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Poetry? - Page Text Content

FC: Poetry? Drew Hollender

1: Table of contents | Page 2 - Poetry, number one Page 3 - Poetry, number two Page 4 - Poetry, number three Page 5 - T.P.C.A.S.T.T.analysis Page 6 - Ode Page7 - Narrative

2: Poetry Term, number one | Accent The prominence or emphasis given to a syllable or word. In the word Poetry, the accent falls on the first syllable.

3: Poetry, number two | Tanka A japenese poem of five lines, the first and third lines have 5 syllables, the rest have seven.

4: Poetry term, number three | Haiku A Japanese poem composed of three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five Syllables. Haiku often reflect on some aspect of nature. As the wind does blow Across the trees, I see the Buds blooming in May

5: 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-coloured 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 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.

6: But I was going to say when Truth broke in With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm, 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. 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.

7: 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.

8: T- The title probably means the beauty of nature.P - The speaker sees bent birch trees, and hopes theyare bent because of childeren playing on them.C - "they clock upon themselves as the breeze rises' this demonstrates the use of Imagery and onomatopoeia. The very last line is a metaphore, he is comparing the birch swingers, with people. Saying that people can do worse than be swingers.A - The author is sad, because he knows it wa the ice storm that bent the branches.S - The shift happens when he admits he was once a swinger of birches.T - The title relates to the birches boys play on.T- The poem means, you should enjoy your childhood, and cherrish it, before it disappears forever

9: Narrative Poen - Rememberance | A jarhead is given a rifle. He uses the rifle. He eats sleeps, and sweats with the rifle. He Carries it for many years. When he goes to the armory to return the rifle, he thinks he is done with it. But no matter what he does with his hands, they will always remember the rifle. All those jarheads, will never forget anything.

10: Ode To Life | Celebrate the goodness you see, the beautiful birds that chirp in the morning, the man who works to help salvation. Forget the murders and muggings you see on the telelvision. The news never bares anything good. All you have to do is try looking, and you will see greatness and and happiness in everybody.

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  • Title: Poetry?
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  • Published: over 9 years ago