"Desperado"

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?

You been out ridin' fences for so long now

Oh, you're a hard one, I know that you got your reasons

These things that are pleasin' you, Can hurt you somehow

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy

She'll beat you if she's able

You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet

Now it seems to me, some fine things

Have been laid upon your table

But you only want the ones that you can't get

Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger

Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home

And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin'

Your prison is walking through this world all alone

Don't your feet get cold in the winter time?

The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine

It's hard to tell the night time from the day

You're losin' all your highs and lows

Ain't it funny how the feeling goes

Away?

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?

Come down from your fences, open the gate

It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you

You better let somebody love you, before it's too late

-       You demonstrates use of apostrophe

-       queen of diamonds, queen of hearts shows use symbols

-       Rhyme scheme: A-B-C-B  (Refrain: A-B-C-D-B-C as written)

-       pain and  hunger are driving, prison is walking shows personification

-       sky won’t snow and sun won’t shine shows alliteration

-       rainin’ and rainbow are symbols

Hold on...

A Recipe for Success

Greet friends with a smile

Let them know they’re the best

Write a note to your teacher

At the bottom of your test

Tell your momma “I love you”

Before you go to bed

And thank your dad for all he does

To make sure that you are fed

Thank God before you eat

For providing you with food

Thank the one who cooked it up

To add some spirit to their mood

Brush your teeth with Crest each day

And don’t forget to floss

It keeps away the tooth decay

And maintains that shiny gloss

Realize each day you have

Is yet an opportunity

To make the world a better place

 - Or your community.

Analysis of One Art

In the Villanelle poem One Art by Elizabeth Bishop, the author goes to great lengths to convince herself and us that losing things is really not such a problem, and that this can be easily overcome of one only practices this as an “art”.  In the final analysis, however, it becomes clear that the loss of some things, such as dear friends or lovers, are in fact disasters, and Bishop uses the unique form of the villanelle  coupled with examples of increasing value to make her point in a subtle way.

            The form of the villanelle means that the final paragraph uses a pattern of rhyme of ABAA, which in this case means the words gesture, master and disaster reinforce one another.  More importantly, the use of the words master and disaster are repeated from the five tercets that precede the final stanza, which creates a very strong impact when the poem is read.  The concept that Bishop wants to get across is that we must master this disaster of loss, and each of the tercets reinforce this idea even though the things that are lost become increasingly precious.

            The language that Bishop has chosen also helps to create irony between the first 15 lines and the final 4 lines of the poem.  As the poem begins, the focus seems to be on items of no consequence like door keys or perhaps a wasted hour surfing the web.  As the poem progresses, however, we feel that the items that are being lost are increasing in value, and by the last tercet, Bishop even refers to the odd loss of “some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent”. In the closing stanza, however, Bishop finally admits that no matter how hard she tries to convince herself that losing her friend (or lover) is no big deal, that simply isn’t the case. This is demonstrated in the final lines where she writes that "the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster".  In this line, the word “too” now precedes “hard to master” for the first time for extra effect, and Bishop even insert the words “Write it” into the poem as though that’s the only way to convince herself of her argument.

            Elizabeth Bishop does a wonderful job initially of trying to convince us that losing things is really not a disaster, but through the use of this unique poetic form and reinforcement in the end she convinces us of just the opposite – at least for some very special people.

Onomatowhata?

I sing like the canary

For a literary term

Like a frog I might croak!

There’s so many to learn

One I can scream

is “onomatopoeia”

I cackle to myself,

Sounds like “on a pot I pee – yea”

From the howl of the wolf

To the woof of a dog

To the hisss of the snake

To the oink of the hog

This figure of speech

Can be a wonderful tool

Makes noises jump out

So the words become cool!

It creates an image

And your brain gives it form

So that “screech” that you read

Becomes an owl with real charm

A “Dear Facebook” Letter

by Heather Grace Stewart

Dear Facebook:
It’s over.
This time it’s for good.
Cool! A Fan Page for
Boyz n da Hood!

Dear Facebook:
I’m taking
a cyber-vacation.
(Just let me check
that notification.)

Like a moth to the flame,
it’s always the same.
Leaving’s not easy;
weekly won’t do.
You’re using me;
I’m using you.

