What is poetry? How do we know?

Poetryby Eleanor Farjeon

What is Poetry? Who knows?Not a rose, but the scent of the rose;Not the sky, but the light in the sky;Not the fly, but the gleam of the fly;Not the sea, but the sound of the

sea;Not myself, but what makes meSee, hear, and feel something that

proseCannot: and what it is, who knows?

These Characteristics are:

(1)It should look like a poem, meaning that lines don’t run to the margins. Some lines are not even sentences.

(2)There are usually some musical devices that give the poem a song-like, lyrical quality.

(3)Images are conveyed through sensory details and figurative language.

(4)The poem has some form to hold it together. Some poems actually have a prescribed form like haikus and sonnets.

(5) The poem has some meaning, image or emotion it wants to share with the reader. These three things are shown by the above four. That makes a poem!

ImageryImagery

Imagery is the senses the poem evokes in the reader. Imagery puts the reader in the poem. It helps the reader to “see” the poem.

The tools of imagery are1. Senses : sound, sight, touch, smell, taste,

and emotion.

2. Figurative language : metaphor, simile, personification, hyperbole, etc.

1- Sensory details1- Sensory details

Sensory details touch the five senses. They make the poem vivid to the reader.

Let’s look at the sensory details in the poem “Those Winter Sundays.”

Those Winter SundaysSundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he’d call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love’s austere and lonely offices?

Robert Hayden

2- Figurative Language2- Figurative Language

Figurative language is words not meant to be taken literally. The words are symbolic. We know these images as metaphor, simile, personification, hyperbole, and others.

Because the poet is comparing a less familiar object to a common one, the comparison makes the familiar image stronger.

Twinkle, twinkle little star,

How I wonder what you are

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.”

He's as hairy as a gorilla.

Peter laughs like a hyena.

Mr. John is as wise as an owl.

Allow me, it's as easy as ABC.

Because I was embarrassed my face was as red as a ripe tomato.

The world is like a stage.

She got a neck like a pipe.

A Red, Red Rose -Robert Burns (1759~1796)

O My Luve's like a red, red rose,That's newly sprung in June;O My Luve's like the melodieThat's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,So deep in luve am I;And I will luve thee still, my dear,Till a' the seas gang dry, my dearWhile the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve,And fare thee weel, awhile!And I will come again, my luveTho' it ware ten thousand mile!

time is money

time is a thief

you are my sunshine

he has a heart of stone

America is a melting pot

the sun played hide and seek with the cloudsopportunity knocked on the doorthe vines wove their fingers together to form a braidThe house sat proudly on the land, its windows were eyes watching over its kingdom.The pen ran quickly over her page, jumping from word to word as though rushing to finish a race

The VacuumThe house is quiet now

The vacuum cleaner sulks in the corner closet,

Its bag limp as a stopped lung, its mouth

Grinning into the floor, maybe at my

Slovenly life, my dog-dead youth.

I’ve lived this way long enough,

But when my old woman died her soul

Went into that vacuum cleaner, and I can’t bear

To see the bag swell like a belly, eating the dust

And the woolen mice, and begin to howl

Because there is old filth everywhere

She used to crawl, in corner and under the stair.

I know now how life is cheap as dirt,

And still the hungry, angry heart

Hangs on and howls, biting at air.

2- Rhythm

Rhythm in poetry means the flow of sound. This pattern of rhythm in a poem is called meter.

Rhythm is the beat of a poem. It is the pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables.

It is the control of sounds in a poem.

Alice

She drank from a bottle called DRINK ME

And up she grew so ______,

She ate from a plate called TASTE ME

And down she shrank so _______.

And so she changed, while other folks

Never tried nothin’ at ________.

tall

small

all

Marks Linda Pastan

My husband gives me an Afor last night's supper, an incomplete for my ironing, a B plus in bed.My son says I am average, an average mother, but ifI put my mind to itI could improve.My daughter believes in Pass/Fail and tells meI pass. Wait 'til they learnI'm dropping out

l(a

le af fa

ll

s) one

l

iness

L (a leaf falls) oneliness

點仔膠，黏著腳，叫阿爸，買豬腳，豬腳圈，滾爛爛，餓鬼子仔流嘴涎

小皮球，香蕉油，滿地開花二十一，二五六，二五七，二八、二九、三十一、三五六、 ...

三輪車，跑得快，上面坐個老太太，要五毛，給一塊，你說奇怪不奇怪…。

1. The baby was like an octopus, grabbing at all the cans on the grocery store shelves.

2. As the teacher entered the room she muttered under her breath, "This class is like a circus!"

3. The giant’s steps were thunder as he ran toward Jack.

4. The pillow was a cloud when I put my head upon it after a long day.

5. I feel like a limp dishrag. 6. Those girls are like two peas in a pod. 7. The fluorescent light was the sun during our test. 8. No one invites Harold to parties because he’s a wet

blanket.