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Life, Death, and Time

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S: Life, Deah, & Time

FC: Life, Death, & Time | selected by Renae Perry

1: Life, Death, & Time | selected by Renae Perry | The Sethman Household, November 23rd, 2008

3: I am dedicating this book to everyone who is living, everyone who is dead, and everyone who has time. Also, this book in memory of Sprout Goat Chandler Storm.

4: Table of Contents Emily Dickinson, "If I should die" 6 Emily Dickinson, "The Chariot" 8 Langston Hughes, "Dead In There" 10 E. E. Cummings, "life is more true than reason will decieve 12 Sylvia Plath, "Tulips" 14 E. E. Cummings, "anyone lived in a pretty how town" 18 Edgar Allan Poe, "The Bells" 20 E. E. Cummings, "hate blows a bubble of dispair into" 26 E. E. Cummings, "maggie and millie and molly and may" 28 Emily Dickinson, "It was not death, for I stood up" 30 Renae Perry, "I Am a Fifteen Year Old Senior Citizen" 32 Renae Perry, "Time Management" 34 Works Cited 36 About the Author: Renae Perry 38

6: If I Should Die By Emily Dickinson If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam, And noon should burn, As it has usual done; If birds should build as early, And bees as bustling go,-- One might depart at option From enterprise below! 'Tis sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with daisies lie, That commerce will continue, And trades as briskly fly. It make the parting tranquil And keeps the soul serene, That gentlemen so sprightly Conduct the pleasing scene!

7: This poem does something that most "death" poems does not. It shows that Dickinson definitely saw the greater scheme of things. It is important for us, as humans, to realize our significance and that, when we die, or when something goes wrong, everything keeps going. It also makes the importance of our own personal problems seem a lot less significant. The examples she used for the contiunation of life were really beautiful, and gave the reader a large amount of imagery.

8: The Chariot By Emily Dickinson Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then't is centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.

9: I really liked this poem's idea because it uses personification to make "death" into a person. It really humanizes the process of death and makes it seem much less scary. The poem is also amazing because it puts eternity in perspective. It says, "but each day feels shorter than the day I furst surmised the horses' heads were toward eternity." I can relate to the first line because I am a very busy person who can rarely stop for anything, including things that I must do. However, I have never had to stop for my own death, but I have for other people's deaths.

10: Dead in There By Langston Hughes Sometimes A night funeral Going by Carries home A cool bop daddy. It’s hard to believe, But dead in there, He’ll never lay a Hype nowhere! He’s my ace-boy Gone away. Wake up and live! Plant him now Out where it makes No diff’ no how.

11: In this poem, Hughes seems very detached from the death that he is facing or has faced. I can relate to this, because in my life I have faced ten deaths of family members and close family friends in my life time. Most fifteen year olds can't say that, and are lucky. However, people tend to die in my life, and because of that I am also rather detached from death. I also like the way the author uses words appropriate to his culture.

12: By E. E. Cummings life is more true than reason will deceive (more secret or than madness did reveal) deeper is life than lose:higher than have but beauty is more each than living’s all multiplied with infinity sans if the mightiest meditations of mankind cancelled are by one merely opening leaf (beyond whose nearness there is no beyond) or does some littler bird than eyes can learn look up to silence and completely sing? futures are obsolete;pasts are unborn (here less than nothing’s more than everything) death,as men call him,ends what they call men but beauty is more now than dying’s when

13: This poem is a toughy. I often wonder why it is written in Shakespearean Sonet form. The last stanza troubles me very often, and I read this poem on a regular basis. My interpretation of "death,as men call him,ends what they call men but beauty is more now than dying's when" is that we must appriciate the beauty that is before us now before it dies. However, I am not sure, as Cummings is a very confusing poet.

14: Tulips by Sylvia Plath The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions. I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons. They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut. Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in. The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble, They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps, Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another, So it is impossible to tell how many there are. My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently. They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep. Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage ---- My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox, My husband and child smiling out of the family photo; Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

15: I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address. They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations. Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head. I am a nun now, I have never been so pure. I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free ---- The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet. The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me. Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby. Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds. They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down, Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour, A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck. Nobody watched me before, now I am watched. The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,

16: And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips, And I hve no face, I have wanted to efface myself. The vivid tulips eat my oxygen. Before they came the air was calm enough, Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss. Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise. Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine. They concentrate my attention, that was happy Playing and resting without committing itself. The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves. The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals; They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat, And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me. The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea, And comes from a country far away as health.