Dear Facebook:
Deletion.
I think that it’s best.
(Why do I have to
submit a request?)

Dear Facebook:
Not fair!
Guilt’s not very nice.
“Your friends will miss you”
made me think twice.

Like a moth to the flame,
it’s always the same.
Leaving’s not easy;
weekly won’t do.
You’re using me;
I’m using you.

Dear Facebook:
I’m sorry.
You win this fight.
Twitter meant nothing!
It was one night!

I’m socially blind—
it’s like an abyss—
no viral videos;
no urban myths.

Dear Facebook:
You’ve got me.
We’ll never be done.
I’d miss all my friends­—
and Bieber(RealOne).

I looked at a lot of different poems about the internet, Twitter, social media and Facebook, and liked this one a lot.  I know I've personally wasted a lot of time on Facebook, IM, and Texting.  I don't "tweet" and I don't "blog" normally, but they would only make it worse.  I think this poem is pretty cool because it is a great allusion to a very modern topic which connects with just about every student in the U.S.  in one way or another. Not everbody "Facebooks", but nearly everybody has a cel, computer or some way of instantly connecting.  Like this poem says, the whole process is addicting and you can spend hours and not even know it, and in the end it really doesn't accomplish a whole lot - but it still impacts people from virtually every age, even my grandmother Facebooks nearly every day.

                The Miler

Hear me out, this is my tale

Of springtime suffering  - to what avail?

A sunny day, an asphalt path

As we gather, my nervous laugh

The lanes are filled, and voices cease

Nerves on edge, not one knows peace

Bang! A noise, and then I start

Bodies blur, I know my part

Twenty runners clumped as one

Athletic irony, is agony fun?

Four laps to go, my doubts begin

This race is long, I cannot win

“Three to go”, I’ve fallen back

Now consumed within the pack

Will I finish? My hopes are dim

My legs on fire, my breath is thin

Two laps down, this race is long

“Two to go”, am I yet strong?

My heart beats loud, comes through my chest

I tell myself , “This is a test….

If I survive, complete the race

I don’t care if I’m in last place”

“One to go” I hear the bell

And then the crowd begins to yell

My faith renewed, my second wind

I race around the final bend

Now sprinting hard, and moving fast

I realize - -  I won’t be last!

“Pass just three more” I say out loud

My final strength comes from that crowd

I cross the line, fall to the grass

The final three I did just pass

I will be sick, of that I’m sure

Breathing slow my only cure

I leave the field, my race complete

Fist bumps to those I could not beat

I search to find a place to rest

Console myself, “ You did my best”

The Jazz Player

My heart is a jazz beat

With a constant, familiar rhythm

That keeps me on pace every day

Steady and reassuring to guide me along

My mood is a jazz chord

Usually the major, happy and smiling

But sometimes a minor, sad and reflective

And some days diminished, just leaving me hanging

My mind is a jazz song

Never a repeat performance

A new experience every day

strengthened by constant improvisation

My soul is a jazz player

Strengthened by my heart

Inspired by my mood

Created in my mind

                                                                                  My Favorite Poem


I don't really have a favorite poem, except maybe for a few verses from the Bible that I keep in my head or the lyrics to some of my favorite songs (mostly rap/R&B stuff). One that I do remember that has been some inspiration is The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson. I know this was also an illustration used in the movie The Blind Side, but that doesn't take away from the value it has had for me ever since I first wrote about it in an English class several years ago. The poem commemorates the loss of 250 (out of 600) English soldiers who died in a suicide mission during the Crimean War after taking on a Russian opponent that was far superior and against whom they had no chance.  Yet in spite of knowing this going into the battle, they did not quit or retreat, but fought with everything they had.


The  personal meaning is related to my playing on basketball teams year-round since I was in the 6th grade.  I've been involved in sports since I was 4 (baseball, soccer, basketball, now track), but basketball has always been my favorite. Just because it's something you love doesn't make it come easy, however, and for a long time I was the shortest player on my team.  I have also been the only "white" player on both my travel and school teams for over 6 years.  My teammates are my best friends, and they have always stood by me and taken protected me, even when I was intimidated by my size and a little scared of being different than everyone else in the entire gym on many occasions.  Even so, as an  athlete competing against teams that have awesome talent, there are days when you go into a game knowing that no matter how hard you play, you're going to lose... by a lot.  You know you will face an opponent who is bigger, faster, and stronger, and you realize it will be mentally tough as well as physically rough, often dealing with a lot of talk that happens on the court that the fans  and coaches never hear.  However, you must press on "into the battle" with everything you have, even knowing the outcome, and even though in the end it's just a game.

