FC: Julia's Poetry Portfolio!
1: Table of Contents! Poetry Terms........Pages 2-5 TPCASTT analysis of Birches...Pages 6-13 Original Poetry...................Pages 14-15 | 1 | I love poetry!
2: Poetic Terms | A strong pause within a line of verse. The following stanza from Hardy's "The Man He Killed" contains caesuras in the middle two lines: He thought he'd 'list, perhaps, Off-hand-like--just as I-- Was out of work-had sold his traps-- No other reason why. | CAESURA | 2
3: 3 | DACTYL | A stressed syllable followed by two unstressed ones, as in FLUT-ter-ing or BLUE-ber-ry. The following playful lines illustrate double dactyls, two dactyls per line: Higgledy, piggledy, Emily Dickinson Gibbering, jabbering. | A nineteen-line lyric poem that relies heavily on repetition. The first and third lines alternate throughout the poem, which is structured in six stanzas --five tercets and a concluding quatrain. Example on the following page. | VILLANELLE
4: The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. | I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster. ---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster. | ONE ART bu Elizabeth Bishop | 4
6: TPCASTT Analysis | Birches by Robert Frost | When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust-- | 6
7: Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed So low for long, they never right themselves: You may see their trunks arching in the woods Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. But I was going to say when Truth broke in With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm | (Now am I free to be poetical?) I should prefer to have some boy bend them As he went out and in to fetch the cows-- Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, Whose only play was what he found himself, | Summer or winter, and could play alone. | 7
8: One by one he subdued his father's trees By riding them down over and over again Until he took the stiffness out of them, And not one but hung limp, not one was left For him to conquer. He learned all there was To learn about not launching out too soon And so not carrying the tree away Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise To the top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim. | Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be. It's when I'm weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood | 8
9: Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better. I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree, And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. | 9
10: T: | P: | 10 | The title of this poem, "Birches," makes me think of the woods. Maybe this poem is an artful dexcription of birch trees, or maybe it is describing their behavior. Also, since birches are a home to many animals, he could be talking about all the things that live in a birch tree. | Beginning: he is thinking about birches and what comes to mind when he sees them bending. Then he describes how birches are affected by ice storms. Middle: He is talking about his wish for a boy to be swinging the birches and describing the boy's time swinging them. End: He is talking about how he used to swing the birches and how now he would want to climb a birch tree and go to heaven, but it would just bring him down again.
11: C: | 11 | -Frost uses imagery throughout the poem. An example: "Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel." -"...life is too much like a pathless wood..." He is saying that life is hectic. -In the end, Frost saying that he wants to climb a tree is showing that he wishes he could be a child again and be carefree. -Also in the end, when he is talking about the birches would just bring him back down and half-granting his wish, he is talking about how he would like to be in heaven, but he still likes earth and being alive. -"One could do worse than be a swinger of birches." With this line, Frost is saying that an adult having a carefree time and imagining isn't all that bad, even though it is labled as being foolish and naive. He is stating that even though he could do better, he will continue to wish and dream.
12: A: | S: | His attitude is wishful and calm. | 12 | There is a shift when he stops using mainly imagery and starts to discuss how he used to be a swinger of birches.
13: T: | T: | 13 | How humans affect birches, using birches to represtent something else. | Even though you may want to get away sometimes, the earth is a good place. Also, don't be afraid to dream or act childish sometimes.
14: Original Poetry | 14 | Ode: | I start with the eyes Carefully my pencil moves To make the lashes and pupils Next I draw the nose and eybrows Thin lines on an empty paper Completing the chin is next on my list Followed by hair, ears, neck, and shoulders I attempt to make the body proportional Think of a cool outfit Draw the hands and feet Finally my imaginary character comes alive on paper. | Drawing
15: 15 | Narrative: | Ode to the Raft Sitting still out in the lake Always getting drenched in wake People swimming out to you Know exactly what to do Grabbing at the wooden boards People climbing up in hoards Watching as a child plays Your sturdy structure never sways You are waiting for this heat to end So you can take a break and mend.