17: I can really relate to this poem on many levels, I have had people in my life who have suffered from mental health issues similart to those of Plath's. Also, I have personally felt the similar feeling of helplessness that she did in this poem, after having had surgeries myself. It is typical for we, as humans, to feel insignificant when we are in vulnerable positions, and I think this poem really shows that. Also, it is easy to feel as though we aren't doing anything when there are such beautiful things like tulips out there.

18: anyone lived in a pretty how town by E. E. Cummings anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down) spring summer autumn winter he sang his didn't he danced his did Women and men(both little and small) cared for anyone not at all they sowed their isn't they reaped their same sun moon stars rain children guessed(but only a few and down they forgot as up they grew autumn winter spring summer) that noone loved him more by more when by now and tree by leaf she laughed his joy she cried his grief bird by snow and stir by still anyone's any was all to her someones married their everyones laughed their cryings and did their dance (sleep wake hope and then)they said their nevers they slept their dream stars rain sun moon (and only the snow can begin to explain how children are apt to forget to remember with up so floating many bells down) | one day anyone died i guess (and noone stooped to kiss his face) busy folk buried them side by side little by little and was by was all by all and deep by deep and more by more they dream their sleep noone and anyone earth by april wish by spirit and if by yes. Women and men(both dong and ding) summer autumn winter spring reaped their sowing and went their came sun moon stars rain

19: Not only is this poem one of my favorite poems that rhymes and tells a story, it also gives an accurate discription of human nature. It shows how we live and die over time, and our significance or lack thereof in nature. I really like the uses of "anyone" and "noone" as characters, because they give mystery to the true meaning of the poem. Also, the line "and only the snow can begin to explain how children are apt to forget to remember" is very true in a sense that as we grow up, we forget about the simple things that once made us happy. The use of the transitions of the seasons and the days in different order gives us the idea that time goes so fast, and yet anyone and noone still loved each other (more by more). This is one of my favorite poems, and I feel that it shows about life and humanity and our exsistance and lack of significance through time, the year, the seasons, and through suns, moons, stars, and rain.

20: The Bells by Edgar Allan Poe i. Hear the sledges with the bells- Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells- From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. II. Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! From the molten-golden notes, And an in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells,bells, Bells, bells, bells- To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! .

21: To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells,bells, Bells, bells, bells- To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! III. Hear the loud alarum bells- Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor, Now- now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon.

22: Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows: Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells- Of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells,bells, Bells, bells, bells- In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! IV. Hear the tolling of the bells- Iron Bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone!

23: For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people- ah, the people- They that dwell up in the steeple, All Alone And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone- They are neither man nor woman- They are neither brute nor human- They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the paean of the bells! And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells- Of the bells: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells- To the sobbing of the bells; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells: To the tolling of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells- Bells, bells, bells- To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. | In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells: To the tolling of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells- Bells, bells, bells- To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

25: This poem, in my opinion expresses life in terms of different types of bells. During life, we hear the innocence of silver bells that excite us when we're young. We feel the joy of hearing wedding bells, and falling in love. We feel the devastation brought on by Alarum bells. And finally, when we hear the solemn sounds of iron bells, it reminds us of death. Poe expertly shows the evolution and devolution of life using the varieties in bells to symbolize the varities in the events of our lives.

26: hate blows a bubble of despair into by E. E. Cummings hate blows a bubble of despair into hugeness world system universe and bang -fear buries a tomorrow under woe and up comes yesterday most green and young pleasure and pain are merely surfaces (one itself showing,itself hiding one) life's only and true value neither is love makes the little thickness of the coin comes here a man would have from madame death neverless now and without winter spring? she'll spin that spirit her own fingers with and give him nothing(if he should not sing) how much more than enough for both of us darling. And if i sing you are my voice,

27: I love this poem, because it really just explains the way the world works in a way that makes sense. Hate does cause dispair throughout the world. Likewise, pleasure and pain are both "surface" feelings that have no true depth in our lives. I am confused by the meaning of the third stanza, however, and that has annoyed me for quite some time. The last stanza, however, the two-liner, is really touching. Every time I read it it makes me smile.

28: maggie and milly and molly and may by E. E. Cummings maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and moly was chased by a horrible thing which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone. For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea

29: I believe this ooem is talking about self-discovery. Maggie finds that she has to lose herself in music in order to forget her troubles. Milly finds that in order to truly find yourself, you need to like yourself and become friends with yourself. Molly represents the fears that we have to face during life, and May represents the loneliness we feel throughout our lives. I think this is a great poem that helps us better understand human nature, as Cummings always does.

