Poetry

Day 5

Tell Meby Shel Silverstein, Falling Up

Tell me I'm clever,Tell me I'm kind,Tell me I'm talented,Tell me I'm cute,Tell me I'm sensitive,Graceful and WiseTell me I'm perfect--But tell me the TRUTH.

Tell Me Poems• Each of you will use the template

to write your own Tell Me poem.

– What do you want others to know about you?

– What would you want others to tell you?

– Remember, this is one of the poems that will go in your project!

– Yours do not have to be one word per line, but keep them relatively consistent in length.

Tell Me Tell me I’m ___________,Tell me I’m ___________,Tell me I’m ___________,Tell me I’m ___________,Tell me I’m ___________,__________ and

_________Tell me I’m ___________--But tell me the TRUTH.

MAYA ANGELOUPoet Focus

Series Poems

• Series poems are made up of 3 or more poems that share a common link– Each poem must be able to stand on its own– This link may be content, style, rhyme scheme– Need to be in the same format with the same

number of lines– Best when written in free verse

A WEIGHTY PROVERB “Cheese,” yells the adolescentoutside, but why is he peddling dairygoods in front of a movie theater? The cows don’t put in fortyhours a week to have their goods soldon the street for a shiny nickel. A dime would be more reasonable. Dimes are high quality coinage mintedonly to make the worthless penny seem large, so the oldersibling can trade the younger forthe smaller. I saved some pennies once I earned a heavy pocket.

BLINDING ASIA In the lobby the child pointsout an owl at the bottom ofthe poster for an upcoming movie. Soaring through his mind the sign of wisdom is smotheredwith butter and sold for four fifty. Hold the salt though,that’s for us to throwin our competition’s eyes over test scores that arereceding faster than a largefountain soda. Can I get a refill? No ice.

ORIGINAL THOUGHT The lights turn to black whenthe first preview colors the screenand fills the speakers with regurgitations of the last box office hit. Creativitydries up in the third gradefaster than a puddle in the Sahara. The desert of my mindnow searches the silver screen forhelp creating creativity. My flashlight illuminates my paper as I scrawl down sights of interest in the background. “Turn that light off!” he yells. “Stop talking. How rude!”

TED KOOSERPoet Focus