Poetry+Grade+12+Level+4

= Poetry Grade 12 Level 4 =

[]

I learned early on with [Dylan] that the people he hung around with were not musicians. They were poets, like Allen Ginsberg. When we were in Europe, there’d be poets coming out of the woodwork. His writing came directly out of a tremendous poetic influence, a license to write in images that weren’t in the Tin Pan Alley tradition or typically rock & roll, either.

— Robbie Robertson

DAY ONE
Before you read this poem or start this unit, I want to explore with you what your experience with poetry has been. Tell us about how you have studied poetry before, what poems you remember, what you did with those poems and whether or not you liked them. Tell us anything else that seems relevant about your study of poetry. 200 words minimum media type="custom" key="10511746" media type="custom" key="10511750"

Homework: Get a notebook for English class. Read and do a dialogue journal on Lose Yourself.

DAY TWO
Before you read these song lyrics by Eminem, read this:


 * How To Read a Poem (Three Things)**

1. Read the poem all the way through without stopping. 2. Read the poem again with your __Dialogue Journal__ opened, and write questions you have about the poem. The questions could be about individual words. Or, the questions could be about ideas or images or allusions in the poem. The questions could be about who the speaker is, about the tone or about the person to whom the speaker is talking. I call this //the interrogation.// 3. Read the poem AT LEAST one more time, so you can //investigate// the answers to the questions you have and draw some conclusions. You may want to use google or the dictionary or wikipedia to research some concepts in the poem that you do not understand. Do __not__ use wikipedia to research the poem itself. That is cheating.

I can’t imagine that anyone could construct an interpretation of a poem without reading it AT LEAST three times.



Lose Yourself
Eminem media type="file" key="Eminem - Lose Yourself (8 Mile) - Clean.mp3" width="240" height="20"

Look.. if you had.. one shot,or one opportunity To seize everything you ever wanted.. in one moment Would you capture it.. or just let it slip? Yo.. [Verse 1] His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs, but he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud He opens his mouth but the words won't come out He's chokin, how? Everybody's jokin now The clock's run out, time's up, over - BLAOW! Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity Oh there goes Rabbit, he choked He's so mad, but he won't Give up that easy no, he won't have it  He knows, his whole back's to these ropes It don't matter, he's dope He knows that, but he's broke He's so sad that he knows when he goes back to this mobile home, that's when it's back to the lab again, yo, this whole rapshody He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him

[Chorus] You Better, lose yourself in the music, the moment You own it, you better never let it go (go) You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime You better, lose yourself in the music, the moment You own it, you better never let it go (go) You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime You Better..

[Verse 2] Soul's escaping, through this hole that is gaping This world is mine for the taking Make me king, as we move toward a, new world order A normal life is boring; but superstardom's close to post-mortem, it only grows harder Homie grows hotter, he blows it's all over These hoes is all on him, coast to coast shows He's known as the Globetrotter Lonely roads, God only knows He's grown farther from home, he's no father He goes home and barely knows his own daughter But hold your nose cause here goes the cold water These hoes don't want him no mo', he's cold product They moved on to the next schmoe who flows He nose-dove and sold nada, and so the soap opera is told, it unfolds, I suppose it's old partner But the beat goes on da-da-dum da-dum da-dah

[Chorus]

[Verse 3] No more games, I'ma change what you call rage Tear this motherfuckin roof off like two dogs caged I was playin in the beginning, the mood all changed I've been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage But I kept rhymin and stepped right in the next cypher Best believe somebody's payin the pied piper All the pain inside amplified by the fact that I can't get by with my nine to five and I can't provide the right type of  life for my family, cause man, these God damn food stamps don't buy diapers, and it's no movie There's no Mekhi Phifer, this is my life And these times are so hard, and it's gettin even harder Tryin to feed and water my seed plus, see dishonour Caught up between bein a father and a primadonna Baby momma drama screamin on her too much for me to wanna stay in one spot, another day of monotony, has gotten me to the point, I'm like a snail I've got to formulate a plot, or end up in jail or shot Success is my only motherfuckin option, failure's not Mom I love you but this trailer's got to go I cannot grow old in Salem's Lot So here I go it's my shot, feet fail me not This may be the only opportunity that I got

[Chorus]

[Outro] You can do anything if you set your mind to it, man.