30: It was not death, for I stood up By Emily Dickinson It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down. It was not night, for all the bells Put out their tongues for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh I felt siroccos crawl, Nor fire, for just my marble feet Could keep a chancel cool. And yet it tasted like them all, The figures I have seen Set orderly for burial Reminded me of mine, As if my life were shaven And fitted to a frame And could not breathe without a key, And 'twas like midnight, some, | When everything that ticked has stopped And space stares all around, Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, Repeal the beating ground; But most like chaos, stopless, cool, Without a chance, or spar, Or even a report of land To justify despair.

31: In this poem, I believe that Dickinson is talking about how she felt at the death of one of her relatives. I can relate to this, because in my lifetime, a lot of my relatives have died. She feels as though part of her has died with this person. I really like the word choice, because it gives a really chilling effect to a poem that is already very cold-feeling. I also learned that "siroccos" are warm winds tha come from Northwestern Africa.

32: I Am a Fifteen Year Old Senior Citizen By Renae Perry I. Great-Grandmother Dovey Grandmother Carol Rae Great-Grandfather Harold I am too young to remember A Bassist Named Dave Grandfather Eddie Great-Grandmother Pansy Mom’s Best Friend the flutist Pain? A lot of black clothes purchased That do not fit my Formerly ill-proportioned Torso. 2nd Cousin John Resident-Grandfather Leon Great-Aunt Ruth Limousines are now ominous Whereas they used to Get me excited for someone Might be important! What’s that called again? Doyle Families shouldn’t fight Over money earned From death. My homosexual step-uncle Bret whose mother was widowed by Doyle Insensitivity finally overcomes. I officially feel nothing at all | What’s that called again? Doyle Families shouldn’t fight Over money earned From death. My homosexual step-uncle Bret whose mother was widowed by Doyle Insensitivity finally overcomes. I officially feel nothing at all II. I am a fifteen year old senior Citizen That is numb to What most people find Devastating Who’s next? has become Curiosity Not dread. {besides the immediate of course} (Cried for only one. Which is odd, because I’m a crier. Take a gander?) I loved them all I miss them all.

33: My music from them My sense of humor from them My “how not to act when you remarry” Life lesson from them But stuff happens… and Life goes on. Well, mine does. They weren’t so lucky. That’s the only catch That makes this one not the same, Yet it seems to make all The difference in the world for some I hope I’m not next However, If I have learned anything, It’s that senior citizens tend to Have a high mortality rate. I should move to Florida. (Eddie)

34: "Time Management by Renae Perry "Time Management" says the Cheif of overacheivers does one manage something so precious? something so important to savor? One does not "manage" love, or laughter, or air.

36: Dickinson, Emily. "If I should die." The Poems of Emily Dickinson. Ed. R. W. Franklin. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1999. 31 Dickinson, Emily. "The Chariot." The Poems of Emily Dickinson. Ed. R. W. Franklin. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1999. 219. Hughes, Langston. "Dead In There." The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes. Ed. Arnold Rampersad. New York, NY: Knopf Group, 1995. 89. Cummings, E. E. "Life is more true than reason will decieve." Selected Poems. Ed. Richard S. Kennedy. New York, NY: Liveright, 1994. 181. Plath, Sylvia. "Tulips." Ariel: The Restored Edition. New York, NY: Harper Collins, 2004. 20. Cummings, E. E. "anyone lived in a pretty how town." Selected Poems. Ed. Richard S. Kennedy. New York, NY: Liveright, 1994. 109.. Poe, Edgar A. "The Bells." Works of Edgar Allan Poe. New York, NY: Gramery Books, 1985. 710-13. .

37: Cummings, E. E. "hate blows a bubble of despar into." Selected Poems. Ed. Richard S. Kennedy. New York, NY: Liveright, 1994. 70. Cummings, E. E. "maggie and millie and mollly and may" Selected Poems. Ed. Richard S. Kennedy. New York, NY: Liveright, 1994. 6. Dickinson, Emily. "It was not death." The Poems of Emily Dickinson. Ed. R. W. Franklin. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1999. 408.

38: Renae Perry likes to think that she lives life to the fullest. That is, the fullest a teenager can live. She enjoys singing in her church choir, playing the double bass, being a member of a large number of clubs in school, and hanging out with her friends in AP World History. Her poetry accomplishments thus far include a two-time win of the blue ribbon award for the Stillwater Public School's PTA Reflection competition, where she wrote two brilliant poems entitled "The Last Call" and "November" in the third and fourth grades.

39: This is Renae's Favorite Place: Ross-On-Wye, England.

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