FC: Ashley Statz 4A 2012 | Life's Measurable Moments
1: The Name of the Game. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 One's Treasure. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Spring is in the Air. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Dance like Nobody is Watching. . . . . . . . . . 8 Tree Hugger. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Summertime. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Tree. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Sea-Side. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Not Lonely Anymore. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Red Roses. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 The Road Not Taken. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Invictus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .24 I Am. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .26 Love After Love. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .28 Alone. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .30
2: The Name of the Game It’s more than just a sport More like a passion It doesn’t matter whether you're tall or short All the red dirt and bruises are in fashion The wind up The pitch Shift and load up Scrambling defense can’t flinch Intense parents in the stands The swing of the bat Coaches waving their hands Don’t forget to step on the mat This is softball, the game I love Cherish forever, your glove
3: The Name of the Game Sonnet Masculine Rhyme Position Stanza End Rhyme Its currently softball season and all I can think about is the game after school and playing with my team. I love the anticipation until the end of the day and when I step out onto the field it feels like home. I have been playing softball ever since I was little and the game has just grown on me. There are so many little details in the game and it truly is a team sport that I will always hold close to my heart.
4: One's Treasure Paint a delirious treasure at dawn or dusk Your own island What you simply imagine Wake up at dawn Or stay out til dusk What ever you please Your own treasure One shall see Paint your dreams
5: One's Treasure Free Verse Poem Repetition Everyone has their own treasure and can simply do whatever they want with it. You can dream up anything you want or paint your future, because its your life and you decide what happens next. People are free to do what they want and not everyone sees it that way. Sure there are boundaries, but no limitations to what one can do if they set their mind to it.
6: Spring is in the Air Flowers are growing In the bright sunny day They sprout from the April showers And in May they are colorful, blooming flowers. Full of sweet nectar They are a great provider Admire the beauty of each single flower.
7: Spring is in the Air Free Verse Poem Repetition Stanza Spring has just arrived and summer is just around the corner. Flowers are starting to bloom and add color to people's yards. Everyone is just itching to go outside and enjoy the warm weather while admiring the beauty of their flowers. Everyone is watching beautiful butterflies float from flower to flower to get their sweet nectar.
8: Dance like Nobody is Watching... Dance with your heart Be divine Dancing is a work of art Own the stage from the start Never settle for fine Dance with your heart Be ranked upon the chart Get inside their minds Dancing is a work of art Stretch before, be smart Keep yourself align Dance with your heart Point your feet as sharp as a dart Extend your lines Dancing is a work of art You can always restart Don't get tangled like a vine Dance with your heart Dancing is a work of art
9: Don't think: Look! -Ludwig Wittgenstein | Dance like Nobody is Watching Villanelle Masculine Rhyme Stanza Position Simile Dancing has always been my passion. I started when I was just three years old and I have been picking up more classes each year. There are many different styles of dance that help express different moods and portray certain emotions. It is a dedicated sport and takes a lot of practice but that moment up on stage is worth it all.
10: Tree Hugger Hug every tree you see. Tomorrow won't be the same, Green will be no more.
11: Tree Hugger Haiku Poem Masculine Rhyme Position Trees surround us and give us air to breathe but we don't always appreciate all they do. People everywhere are cutting down trees and plowing land to build on top of it, but we are destroying our environment and pretty soon there won't be much left. We need to take care of our planet and start planting more trees and give them the water and sunlight they need to grow.
12: Summertime The grass so green and sun so bright, Tans and tank tops seem alright, Life feels like a dream, There are no worries in sight. Just sit back and relax, Giggle and laugh, Friends and memories, Good times to remember, It will only last one summer. Soon school replaces campfires, And it will all seem to short, So make everyday unforgettable, Spend the Summer non-regrettable.
13: Summertime Free Verse End Rhyme Masculine Rhyme Triple Rhyme Summertime is a time where kids are free of school work and can just relax. Kids dream for it all year long and when it finally gets here, it goes by way too fast. So kids need to savor every moment and make memories that will last forever. Summer only comes once a year and people need to go out and enjoy it, grab their friends and laugh until it hurts. Cook smores around the campfire and soak up the sun, make everyday unforgettable.
14: Tree Swaying in the wind, Leaves rich, green, and healthy. They dance as they fall off, But will bud soon again. Branches reaching outward, Stretching up to the sky, Trees have a cycle, And truly benefit our lives.
15: Tree Free Verse Stanza Personification Trees are wonderful works of art and move with the wind, blowing their leaves throughout the sky. They continue to grow and sprout year after year. New leaves come in full and healthy and stick around until winter comes. Soon after, they bud yet again in spring time, and the cycle of life repeats itself. Every little thing has its own pattern of life and sometimes we take things for granite. We don't think about all the small things that influence our lives and benefit them, like trees.
