Intro to poetry. English I Unit 9.7. What is Poetry?. Poetry has been described as “the best words in their best order.” ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge “Poetry is like making a joke. If you get one word wrong at the end of a joke, you’ve lost the whole thing .” ~ W.S. Merwin
~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge
~ W.S. Merwin
~ Joseph Roux
~ Thomas Gray
Poetry is as much about form as it is about language and sound.
Like music, language has a rhythm. In poetry, the pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables in each line is what creates the rhythm.
She comes by night, in fearsome flight,
In garments black as pitch,
The queen of doom upon her broom,
The wild and wicked witch,
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,The furrow followed free;We were the first that ever burstInto that silent sea.
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;
Peaceful and cool, the twilight grey
Draws a dim curtain o’er the day,
While in my cottage-porch I lurk
And watch the last lone hour of work.
i suppose living
in a materialistic society
to some would be having
more than what you need
“There are only three things . . . that a poem must reach: the eye, the ear, and the heart or the mind. It is the most important of all to reach the heart of the reader. And the surest way to reach the heart is through the ear.” ~ Robert Frost
I wanna live life, never be cruel,I wanna live life, be good to you.I wanna fly, never come down,And live my life, And have friends around.
Everything is everythingWhat is meant to be, will beAfter winter, must come springChange, it comes eventually
Nature’s first green is gold,Her hardest hue to hold.Her early leaf’s a flower;But only so an hour.
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked.If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppersHow many pickled peppers did Peter Piper pick?
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the sideOf my darling, my darling, my life and my bride.
I don’t like English class,
I like the people in here though,
I go with the flow; so Ms. Finch
Won’t throw me out for being a grinch.
The first time I walkedWith a girl, I was twelve,Cold, and weighted downWith two oranges in my jacket.December. Frost crackingBeneath my steps, my breathBefore me, then gone,As I walked towardHer house,
Her house, the one whosePorch light burned yellowNight and day, in any weather.A dog barked at me, untilShe came out pullingAt her gloves, face brightWith rouge. I smiled,Touched her shoulder, and ledHer down the street,