Questions for your blog: 1. Who is the speaker? (Identify his personality) 2. What is happening in the song? (In general) 3. What is the tone of the song? Give examples. 4. Choose three images or allusions, define them and explain how Eminem uses them in the song. 5. What is this song about? Why do you think so?

Homework: Read "One" by Bono.



** DAY THREE **
Read "One" and write questions in your dialogue journal.



One
Bono

Is it getting better Or do you feel the same Will it make it easier on you now You got someone to blame You say...

One love One life When it's one need In the night One love We get to share it Leaves you baby if you Don't care for it

Did I disappoint you Or leave a bad taste in your mouth You act like you never had love And you want me to go without Well it's...

Too late Tonight To drag the past out into the light We're one, but we're not the same We get to Carry each other Carry each other One... Have you come here for forgiveness Have you come to raise the dead Have you come here to play Jesus To the lepers in your head

Did I ask too much More than a lot You gave me nothing Now it's all I got We're one But we're not the same Well we Hurt each other Then we do it again You say Love is a temple Love a higher law Love is a temple Love the higher law You ask me to enter But then you make me crawl And I can't be holding on To what you got When all you got is hurt One love One blood One life You got to do what you should One life With each other Sisters Brothers One life But we're not the same We get to Carry each other Carry each other

One...life

One

Homework: Read "Masters of War" and write questions in your dialogue journal.

DAY FOUR
Read "Masters of War" and blog about what it means.

Masters of War
Bob Dylan

Come you masters of war You that build all the guns You that build the death planes You that build all the bombs You that hide behind walls You that hide behind desks I just want you to know I can see through your masks.

You that never done nothin' But build to destroy You play with my world Like it's your little toy You put a gun in my hand And you hide from my eyes And you turn and run farther When the fast bullets fly.

Like Judas of old You lie and deceive A world war can be won You want me to believe But I see through your eyes And I see through your brain Like I see through the water That runs down my drain.

You fasten all the triggers For the others to fire Then you set back and watch When the death count gets higher You hide in your mansion' As young people's blood Flows out of their bodies And is buried in the mud.

You've thrown the worst fear That can ever be hurled Fear to bring children Into the world For threatening my baby Unborn and unnamed You ain't worth the blood That runs in your veins.

How much do I know To talk out of turn You might say that I'm young You might say I'm unlearned But there's one thing I know Though I'm younger than you That even Jesus would never Forgive what you do.

Let me ask you one question Is your money that good Will it buy you forgiveness Do you think that it could I think you will find When your death takes its toll All the money you made Will never buy back your soul.

And I hope that you die And your death'll come soon I will follow your casket In the pale afternoon And I'll watch while you're lowered Down to your deathbed And I'll stand over your grave 'Til I'm sure that you're dead. For an advanced rant, read [|Howl]by [|Allen Ginsberg] media type="youtube" key="1vvzyPMa82I?fs=1" height="385" width="480"

Homework: Read "Walk On" and write questions in your dialogue journal.

** DAY FIVE **

 * Listen to this song by U2 and write an interpretation of in in your blog. **
 * 1. Who is speaking? **
 * 2. Who is that person speaking to? **
 * 3. What is the speaker saying to the other person? **

media type="youtube" key="TrLfVpu0esA" height="315" width="420" And love is not the easy thing

The only baggage you can bring...

And love is not the easy thing...

The only baggage you can bring

Is all that you can't leave behind

And if the darkness is to keep us apart

And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off

And if your glass heart should crack

And for a second you turn back

Oh no, be strong

Walk on, walk on

What you got they can’t steal it

No they can’t even feel it

Walk on, walk on...