16: Sea-Side Bottomless and boundless, Lone, outspread waters, Long and dead, A two-fold silence sea and shore. Sudden crashes against rocks, Tidal waves soaring as high as the sky, Currents submerging , Oceans so deep. Boom! The motions repeat.
17: Sea-Side Free Verse Onomatopoeia Simile Alliteration Waves can crash onto the shore, they can boom, and even lap. Oceans are boundless waters and tidal waves just emerge out of no where. The sea is peaceful, and relaxing yet loud and rigorous at times. They just build themselves up and smash downwards back into the bottomless waters they came from.
18: Not Lonely Anymore Hugged and squeezed so tight I couldn't breathe, Getting dragged everywhere, From the sandbox to the car, The life I had always dreamed. I started to go out less and less, And soon enough, hardly ever. Then I was put away into a dark place, With other unwanted toys. One day I got picked up again, And wondered could it be? I had a new face smiling right at me.
19: Not Lonely Anymore Narrative Lyric Poetry Stanza During my childhood, I always dragged around a teddy bear and did everything with him. I took him outside, on playdates, and whenever we left the house. I started to grow up and didn't play with him as much and eventually put him downstairs with other toys to sell. I then remember a few years later seeing a little girl pick him out of the box, and was just immediately drawn to him. She seemed so happy and right then I knew that he would be in good hands.
20: In her garden, Or in her home, We spent days together, And loved and cared for one another. I still remember the strawberry candies, And the regular visits to the Press Box for lunch, After watching the eagles in Sauk. Grandpa always taking pictures, With you wearing red. I miss my grandma. When you love someone, I like I loved her, They’re apart of you. It’s like you’re attached by this invisible tether, And no matter how far away you are, You can always feel them, And now every time I reach for that tether, I know there is no one on the other end, But she has grandpa watching over her, Watching over us. Rest in peace grandma. | Red Roses
21: Red Roses Ode Feminine Rhyme Repetition Metaphor We lost my grandma just last year and it really hit my family hard. We always use to visit her in the nursing home, but when she was diagnosed with alzthimers she hardly remembered who were. It was difficult to just hold a conversation with her and we started to see her less and less. It was hard on her enough because she was devastated when grandpa died and has been lonely ever since. We used to take them out to lunch and plant new flowers in the garden, now these are the last memories I have of her.
22: The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. -Robert Frost
23: The Road Not Taken Repetition Rhymed Verse Masculine Rhyme Stanza The narrator comes upon a fork in the road while walking through the woods and considers both paths and concludes that each one is equally well-traveled and appealing. After choosing one of the roads, the narrator tells himself that he will come back to this fork one day in order to try the other road. However, he realizes that it is unlikely that he will ever have the opportunity to come back to this specific point in time because his choice of path will simply lead to other decisions and ends wondering how things might have been different if he had chosen the other path.
24: Invictus Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. -William Ernest Henley
25: Invictus Rhymed Verse Masculine Rhyme Quatrain The darkness represents evil and the pit is death. The writer thanks the Gods for his unconquerable soul, that whatever bodily adversity he faces, his soul will remain unconquered. So his body may be broken, but the spirit will remain intact. So he is saying that a person is responsible for their self, whatever happens in life.
26: I Am I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am! and live with shadows tost Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life nor joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best-- Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest. I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smil'd or wept; There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept: Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below--above the vaulted sky. -John Clare
27: I Am Metaphor Repetition Position Masculine Rhyme Clare is saying that nobody will know who he is, because they're not him. They haven't lived his life or shared his memories. He's neither being exact about a particular thing, but chasing the meaning of his existence. The poem also functions as an address to the world that he seemingly left behind, a world of former friends and family, colleagues and admirers. Clare is determined to confirm to them his continued existence, in spite of his rather diminished state. He has been left behind and abandoned by those who once knew him as a full and complete person, of sound mind and body to the point where he feels like he must announce his continued presence to the world. As the poem ends, Clare aches for a return to childhood, to a place of untroubled familiarity, as well as the contrary experience of something new and different, that he is dissatisfied with the present.
28: Love After Love The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life. -Derek Walcott
29: Love After Love Repetition Stanza Walcott recognizes that, following a break-up, a love of oneself will not come immediately, but that time will come. He emphasizes the pleasure involved, as he says that it will be with joy that you will greet yourself' at your door or as you look at yourself in the mirror. You consider yourself as a guest that you invite to sit down and eat. Walcott is saying that you will love the stranger in yourself and that you used to love yourself before becoming involved in a relationship. That was so long ago and the person you were then seems like a stranger now. He now portrays that you have to give back your heart to yourself even though you are the one worthy of your love now since you have come to the end of a relationship with another. It then ends with the idea that you are a stranger to yourself after so many years of loving someone else. The poem ends with the idea that you sit down and feast on your life. Instead of looking at photographs and reading love letters that remind you of the break-up of your relationship, you look at your own life and appreciate the person that you are.
