Poetry is the essence of life
This presentation is the property of its rightful owner.
Sponsored Links
1 / 34

Poetry is the essence of life. PowerPoint PPT Presentation

  • Uploaded on
  • Presentation posted in: General

Poetry is the essence of life. Respond to this: I think poetry is. . . (write about ½ a page). Poetry is a way of expressing one’s innermost feelings Poets uses poetic techniques and devices to convey their message. A Poet’s perspective or point of view affects his/her message. .

Download Presentation

Poetry is the essence of life.

An Image/Link below is provided (as is) to download presentation

Download Policy: Content on the Website is provided to you AS IS for your information and personal use and may not be sold / licensed / shared on other websites without getting consent from its author.While downloading, if for some reason you are not able to download a presentation, the publisher may have deleted the file from their server.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - E N D - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Presentation Transcript

Poetry is the essence of life

Poetry is the essence of life.

Respond to this:

I think poetry is. . . (write about ½ a page)

Poetry is the essence of life

  • Poetry is a way of expressing one’s innermost feelings

  • Poets uses poetic techniques and devices to convey their message.

  • A Poet’s perspective or point of view affects his/her message.

What is the definition of poetry

What is the definition of poetry?

  • A piece of writing that expresses emotion or tells a story, may have rhythm, is not prose, and contains language that is chosen for its sound and suggestive nature to convey a message.

Elements of poetry

Elements of Poetry

  • Stanza: a division of a poem, similar to a paragraph

  • End Rhyme: words at the end of a line of poetry that share a sound.

  • Rhyme scheme: determining the similarity of end sounds using alphabetical lettering that changes with each new sound.

Apparently with no surprise emily dickinson

“Apparently with no surprise”(Emily Dickinson)

Apparently with no surprise,To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play,In accidental power.The blond assassin passes on.The sun proceeds unmoved,To measure off another day,For an approving God. 

Elements of poetry1

Elements of poetry

  • Imagery : concrete details that appeal to the senses of sight, sound, touch , smell, and taste or to internal feelings

  • Alliteration: the repeated consonant sounds at the beginnings of words or within words

  • Assonance: repetition of vowel sounds in stressed words or syllables.

  • Onomatopoeia: the use of words whose sounds suggest their meaning or use

Elements of poetry2

Elements of Poetry

  • Simile: a comparison between two unlike things using like or as to connect the comparison

  • Metaphor: an implied comparison between relatively unlike things.

  • Allusion: a reference to something historical or literary-background knowledge is imperative in understand an allusion

I dwell in possibility emily dickinson

“I dwell in Possibility”Emily dickinson

  • I dwell in Possibility –

  • A fairer House than Prose –

  • More numerous of Windows –

  • Superior – for Doors –

  • Of Chambers as the Cedars –

  • Impregnable of eye –

  • And for an everlasting Roof

  • The Gambrels of the Sky –

  • Of Visitors – the fairest –

  • For Occupation – This –

  • The spreading wide my narrow Hands

  • To gather Paradise –

I could not stop for death

“I could not stop for Death”


Emily dickinson

Emily Dickinson

  • What can you find out about her life?

    • Work with a partner to find out as much about Emily Dickinson as is necessary to understand:

      • When she lived

      • What she experienced

      • Why she writes poetry

      • About the topics she writes about

  • How did Emily Dickinson’s background/life affect her writing?



  • Compose a one stanza, four line poem with AABB rhyme scheme about your favorite sport or activity.

Types of poetry

Types of Poetry

  • Villanelle: a French love poem

  • Narrative: a poem that tells a story

  • Ballad: a narrative poem often of folk origin intended to be sung. – simple stanzas – usually with a recurrent refrain

  • Lyric: poetry that expresses subjective thoughts and feelings often in songlike form or style

  • Sonnet: 14 line poetic verse usually in iambic pentameter with a fixed rhyme scheme

Types of poetry1

Types of poetry

  • Limerick- humorous nonsensical verse of five lines with a rhyme scheme of AABBA

  • Haiku: unrhymed Japanese verse of three lines with 5, 7, 5 syllable formation

Elements of poetry3

Elements of poetry

  • Terset: a unit of three lines of poetry

  • Rhythm a series of stressed and unstressed sounds in a group of words; it may be regular or varied

  • Refrain: phrase or verse repeated at intervals throughout a song or poem

Ee cummings

EE cummings

  • Research what you think may be important about his life.

  • Was he known for being a rebel with his poetry? Why?

    What generalizations or predictions can you make about the influence of his life upon his writing?

    How is he similar or different from Emily Dickenson?