Stay safe tonight

You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been

A place that has to be believed to be seen

You could have flown away

A singing bird in an open cage

Who will only fly, only fly for freedom

Walk on, walk on

What you've got they can't deny it

Can’t sell it, can’t buy it

Walk on, walk on

Stay safe tonight

And I know it aches

And your heart it breaks

And you can only take so much

Walk on, walk on

Home... hard to know what it is if you’ve never had one

Home... I can’t say where it is but I know I'm going home

That's where the hurt is

I know it aches

How your heart it breaks

And you can only take so much

Walk on, walk on

Leave it behind

You've got to leave it behind

All that you fashion

All that you make

All that you build

All that you break

All that you measure

All that you steal

All this you can leave behind

All that you reason

All that you sense

All that you speak

All you dress up

All that you scheme...

media type="youtube" key="e5F4-250ScQ" height="315" width="420" Maybe this is forever Forever fades away Like a rocket ascending into space Could you not be sad? Could you not break down? After all, I won't let go 'Till you're safe and sound 'Till you're safe and sound There's beauty in release There's no one left to please but you and me
 * DAY SIX **
 * Listen to this song by Sheryl Crow and write an interpretation of in in your blog. **
 * 1. Who is speaking? (Are there multiple voices?) **
 * 2. Who is that person speaking to? (Are they talking to each other?) **
 * 3. What is the speaker saying to the other person? **
 * 4. Use at least three examples from the lyrics to prove your point. (Quote the lyrics.) **

I don't blame you for quitting I know you really tried If only you could hang on through the night Cause I don't want to be lonely I don't want to be scared And all our friends are waiting there Until you're safe and sound Until you're safe and sound There's beauty in release There's no one left to please but you and me

Until you're safe and sound...

Feel like I could've held on Feel like I could've let go Feel like I could've helped you Feel like I could've changed you Feel like I could've held on Feel like I could've hurt you Feel like I was a stranger Feel like I was an angel Feel like I was a hero Feel like I was a zero Feel like I could've touched you Feel like I could've sealed you Feel like I could've held you Feel like I could've moved you Feel like I should've healed you Feel like I could've told you Feel like I should've told you Feel like I could've loved you Feel like I could've loved you Feel like I really loved you Feel like I really loved you... Feel like I could've saved you...


 * DAY SEVEN **
 * Listen to THE WEARY KIND **
 * by [|Ryan Bingham] and [|T-Bone Burnett]**


 * THEN--Do a dialogue journal on the song.**

media type="youtube" key="zelvaxvTaUk" height="315" width="420" Your heart's on the loose You rolled them seven's with nothing to lose This ain't no place for the weary kind
 * Then--**** write an interpretation of the song in your blog. **
 * Let these questions guide you: **
 * 1. Who is speaking? **
 * 2. Who is that person speaking to? **
 * 3. What is the speaker saying to the other person? **
 * 4. Use at least three examples from the lyrics to prove your point. (Quote the lyrics.) **
 * 5. Analyze at least one metaphor from the song within your answer. **

You called all your shots Shooting 8 ball at the corner truck stop Somehow this don't feel like home anymore

And this ain't no place for the weary kind This ain't no place to lose your mind This ain't no place to fall behind Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try

Your body aches Playing your guitar and sweating out the hate The days and the nights all feel the same

Whiskey has been a thorn in your side It doesn't forget The highway that calls for your heart inside

And this ain't no place for the weary kind This ain't no place to lose your mind This ain't no place to fall behind Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try

Your lover's warm kiss Is too damn far from your fingertips You are the man that ruined her world

Your heart's on the loose You rolled them seven's with nothing to lose And this ain't no place for the weary kind


 * DAY EIGHT (10/17) **

media type="file" key="Philip Shultz (short podcast).mp3" width="240" height="20"

media type="youtube" key="KXX7V9Ajw-w" height="315" width="560" =The god of loneliness=

