Poetry. Warm Up. WRITE A QUICK POEM 3 LINES ANY TOPIC. Poetry. Analyzing Poetry Read twice! Notate Look for : Symbolism Meaning Theme Figurative Language. Let’s Look at an example.
Warm Up • WRITE A QUICK POEM • 3 LINES • ANY TOPIC
Poetry Analyzing Poetry • Read twice! • Notate • Look for : • Symbolism • Meaning • Theme • Figurative Language
Let’s Look at an example "Same Song"by Pat MoraWhile my sixteen year-old son sleeps,My twelve year-old daughterStumbles into the bathroom at six a.m.Plugs in the curling ironSqueezes into faded jeansCurls her hair carefullyStrokes Aztec Blue shadow on her eyelidsSmoothes Frosted Mauve blusher on her cheeksOutlines her mouth in Neon PinkPeers into the mirror, mirror on the wallFrowns at her face, her eyes, her skin Not fair. • At night this daughterStumbles off to bed at nineEyes half-shut while my sonJogs a mile in the cold darkThen lifts weights in the garageCurls and bench pressesExpanding biceps, triceps, pectorals,One-handed push-ups, one hundred sit-upsPeers into that mirror, mirror and frowns too. They are singing the same song.
Now you try!Langston Hughes Mother to Son • Read the poem! • Travel to each poster and write down the • Symbolism • Meaning • Theme • Figurative Language Well, son, I'll tell you:Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.It's had tacks in it,And splinters,And boards torn up,And places with no carpet on the floor --Bare.But all the timeI'se been a-climbin' on,And reachin' landin's,And turnin' corners,And sometimes goin' in the darkWhere there ain't been no light.So boy, don't you turn back.Don't you set down on the steps'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.Don't you fall now --For I'se still goin', honey,I'se still climbin',And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
On your own • Refugee in America Langston Hughes There are words like FreedomSweet and wonderful to say. On my heart-strings freedom sings All day everyday. • There are words like LibertyThat almost make me cry. If you had known what I knew You would know why. • Symbolism • Meaning • Theme • Figurative language
Warm Up The year has turned its circle, The seasons come and go. The harvest is all gathered in, And chilly north winds blow. Orchards have shared their treasures, The fields, their yellow grain. So open wide the doorway- Thanksgiving comes again • Add figurative/ sensory language to improve the poem.
http://app.discoveryeducation.com/search#selItemsPerPage=20&intCurrentPage=0&No=0&N=18342%252B4294950329&Ne=4294965172&Ntt=poetry&Ns=&Nr=&browseFilter=&indexVersion=&Ntk=All&Ntx=mode%252Bmatchallpartialhttp://app.discoveryeducation.com/search#selItemsPerPage=20&intCurrentPage=0&No=0&N=18342%252B4294950329&Ne=4294965172&Ntt=poetry&Ns=&Nr=&browseFilter=&indexVersion=&Ntk=All&Ntx=mode%252Bmatchallpartial • Watch the video • List 10 facts about poetry
Poetry Carousel • Read each poem find one example of figurative language and title the poem based on the theme.
1. You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries. Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own back yard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise.
2. The days are being broken Each one getting shorter I hesitate to go outside Below 30 degrees it is I look on the faces of children Outside freezing Their faces are ivory Just like the snow Coming inside to taste The bittersweet tea The warmth sends comfort All through your bones
3. Danitra sits hunched on the stoop and pouts. • I ask her what there is to pout about. • "Nothin' much," she says to me, • but then I see her eyes following the ice cream man. • I shove my hand into my pocket • and find the change there where I left it. • "Be right back," I yell, running down the street. • Me and my fast feet are there and back in just two shakes. • Danitra breaks the Popsicle in two and gives me half. • The purple ice trickles down her chin. I start to laugh. • Her teeth flash in one humongous grin, • telling me she's glad that I'm her friend without even saying a word.
4. This is the pond, and these are my feet. This is the rooster, and this is more of my feet. Mama was never good at pictures. This is a statue of a famous general who lost an arm, And this is me with my head cut off. This is a trash can chained to a gate, This is my father with his eyes half-closed. This is a photograph of my sister And a giraffe looking over her shoulder. This is our car's front bumper. This is a bird with a pretzel in its beak. This is my brother Pedro standing on one leg on a rock, With a smear of chocolate on his face. Mama sneezed when she looked Behind the camera: the snapshots are blurry, The angles dizzy as a spin on a merry-go-round. But we had fun when Mama picked up the camera. How can I tell? Each of us is laughing hard. Can you see? I have candy in my mouth.
5. He was a big man, says the size of his shoes • on a pile of broken dishes by the house; • a tall man too, says the length of the bed • in an upstairs room; and a good, God-fearing man, • says the Bible with a broken back • on the floor below the window, dusty with sun; • but not a man for farming, say the fields • cluttered with boulders and the leaky barn. • A woanlived with him, says the bedroom wall • papered with lilacs and the kitchen shelves • covered with oilcloth, and they had a child, • says the sandbox made from a tractor tire. • Money was scarce, say the jars of plum preserves • and canned tomatoes sealed in the cellar hole. • And the winters cold, say the rags in the window frames. • It was lonely here, says the narrow country road. • Something went wrong, says the empty house • in the weed-choked yard. Stones in the fields • say he was not a farmer; the still-sealed jars • in the cellar say she left in a nervous haste. • And the child? Its toys are strewn in the yard • like branches after a storm--a rubber cow, • a rusty tractor with a broken plow, • a doll in overalls. Something went wrong, they say.
Warm Up • Free write • WHAT IS YOUR BEST HOLIDAY MEMORY? • Describe it as best as you can.
Warm Up • Write a short fictional story to review plot, characters, and setting. • 2 days
Poetry Centers • Read the poem twice to understand. • Find figurative and sensory language. • Answer the question about the poem. • Each student will hand in their own papers. • Everyone must participate, • Two centers each day