Other titles to add to our study

Other Titles to add to our Study

  • “Do not go gentle into that good Night” –thomas

  • How do I love thee- browning

  • The Gift Outright

  • Ozymandias

  • We Real Cool

  • Spring and Fall

  • My Heart Leaps Up

  • Sonnet 18—shakespeare

  • The Lake Isle of Innisfree

  • Mending Wall-Frost

  • Theme for English B- Hughes

  • Dreams-hughes

  • Harlem –Hughes

  • How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix- Browning

  • The Cremation of Sam McGee

  • I, too, sing America

  • O Captain, My Captain

  • Twelfth song of Thunder

  • The Railway Train

  • The Road Not taken

  • Chicago

  • Paul Revere’s Ride

More titles

More titles

  • I, too, sing America

  • O Captain, My Captain

  • Twelfth song of Thunder

  • The Railway Train

  • The Road Not taken

  • Chicago

  • Paul Revere’s Ride



  • Compose a simile about your age:

    Ex: Being ____________ is like ___________

    Now change your simile to a metaphor



  • Using “Lake Isle of Innisfree”--Yeats, “Spring and Fall”--Hopkins and “We Real Cool”-Brooks and “Buffalo Bill’s-Cummings”

    • Determine the rhyme and rhyme scheme

    • Find examples of elements of poetry

    • Note and look up unfamiliar words

    • Background of author

    • Determine the main idea of the poems– What is the poet trying to say to you?

Poetry is the essence of life

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

by W. B. Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15529#sthash.pvHrWDYK.dpuf

Buffalo bill s ee cummings

Buffalo Bill’s eecummings

Buffalo Bill 's


who used to

ride a watersmooth-silver


and break onetwothreefourfivepigeonsjustlikethat


he was a handsome man

and what i want to know is

how do you like your blueeyed boy

Mister Death

Spring and fall hopkins

Spring and fall Hopkins

to a young child

Márgarét, áre you gríeving

Over Goldengroveunleaving?

Leáves like the things of man, you

With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?

Ah! ás the heart grows older

It will come to such sights colder

By and by, nor spare a sigh

Though worlds of wanwoodleafmeal lie;

And yet you wíll weep and know why.

Now no matter, child, the name:

Sórrow’sspríngsáre the same.

Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed

What heart heard of, ghost guessed:

It ís the blight man was born for,

It is Margaret you mourn for.

We real cool by gwendolyn brooks


  • The Pool Players.

  • Seven at the Golden Shovel.

  • We real cool. We

  • Left school. We

  • Lurk late. We

  • Strike straight. We

  • Sing sin. We

  • Thin gin. We

  • Jazz June. We

  • Die soon.



  • Analyze one of the following (3) poems using the TP-CASTT format:

    • “Do not go gentle into that good Night”—Thomas

    • “Mending Wall”—Frost

    • “Theme for English B”– Hughes

Do not go gentle into that good night thomas

Do not go Gentle into that Good nightThomas

  • 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 theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir 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 sightBlind 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.

  • - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.5v0HDLHr.dpuf

Mending wall frost

Mending Wall Frost

Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun; And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not one stone on a stone, But they would have the rabbit out of hiding, To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean, No one has seen them made or heard them made, But at spring mending-time we find them there. I let my neighbour know beyond the hill; And on a day we meet to walk the line And set the wall between us once again. We keep the wall between us as we go. To each the boulders that have fallen to each. And some are loaves and some so nearly balls We have to use a spell to make them balance: "Stay where you are until our backs are turned!" We wear our fingers rough with handling them. Oh, just another kind of out-door game, One on a side. It comes to little more: There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, "Good fences make good neighbours." Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head: "Why do they make good neighbours? Isn't it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down." I could say "Elves" to him, But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather He said it for himself. I see him there Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed. He moves in darkness as it seems to me, Not of woods only and the shade of trees. He will not go behind his father's saying, And he likes having thought of it so well He says again, "Good fences make good neighbours." 

Theme for english b

Theme for English B

The instructor said,   Go home and write   a page tonight.   And let that page come out of you—   Then, it will be true.I wonder if it's that simple?I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.I went to school there, then Durham, then hereto this college on the hill above Harlem.I am the only colored student in my class.The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevatorup to my room, sit down, and write this page:It's not easy to know what is true for you or me at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:hear you, hear me—we two—you, me, talk on this page.(I hear New York, too.) Me—who?Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.I like a pipe for a Christmas present,or records—Bessie, bop, or Bach.I guess being colored doesn't make me not likethe same things other folks like who are other races.So will my page be colored that I write?Being me, it will not be white. But it will bea part of you, instructor. You are white— yet a part of me, as I am a part of you. That's American.Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me. Nor do I often want to be a part of you.But we are, that's true! As I learn from you, I guess you learn from me— although you're older—and white— and somewhat more free.This is my page for English B.

I too sing america hughes

I, Too, sing AmericaHughes

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.

They send me to eat in the kitchen

When company comes,

But I laugh,

And eat well,

And grow strong.


I'll be at the table

When company comes.

Nobody'll dare

Say to me,

"Eat in the kitchen,"



They'll see how beautiful I am

And be ashamed—

I, too, am America.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15615#sthash.wbhiVG0C.dpuf

Complete the Analysis of this poem by completed all questions in the packet.