by [|Philip Schultz] May 5, 2008
It’s a cold Sunday February morning and I’m one of eight men waiting for the doors of Toys R Us to open in a mall on the eastern tip of Long Island. We’ve come for the Japanese electronic game that’s so hard to find. Last week, I waited three hours for a store in Manhattan to disappoint me. The first today, bundled in six layers, I stood shivering in the dawn light reading the new Aeneid translation, which I hid when the others came, stamping boots and rubbing gloveless hands, joking about sacrificing sleep for ungrateful sons. “My boy broke two front teeth playing hockey,” a man wearing shorts laughs. “This is his reward.” My sons will leap into my arms, remember this morning all their lives. “The game is for my oldest boy, just back from Iraq,” a man in overalls says from the back of the line. “He plays these games in his room all day. I’m not worried, he’ll snap out of it, he’s earned his rest.” These men fix leaks, lay foundations for other men’s dreams without complaint. They’ve been waiting in the cold since Aeneas founded Rome on rivers of blood. Virgil understood that death begins and never ends, that it’s the god of loneliness. Through the window, a clerk shouts, “We’ve only five.” The others seem not to know what to do with their hands, tuck them under their arms, or let them hang, naked and useless. Is it because our hands remember what they held, the promises they made? I know exactly when my boys will be old enough for war. Soon three of us will wait across the street at Target, because it’s what men do for their sons.

Read more [|http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2008/05/05/080505po_poem_schultz#ixzz1a7O46Nr0]

DAY NINE (10/19)
Read this poem and then do a DJ on it.



**A Study of Reading Habits** Philip Larkin

When getting my nose in a book Cured most things short of school, It was worth ruining my eyes To know I could still keep cool, And deal out the old right hook To dirty dogs twice my size.

Later, with inch-thick specs, Evil was just my lark: Me and my cloak and fangs Had ripping times in the dark. The women I clubbed with sex! I broke them up like meringues.

Don't read much now: the dude Who lets the girl down before The hero arrives, the chap Who's yellow and keeps the store, Seems far too familiar. Get stewed: Books are a load of crap. Homework: Read all your blogs and choose one to transform into a longer, more developed essay.

EXTRA POEMS FOR YOU:
media type="youtube" key="uqmBdI74huw" height="315" width="420"



**The Second Coming**

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?



**Ode on a Grecian Urn** by John Keats

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? what maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal--yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? What little town by river or sea shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty'--that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.



**In the Waiting Room** by Elizabeth Bishop

In Worcester, Massachusetts, I went with Aunt Consuelo to keep her dentist's appointment and sat and waited for her in the dentist's waiting room. It was winter. It got dark early. The waiting room was full of grown-up people, arctics and overcoats, lamps and magazines. My aunt was inside what seemed like a long time and while I waited I read the National Geographic (I could read) and carefully studied the photographs: the inside of a volcano, black, and full of ashes; then it was spilling over in rivulets of fire. Osa and Martin Johnson dressed in riding breeches, laced boots, and pith helmets. A dead man slung on a pole --"Long Pig," the caption said. Babies with pointed heads wound round and round with string; black, naked women with necks wound round and round with wire like the necks of light bulbs. Their breasts were horrifying. I read it right straight through. I was too shy to stop. And then I looked at the cover: the yellow margins, the date. Suddenly, from inside, came an oh! of pain --Aunt Consuelo's voice-- not very loud or long. I wasn't at all surprised; even then I knew she was a foolish, timid woman. I might have been embarrassed, but wasn't. What took me completely by surprise was that it was me: my voice, in my mouth. Without thinking at all I was my foolish aunt, I--we--were falling, falling, our eyes glued to the cover of the National Geographic, February, 1918.

I said to myself: three days and you'll be seven years old. I was saying it to stop the sensation of falling off the round, turning world. into cold, blue-black space. But I felt: you are an I, you are an Elizabeth, you are one of them. Why should you be one, too? I scarcely dared to look to see what it was I was. I gave a sidelong glance --I couldn't look any higher-- at shadowy gray knees, trousers and skirts and boots and different pairs of hands lying under the lamps. I knew that nothing stranger had ever happened, that nothing stranger could ever happen.

Why should I be my aunt, or me, or anyone? What similarities-- boots, hands, the family voice I felt in my throat, or even the National Geographic and those awful hanging breasts-- held us all together or made us all just one? How--I didn't know any word for it--how "unlikely". . . How had I come to be here, like them, and overhear a cry of pain that could have got loud and worse but hadn't?

The waiting room was bright and too hot. It was sliding beneath a big black wave, another, and another.

