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Week 2:Sound, Rhythm & Rhyme

POETRYin

ELTChuckSandy

love is more thicker than forgetmore thinner than recallmore seldom than a wave is wetmore frequent than to fail

it is most mad and moonlyand less it shall unbethan all the sea which onlyis deeper than the sea

love is less always than to winless never than aliveless bigger than the least beginless littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunlyand more it cannot diethan all the sky which onlyis higher than the sky- e.e. cummings

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In a Station on the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;Petals on a wet, black bough.

- Ezra Pound

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;Petals on a wet, black bough.

- Ezra Pound

In a Station on the Metro

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The apparition of these faces in the crowd;Petals on a wet, black bough.

- Ezra Pound

In a Station on the Metro

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The apparition of these faces in the crowd;Petals on a wet, black bough.

- Ezra Pound

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The (3 syllables ) of these (2 syllables )in the (1 syllable)

room appearance classesstudents opportunities schoolappetites people bar

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(2 S) on a/n (1 S) (1 S) (1 S ) (in/on/ at)Noun Adj Adj Noun

French fries bright schoolLearners round platePizza drab tongueCourse books red room______ hot _____

dull____

The favorite of those people at that bar?Whiskey on the rocks … by far.

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The honesty of this young man in classDesire is a bright red dress.

Poetry becomes

that language lesson we might

not otherwise have had.

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Only a bunch ofswallows over and overthe darkening stream.

- Cid Corman

(5) Only a bunch of(7) swallows over and over(5) the darkening stream.

HAIKU

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The low yellowmoon above the

Quiet lamplit house

- Jack Kerouac

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The impossible --we can make it possiblepreached former leaders.Our government nowworks to turn what's possibleinto the impossible.

- Tekkan Yosano

5 The impossible --7 we can make it possible5 preached former leaders.5 Our government now7 works to turn what's possible7 into the impossible.

TANKA

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https://sentiodotme.wordpress.com/tag/tanka/

How strange it isTo hover over words, like the smokeFrom the loggers’ fire, over the valley

- Linda Bogen

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How strange it isTo hover over words, like the smokeFrom the loggers’ fire, over the valley

- Linda Bogen

AssonanceThe repetition of vowel sounds.Sometimes creates internal rhymes

The moon was shining sulkily,Because she thought the sunHad got no business to be thereAfter the day was done—“It’s very rude of him,” she said,“To come and spoil the fun!”

- Lewis Carroll

Count the S sounds

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The moon was shining sulkily,Because she thought the sunHad got no business to be thereAfter the day was done—“It’s very rude of him,” she said,“To come and spoil the fun!”

ConsonanceRepetition of consonant sounds

The low yellowmoon above the

Quiet lamplit house

- Jack Kerouac

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The low yellowmoon above the

Quiet lamplit house___

___

___- Jack Kerouac

He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound's the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.

From …Stopping by Woodson a Snowy Eveningby Robert Frost

Consonance

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Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse nearBetween the woods and frozen lakeThe darkest evening of the year.

End Rhyme Pattens

He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound’s the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep.

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Whose woods these are I think I know. AHis house is in the village though; AHe will not see me stopping here BTo watch his woods fill up with snow. A

My little horse must think it queer BTo stop without a farmhouse near BBetween the woods and frozen lake CThe darkest evening of the year. B

He gives his harness bells a shakeTo ask if there is some mistake.The only other sound’s the sweepOf easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep.

A Teacher’s LamentBY KALLI DAKOS

Don’t tell me the cat ate your math sheet,And your spelling words went down the drain,And you couldn’t decipher your homework,Because it was soaked in the rain.

Don’t tell me you slaved for hoursOn the project that’s due today,And you would have had it finishedIf your snake hadn’t run away.

quatrains

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Don’t tell me you lost your eraser,And your worksheets and pencils, too,And your papers are stuck togetherWith a great big glob of glue.

I’m tired of all your excuses;They are really a terrible bore.Besides, I forgot my own work,At home in my study drawer.

Kalli Dakos, “A Teacher’s Lament” fromIf You’re Not Here, Please Raise Your Hand,Copyright © 1990 by Kalli Dakos.

Mrs. SteinBY BILL DODDS

The school bell rings, we go inside,Our teacher isn’t there.“Maybe she’s sick!” her pet cries out.Yeah, right. As if I’d care.

I have a D in Language Arts,My grade in math’s the same.And now my teacher might be sick.Could be I’m part to blame.

She doesn’t like me, that’s a fact,I wouldn’t tell a lie.She says stuff like: “You’re very smart,But you don’t even try.”

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I start to laugh—my teacher’s sick!And boy, I’m feeling fine . . .When someone knocks the door right in,And there stands Frankenstein.

She’s six-foot-eight, her dress is black,She’s wearing combat boots.I start to gasp, she growls and says,“I’ll be your substitute.”

The teacher’s pet is whimpering;She doesn’t stand a chance.The smart kid stares and points and faints.The bully wets his pants.

“My name is Mrs. Stein,” she says,And every student cringes.She leans the door against the wall,She’s knocked it off its hinges.

“Now let’s begin. You there! Stand up!”She looks me in the eye.I try to move, my legs won’t work.I know I’m going to die!

In one big step she’s next to me,And she does more than hover.She blocks the sun, it’s dark as night,My classmates run for cover.

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“Now get up to the board,” she says.“I’d like to see some action.Pick up the chalk, explain to usDivision of a fraction.”

I leap away to save my life,This time I really try.I think and think and think and croak,“Invert and multiply.”

“Correct! She says. I breathe againAnd head back for my chair.“You, FREEZE!” she shouts, and I stop cold.“And don’t go anywhere.”

This all begins at nine o’clock,I fight to stay alive.It seems to last a million years—The clock says nine-o-five.

That’s just three hundred seconds,And then my turn is through.She points at every one of us—“Now you. Now, you. Now, you.”

We all get nailed this awful day,There’s nowhere we can hide.The lunch bell rings, we cannot eat,We simply crawl outside.

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We can’t believe the other kidsWho run and play their games.Not us, who have big Mrs. Stein—Our world is not the same.

The bell has tolled, I must go in,My time on earth is through.I’ll leave this on the playground—Here’s what you have to do.

You must listen to your teacherAnd pray her health is fine,Or one day soon you’ll hear the words:“My name is Mrs. Stein.”

Copyright © 1991 by Bill Dodds.Source: Kids Pick the Funniest Poems(Meadowbrook Press, 1991)

Invitation Standing- Paul Blackburn

BRING a leaf to mejust a leaf just aspring leaf, anapril leafjustcome

Blue skynever mindSpring rainnever mindReach up andtake a leaf andcomejust come

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Assignment For Week 2Choose & record yourself reading a poem

that's full of rhythm, cadence, and rhyme.

Use SoundCloud or a simlar app to recordhttps://soundcloud.com/

Name of poem / AuthorPrinted poemLink to the recordingWrite up some ideas for how you mightuse this poem in class. Indicate age / level.

since feeling is firstwho pays any attentionto the syntax of thingswill never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a foolwhile Spring is in the world

my blood approves,and kisses are a far better fatethan wisdomlady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry--the best gesture of my brain is less thanyour eyelids' flutter which says

we are for eachother: thenlaugh, leaning back in my armsfor life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis”

-- e.e. cummungs