                                  The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Half a league half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred:

'Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns' he said:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'

Was there a man dismay'd ?

Not tho' the soldier knew

Some one had blunder'd:

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do & die,

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd & thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,

Flash'd as they turn'd in air

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army while

All the world wonder'd:

Plunged in the battery-smoke

Right thro' the line they broke;

Cossack & Russian

Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,

Shatter'd & sunder'd.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

While horse & hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro' the jaws of Death,

Back from the mouth of Hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wonder'd.

Honour the charge they made!

Honour the Light Brigade,

        Noble six hundred!

WHERE I'M FROM

I am from April storms and sticky July summers

Early December ice storms and yellow Poplars in fall

I’m from Hilton Head breaks and hikes in the Smokies

And a Butterball carved by Papa every November

I live in a world of initials, “AAU”, “YBOA”

The only white player on my teams for 6 years

I’m from Honda minivans filled with AND1 and Nike,

Spalding and Gatorade, the smell of sweat in the air

I play sounds from a Selmer and the jazz of Steve Watson

Directing marchers on football fields every Autumn afternoon

I’m from bumper stickers proclaiming “I think, therefore I.B.”

Meaning evenings and weekends filled with formulas and books

I’ve from “Tee Are” First Baptist in a small southern town

I know where to find Malachi and Zechariah

I’m from Miyabi, Melting Pot and Waffle House,

(Though never all on the same day!)

My parents are doctors of chemistry, not medicine

The Periodic Table of the Elements serves as my placemat

And “Ginger” and “Jeminy” and “Jax” and “Little Pooh”

Often fight for a spot to sleep on my bed.

TP-CASTT Analysis

TITLE:  “Sympathy” suggests that the author of the poem will want us to feel sympathy for him, for a particular situation, or that he has sympathy for another person or situation.

PARAPHRASE:  This poem is about a caged bird wishing for its freedom.  It can see other birds that are free, it can see the beauty of nature, but it is trapped.  In the 2^nd stanza it becomes clear that the bird wants freedom so badly it has hurt itself on the bars of the cage by flapping its wings.  In the third stanza it seems as though there is no hope for freedom and the bird is singing a sad song of defeat and prayer to Heaven

CONNOTATION: 

Form:  Regular Verse, abaabcc

Diction: Simple

Imagery:  Imagery of nature, of the birds injured wings, the confinement in the cage, the loss of hope the bird feels

Point of View: First person Narrative

Details: Vivid description of the plight of a caged bird with which the author shares the same feelings of entrapment

Allusions: Do not observe any

Symbolism:  The cage symbolizes the entrapment that the author feels, and the bird symbolizes the author himself.

Figurative Language:  Examples include “wind stirs”, “springing grass”, “like a stream of glass”, “chalice steals”

ATTITUDE: The author is the speaker in this poem, and he is sharing through the poem that he feels just like the caged bird, which is the subject of the poem.  The title shows his sympathy with the plight of the bird, because he feels the same strong emotions and despair as the bird.

SHIFTS:  The biggest shifts occur between each stanza.  There is a feeling that the bird is more and more frustrated and hopeless in its situation as the poem progresses.

TITLE: The title shows the feelings of the author of sympathy with the caged bird, because he himself feels trapped as well

THEME:  The theme of this poem loss of freedom and the pain that is caused to someone who has lost that freedom.  In the poem, this takes the form of a caged bird.  But the poet demonstrates that others can feel the same frustration as the bird in their lives.

Questions:

1.     The caged bird wants to be free.  He is trapped in a cage and longs to be out in the wild, with the wind and the sun and other birds.

2.     The caged bird can see other birds who are free, “When the first bird sings and the first bud opes”.  This makes the bird even more frustrated, because others are free.

3.     In the first stanza, the bird feels frustrated in the cage because he just wants to be free.  By the second stanza, he is trying to escape the cage, even to the point of making his wings bleed.  By the third stanza, the bird is crying a song of deep despair, having given up his hope for freedom.