Then I was back in it. The War was on. Outside, in Worcester, Massachusetts, were night and slush and cold, and it was still the fifth of February, 1918.



** The Lamb ** By William Blake

Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight; Softest clothing, wooly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee, Little Lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb. He is meek, and he is mild; He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee! Little Lamb, God bless thee!

** The Tyger ** by William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?



Dylan Thomas
 * Do not go gentle into that good night **

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Homework: Read [|http://www.uvm.edu/~sgutman/You_Can_Read_A_Poem.html]

media type="youtube" key="RxsOVK4syxU?fs=1" height="385" width="480" **If things don't work out, you can always go to law schoo**l
 * What Teachers Make, or **
 * Objection Overruled, or **

By Taylor Mali [|www.taylormali.com] He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?" He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about teachers: Those who can, do; those who can't, teach. I decide to bite my tongue instead of his and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests that it's also true what they say about lawyers. Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company. "I mean, you¹re a teacher, Taylor," he says. "Be honest. What do you make?" And I wish he hadn't done that (asked me to be honest) because, you see, I have a policy about honesty and ass-kicking: if you ask for it, I have to let you have it. You want to know what I make? I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could. I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor and an A- feel like a slap in the face. How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best. I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups. No, you may not ask a question. Why won't I let you get a drink of water? Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why. I make parents tremble in fear when I call home: I hope I haven't called at a bad time, I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today. Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?" And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen. I make parents see their children for who they are and what they can be. You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder, I make them question. I make them criticize. I make them apologize and mean it. I make them write, write, write. And then I make them read. I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful over and over and over again until they will never misspell either one of those words again. I make them show all their work in math. And hide it on their final drafts in English. I make them understand that if you got this (brains) then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make, you give them this (the finger). Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true: I make a goddamn difference! What about you?

EXTRA CREDIT Now that you have watched the video and read the poem, ** write your own poem ** that you will read/perform for the class like Mali does. Here are ten suggestions --if you need them: 1. Decide who your speaker is ahead of time, and give her voice. 2. Copy the form and style of a poet you admire. 3. Write about what you know. 4. Write about something simple, like an object. 5. It does not have to rhyme. 6. It does not have to have a secret hidden meaning. 7. It does not have to be about love. 8. Decide who your speaker is talking to ahead of time. 9. Use metaphors. 10. Make a interesting title. 11. Read it aloud to yourself then revise it. Then, read it aloud to yourself then revise it. Do this as many times as you need to until you are happy with it.


 * Homework: Rewrite your poem, and practice performing it.**

EXTRA CREDIT media type="file" key="Howl.mp4" width="300" height="300"

**Write about what this poem means to you. 200 words.**

Before I workout, I do a warm-up. I stretch, so I don't hurt myself. I don't want you to hurt yourself either, so I have placed this link to a series of stretches and warm-ups. [|Stretches & Warm-ups]

[[image:rimbaud.jpg width="107" height="147" link="http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/1268"]]
**A Season in Hell** by Arthur Rimbaud Translated by Bertrand Mathieu

A while back, if I remember right, my life was one long party where all hearts were open wide, where all wines kept flowing.

One night, I sat Beauty down on my lap.—And I found her galling.—And I roughed her up.

I armed myself against justice.

I ran away. O witches, O misery, O hatred, my treasure's been turned over to you!

I managed to make every trace of human hope vanish from my mind. I pounced on every joy like a ferocious animal eager to strangle it.

I called for executioners so that, while dying, I could bite the butts of their rifles. I called for plagues to choke me with sand, with blood. Bad luck was my god. I stretched out in the muck. I dried myself in the air of crime. And I played tricks on insanity.

And Spring brought me the frightening laugh of the idiot.

So, just recently, when I found myself on the brink of the final squawk! it dawned on me to look again for the key to that ancient party where I might find my appetite once more.

Charity is that key.—This inspiration proves I was dreaming!

"You'll always be a hyena etc. . . ," yells the devil, who'd crowned me with such pretty poppies. "Deserve death with all your appetites, your selfishness, and all the capital sins!"