30: Alone From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then- in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life- was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view -Edgar Allan Poe
31: Alone Narrative Lyric Poetry Feminine and Masculine Rhyme Position From this I think Poe is saying that ever since he was young, he never fit in and his views were completely different from his peers. That he wasn't like those around him and saw things from another perspective and that the things that made others happy didn't bring joy to him. When he talks about his childhood, he refers to the death of his parents when he was very young. This shows that his depression and loneliness started when he was just a few years old. So from both the good and bad, he was still tortured by abandonment. Even with the things good in his life, he still manages to see the darkness. His views are blocked by all things bad and Poe can't push by it to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
32: Premier Night Theaters are packed, Lines are out the door, Everyone ordering snacks and goodies. Shuffling in the dimmed theater, Choosing seats for the next few hours, Watching previews for upcoming films. Now the time you have been waiting for, Just sit back and relax, And enjoy the show!
33: Noir Late at night, One of us sometimes has said, Watching a movie in black and white, Of the vivid figures quick upon the screen, “Surely by now all of them are dead”— The yapping, wire-haired terrier, of course— And the patient horse Soaked in an illusion of London rain, The Scotland Yard inspector at the scene, The extras—faces in the crowd, the sailors; The bungling blackmailers, The kidnapped girl's parents, reunited again With their one and only joy, lisping in tones antique As that style of pouting Cupid's bow Or those plucked eyebrows, arched to the height of chic. Ignorant of so many things we know, How they seem innocent, and yet they too Possess a knowledge that they cannot give, The grainy screen a kind of sieve That holds some things, but lets some things slip through With the current's rush and swirl. We wonder briefly only about the girl— How old—seven, twelve—it isn't clear— Perhaps she's still alive Watching this somewhere at eighty-five, The only one who knows, though we might guess, What the kidnapper whispers in her ear, Or the color of her dress. -A. E. Stallings
34: in his brown uniform is cruising his panel truck of packages through your neighborhood. I think of a friend's voice on her answering machine— Hi, I’m not here— the morning of her funeral, the calls filling up the tape and the mail still arriving, and I feel as afraid as I was after all those vampire movies when I’d come home and lie awake all night, rigid in my bed, unable to get up even to pee because the undead were waiting underneath it; if I so much as stuck a bare foot out there in the unprotected air they'd grab me by the ankle and pull me under. And my parents said there was nothing there, when I was older I would know better, and now they're dead, and I’m older, and I know better. -Kim Addonizio | Today the cloud shapes are terrifying, and I keep expecting some enormous black-and-white B-movie Cyclops to appear at the edge of the horizon, to come striding over the ocean and drag me from my kitchen to the deep cave that flickered into my young brain one Saturday at the Baronet Theater where I sat helpless between my older brothers, pumped up on candy and horror—that cave, the litter of human bones gnawed on and flung toward the entrance, I can smell their stench as clearly as the bacon fat from breakfast. This is how it feels to lose it— not sanity, I mean, but whatever it is that helps you get up in the morning and actually leave the house on those days when it seems like death | Scary Movies
35: Popcorn Kernel Kernels crowding all around, I'm knee deep in oil, Just waiting for the change. Pop, pop, pop. Hot air blows us round and round, We keep popping one after another. Explosions to the left and to the right, Pretty soon were stacked one bag high. Shortly after butter comes pouring down, And salt sprinkled on top, We start to move and enter a darkened room. Then one by one were quickly grabbed, And all that is left is one big Crunch!
36: Gum Under the Seat So dark and lonely, Looking straight at the floor. All I hear is small chatter, And loud vibrations from the speakers. Snippets of films Is all I see, Other than some fallen popcorn. Someone stuck me here to rot away, Now I'm just the Gum under the seat.
37: The topic of these five poems are at the movies and are told in different perspectives. Having them told in different perspectives and having different techniques really impacts the mood the author is portraying. In the Premier Night poem, it is written in second person and is told from the perspective of you and gives an overview of the setting and what they are doing. In Gum under the seat, as well as Popcorn Kernel, are told in first person, and given from only their point of view, minimizing the thought of others. Lastly, Noir is told in third person and focuses on one person's point of view. The different point of views affect how the reader is told the story and whose eyes they are seeing it through.