Don’t forget to draft your own “Today/Tomorrow Poem”

Paul revere s ride longfellow

Read and Complete the Analysis of this poem according to the questions in the packet. Don’t forget to create your own parody.

Paul Revere’s RideLongfellow

  • Listen my children and you shall hearOf the midnight ride of Paul Revere,On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;Hardly a man is now aliveWho remembers that famous day and year.He said to his friend, "If the British marchBy land or sea from the town to-night,Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry archOf the North Church tower as a signal light,--One if by land, and two if by sea;And I on the opposite shore will be,Ready to ride and spread the alarmThrough every Middlesex village and farm,For the country folk to be up and to arm."

  • Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oarSilently rowed to the Charlestown shore,Just as the moon rose over the bay,Where swinging wide at her moorings layThe Somerset, British man-of-war;A phantom ship, with each mast and sparAcross the moon like a prison bar,And a huge black hulk, that was magnifiedBy its own reflection in the tide.

  • Meanwhile, his friend through alley and streetWanders and watches, with eager ears,Till in the silence around him he hearsThe muster of men at the barrack door,The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,And the measured tread of the grenadiers,Marching down to their boats on the shore.

  • Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,To the belfry chamber overhead,And startled the pigeons from their perchOn the sombre rafters, that round him madeMasses and moving shapes of shade,--By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,To the highest window in the wall,Where he paused to listen and look downA moment on the roofs of the townAnd the moonlight flowing over all.

  • Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,In their night encampment on the hill,Wrapped in silence so deep and stillThat he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,The watchful night-wind, as it wentCreeping along from tent to tent,And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"A moment only he feels the spellOf the place and the hour, and the secret dreadOf the lonely belfry and the dead;For suddenly all his thoughts are bentOn a shadowy something far away,Where the river widens to meet the bay,--A line of black that bends and floatsOn the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

  • Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,Booted and spurred, with a heavy strideOn the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.Now he patted his horse's side,Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,And turned and tightened his saddle girth;But mostly he watched with eager searchThe belfry tower of the Old North Church,As it rose above the graves on the hill,Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's heightA glimmer, and then a gleam of light!He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,But lingers and gazes, till full on his sightA second lamp in the belfry burns.

  • A hurry of hoofs in a village street,A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a sparkStruck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,The fate of a nation was riding that night;And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,Kindled the land into flame with its heat.He has left the village and mounted the steep,And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;And under the alders that skirt its edge,Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

  • It was twelve by the village clockWhen he crossed the bridge into Medford town.He heard the crowing of the cock,And the barking of the farmer's dog,And felt the damp of the river fog,That rises after the sun goes down.

  • It was one by the village clock,When he galloped into Lexington.He saw the gilded weathercockSwim in the moonlight as he passed,And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,Gaze at him with a spectral glare,As if they already stood aghastAt the bloody work they would look upon.

  • It was two by the village clock,When he came to the bridge in Concord town.He heard the bleating of the flock,And the twitter of birds among the trees,And felt the breath of the morning breezeBlowing over the meadow brown.And one was safe and asleep in his bedWho at the bridge would be first to fall,Who that day would be lying dead,Pierced by a British musket ball.

  • You know the rest. In the books you have readHow the British Regulars fired and fled,---How the farmers gave them ball for ball,>From behind each fence and farmyard wall,Chasing the redcoats down the lane,Then crossing the fields to emerge againUnder the trees at the turn of the road,And only pausing to fire and load.

  • So through the night rode Paul Revere;And so through the night went his cry of alarmTo every Middlesex village and farm,---A cry of defiance, and not of fear,A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,And a word that shall echo for evermore!For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,Through all our history, to the last,In the hour of darkness and peril and need,The people will waken and listen to hearThe hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

O captain my captain whitman

O captain, My Captain!Whitman

Read and Complete the Analysis of this poem according to the questions in the packet. Don’t forget to try an original in Whitman’s Style.

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;

The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills; 10

For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head;

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;

From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

The road not taken frost

The Road Not taken Frost

Read and Complete the Analysis of this poem according to the questions in the packet. Don’t forget to write an original choice poem.

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.

Chicago sandburg

Chicago Sandburg

Read and Complete the Analysis of this poem according to the questions in the packet. Don’t forget to write an original Place poem.

Hog Butcher for the World,

Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,

Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;

Stormy, husky, brawling,

City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.

And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.

And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.

Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,





Building, breaking, rebuilding,

Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,

Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,

Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,

Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people,


Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

Tp castt


  • Any two poems that we have not analyzed in class together.

Original poetry

Original Poetry

  • Work on editing any poetry that you have already written that you wish to perfect.

  • Write three more original poems in any format, style or type you wish

  • About any topic you wish

  • Do not leave them in the rough draft phase– I wish to see edited and revised work on these three poems.

  • Login