Ah! I've been through too much:-But, sweet Satan, I beg of you, a less blazing eye! and while waiting for the new little cowardly gestures yet to come, since you like an absence of descriptive or didactic skills in a writer, let me rip out these few ghastly pages from my notebook of the damned.

==

=ESSAY ON A POEM= It will be 400-500 words long. That’s 4-5 paragraphs.

This approach will require you to **read the poem** and then **interpret it** by **closely examining “the text of the poem.”** You will look at what the title means, what the words mean, investigate why they are arranged as they are, how the different parts of the poem relate to the whole poem and how figures of speech* affect the meaning of the poem.

*figures of speech are metaphors, similes, symbolism, personification, imagery, etc.

You will NOT be discussing feelings, thoughts and experiences from your life. You will only be discussing the poem. You will also NOT be discussing the poet’s life, only the poem. You do NOT need to, nor should you do any research on the poem you choose.

PARAGRAPH ONE: (Introduction) State what the poem means. Here is an example. //The poem, [|“The Road Not Taken”] by Robert Frost is about a person who is making a decision.// Then, explain what your reasons are for thinking that the poem means what you say it means. Here is an example. //The reason the poem is about a decision is because Frost is writing about a person who is standing at a fork in the road. The road is a symbol of for this person’s journey in life. If the person goes down one road, his life will be different than if he goes down the other.//

PARAGRAPH TWO: Explain your first reason for thinking that the poem means what you say it means. Here is an example. //In the first stanza the speaker in the poem says, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” In this quotation, the word “diverged” means split and “the roads” are symbols for options in life. This means the speaker is standing at a fork in the road. He has to decide which way to go.// Notice how I quoted the poem. You should do this too.

PARAGRAPH THREE: Explain your second reason for thinking that the poem means what you say it means. Here is an example. //The poem’s speaker describes how he or she looks down both roads, but can’t decide what to do. He or she says, “Though as for the passing there/Had worn them really about the same,” which means he is having a hard time making up his mind. Both roads are good options.//

PARAGRAPH FOUR: Explain your third reason for thinking that the poem means what you say it means. Here is another example. //The speaker finally makes a decision in the third stanza when he says, “I kept the first for another day.” This shows that he chose the second road. And he knows that he probably won’t get to go down the first road or path in life if he takes the second. You can see this when he says, “Yet knowing how way leads onto way,/I doubted if I should ever come back.”//

PARAGRAPH FIVE: (Conclusion) Restate what the poem means. Here is an example. //The poem, “The Road Not Taken” presents a picture a moment when this speaker is having a hard time deciding which way to go in life, because he is confronted by two options that seem equal.// Then, make a concluding statement about the meaning of the poem. Here is an example. //The speaker then makes a decision and predicts that it will make “all the difference.” He knows that this decision with affect the rest of his life.//

FORMAT REQUIRMENTS: •Your rough blog needs to have a title that is not the title of the poem. •Your rough blog should have 400-500 words. •Your rough blog should have a thesis statement. •You should indent paragraphs. •Your blog draft should have at least three reasons to support your thesis.

Your blog draft will be graded on the following areas: 1. Idea/topic development-Thesis statement 2. Organization-paragraph structure 3. Details/examples/quotations 4. Language and style-vocabulary and sentence structure 5. Grammar 6. Spelling, capitalization, punctuation and formatting. **DO __NOT__ USE THE INTERNET TO LOOK UP WHAT A POEM MEANS** **FOR THIS ESSAY. This is not a research paper.**

View this Powerpoint:[[file:writing process.ppt]]
[|concept map.pdf]

[|Writing a thesis about a poem w3 copy.doc]

**Writing The Introduction**
[|http://www.esc.edu/esconline/across_esc/writerscomplex.nsf/3cc42a422514347a8525671d0049f395/b92d6149cc49534e852569c30069f8b2?OpenDocument#introductions]

•Students will conference w/ the teacher on their theses. •Students will freewrite. •Teacher will instruct students on how to write an introduction. •Students will begin their introductions. Homework: Students will finish their introductions.

=DESE FRAMEWORKS ADDRESSED= GENERAL STANDARD 3:ORAL PRESENTATION 3.17 Deliver formal presentations for particular audiences using clear enunciation and appropriate organization, gestures, tone, and vocabulary. 3.18 Create an appropriate scoring guide to evaluate final presentations.