     The effect of this progression on the reader of the poem is that the situation seems more and more intense and we feel more and more sympathy for the plight of the bird.

4.     It is clear that the poet wants to be free just like the bird.  Although we don’t know exactly why it is that the poet feels trapped or what situation he is  in, he wants to be free from something… maybe jail, maybe a relationship, maybe debt, but whatever the cause, he feels trapped.

Icarus’ Regret

“Icarus! Icarus! Listen to me!”

But the plea goes unheard, its passion in vain

Rebellion is the message of the young

Icarus its latest envoy

The laws of the gods remain unbroken

As Icarus passes the shadow of the sun

His wax dissolved, and with it his pride

Melting into an ocean of Regret

“Save me!” he shouts to all who might hear

But where is the world?

Their thoughts on their work, no time to be lost

On the soul of the innovator

So in Regret Icarus mourns

As he surely will drown

The lifeboat of Pardon

Nowhere to be found

Analyzing Blackberry Picking

“You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it”.  The rich imagery, complex diction and use of metaphor in this single quotation from Seamus Heaney’s poem Blackberry Picking cause us as readers to fall in love with harvesting this delicious fruit  - as though it was the greatest activity in all the world.

In the poet’s toolbox, the use of vocabulary and syntax can transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. In the poem’s first sentence, Heaney relies on the use of complex diction to create a much deeper experience of picking blackberries than simply stating, “blackberries will ripen if it rains”.  Rather, we are set up by sentence structure with a series of events that generate interest and lead up to an unknown climactic event:  “Late August, given the rain and sun, for a full week...”.  Thus, even before the topic of our poem is introduced, Heaney has captured our imagination.  This approach continues throughout the poem as illustrated by phrases such as “Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots”, and “Until the tinkling bottom had been covered”.

Imagery is another tool by which Heaney converts a simple process into a poetic experience.  Phrases such as “a glossy purple clot”, “the red ones inked up”, and “tinkling bottom” contribute to a mental picture of his picking party.  In stark contrast, phrases such as “rat gray fungus” and “canfuls smelt of rot” change our thoughts to imagining the results of berry picking as not so enjoyable after all. By using rich imagery, Heaney forces us to participate in the activity with him, not only in the part of the experience that is beautiful but also the part we would rather leave behind.

Yet another writer’s trick used many times by Heaney to convey his passion is the use of metaphor and simile.  Examples include the description of a blackberry as “flesh sweet like thickened wine”,  “big dark blobs burned like a plate of eyes”, and “our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s”.  In each case, Heaney helps to share with us his personal emotions by asking us to compare the process to other events we have either all experienced or can easily imagine.  This trick works, and the impression is much deeper than a literal description of picking berries.

Almost everyone has experienced the process of picking berries of some kind in their life.  For those who have fought with blackberry bushes, Heaney’s poem provides a vivid reminder of the joy and pain of the process that relies on rich imagery, metaphors, and complex diction.

The Beatbox Rap to A.P. Poetry

Yo!  Don’t got much I need to say

A little rap to make your day

Just some words to throw down

Yell it out, make a sound

So here we go – what’s the deal?

Write a poem - how you feel…

Make you laugh, make you cry

Make you ask the reason why

This junk might rhyme

Or it might…….  not

But so what?

Either way

Get back on track, it’s ok

We got “meters”, we got “feet”,

We got “att-it-ude” and beat

Metaphors, Hyperbole,

Check back in time? Allegory

As if the vocab weren’t bad enough

An alphabet to make it rough

“TP-CASTT”, now that’s got charm,

A better "rap" for a busted arm

Daily doses of sweat and tears…

“To calm our nerves, relieve our fears”

Not convinced? Wait and see

Pass or fail, it’s dubbed “AP”

Time to bail…. got more to do

Four more plays, two essays too

If I pass, I’ll spread the cheer

Ditch for now…. I’m outta here!


ehow.com/how_6672869_make-own-rap-song-online.html
myspace.com/rapup/blog/472420470
s644.photobucket.com/albums/uu167/Whitesnake1/?action=view&current=canascat-rap-tux-1871.png&sort=ascending