GENERAL STANDARD 14: Poetry Students will identify, analyze, and apply knowledge of the themes, structure, and elements of poetry and provide evidence from the text to support their understanding.

14.6 Analyze and evaluate the appropriateness of diction and imagery (controlling images, figurative language, understatement, overstatement, irony, paradox). For example, students examine poems to explore the relationship between the literal and the figurative in Mark Strand’s “Keeping Things Whole,” Elinor Wylie’s “Sea Lullaby,” Louis MacNeice’s “Prayer Before Birth,” Margaret Walker’s “Lineage,” A.E. Housman’s “To an Athlete Dying Young,” W.H. Auden’s “Unknown Citizen,” Emily Dickinson’s “I Taste a Liquor Never Brewed,” and Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias.” They report their findings to the class, compare observations, and set guidelines for further study.

GENERAL STANDARD 15: Style and Language Students will identify and analyze how an author’s words appeal to the senses, create imagery, suggest mood, and set tone and provide evidence from the text to support their understanding. 15.9 Identify, analyze, and evaluate an author’s use of rhetorical devices in persuasive argument. 15.10 Analyze and compare style and language across significant cross-cultural literary works. For example, students compose essays in which they analyze and compare figurative language in a variety of selections from works such as The Epic of Gilgamesh, The Odyssey, The Hebrew Bible, The New Testament, The Bhagavad-Gita, The Analects of Confucius, and The Koran.

GENERAL STANDARD 19: Writing Students will write with a clear focus, coherent organization, and sufficient detail.

For imaginative/literary writing:* 19.28 Write well-organized stories or scripts with an explicit or implicit theme, using a variety of literary techniques. 19.29 Write poems using a range of forms and techniques. For informational/expository writing: 19.30 Write coherent compositions with a clear focus, objective presentation of alternate views, rich detail, well-developed paragraphs, and logical argumentation. For example, students compose an essay for their English and American history classes on de Toqueville’s observations of American life in the 1830s, examining whether his characterization of American society is still applicable today.

GENERAL STANDARD 20: Consideration of Audience and Purpose Students will write for different audiences and purposes.

20.6 Use effective rhetorical techniques and demonstrate understanding of purpose, speaker, audience, and form when completing expressive, persua­ sive, or literary writing assignments.

GENERAL STANDARD 21: Revising Students will demonstrate improvement in organization, content, paragraph development, level of detail, style, tone, and word choice (diction) in their compositions after revising them.

21.9 Revise writing to improve style, word choice, sentence variety, and subtlety of meaning after rethinking how well questions of purpose, audience, and genre have been addressed. For example, after rethinking how well they have handled matters of style, meaning, and tone from the perspective of the major rhetorical elements, graduating seniors revise a formal letter to their school committee, detail­ ing how they have benefited from the education they have received in the district and offering suggestions for improving the educational experience of future students.

GENERAL STANDARD 22: Standard English Conventions Students will use knowledge of standard English conventions in their writing, revising, and editing.

22.10 Use all conventions of standard English when writing and editing.

GENERAL STANDARD 23: Organizing Ideas in Writing Students will organize ideas in writing in a way that makes sense for their purpose.

23.14 Organize ideas for emphasis in a way that suits the purpose of the writer. For example, students select a method of giving emphasis (most important information first or last, most important idea has the fullest or briefest presentation) when supporting a thesis about characterization in Edwin Arlington Robinson’s narrative poems, “Richard Corey” and “Miniver Cheevy.” Or students use one of five methods (comparison and contrast, illustration, classification, definition, analysis) of organizing their ideas in exposition as determined by the needs of their topic. 23.15 Craft sentences in a way that supports the underlying logic of the ideas. For example, after writing a critical essay, students examine each sentence to determine whether the placement of phrases or dependent clauses supports the emphasis they desire in the sentence and in the paragraph as a whole.

GENERAL STANDARD 24: Research* Students will gather information from a variety of sources, analyze and evaluate the quality of the information they obtain, and use it to answer their own questions.