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Transcript of Haiku
Forms of Poetry
Japanese poem consisting of 3 lines;
1st line has 5 syllables
2nd has 7 syllables
3rd has 5 syllables
A five-line stanza with varied meter and rhyme scheme
in which each unrhymed line has a fixed number of syllables--respectively two, four, six, eight, and two syllables
Narrative poetry is a form of poetry which tells a story, often making use of the voices of a narrator and characters as well; the entire story is usually written in metered verse. The length can vary from long or short
poetry that does not rhyme or have a regular meter.
An acrostic is a poem or other form of writing in which the first letter, syllable or word of each line, paragraph or other recurring feature in the text spells out a word or a message
a poem whose meaning is conveyed through its graphic shape or pattern
An old silent pond
A frog jumps into the pond
Splash! Silence again
loving playing, guarding
best friend of man
A Servant to Servants
I didn't make you know how glad i was
to have you come and camp here on our land
I promised myself to get down some day
and see the way you lived, but I don't know!
A short, humorous, nonsense poem.
five-line anapestic meter with a strict rhyme scheme
Anapestic-characterized by two short syllables followed by a long one
A short poem (usually no more than 50-60 lines, and often only a dozen lines long) written in a repeating stanzaic form, often designed to be set to music. Unlike a ballad, the lyric usually does not have a plot but expresses the feelings, perceptions, and thoughts of the poet
An attack on or criticism of any stupidity or vice in the form of scathing humor, or a critique of what the author sees as dangerous religious, political, moral, or social standards.
Long elaborate, stanzaic poem
Many odes are written or dedicated to a specific subject
An elaborate or unusual comparison--especially one using unlikely metaphors, simile, hyperbole, and contradiction
a sad poem or song : a poem or song that expresses sorrow for someone who is dead
a poem made up of 14 lines that rhyme in a fixed pattern
folktales or any song that tells a story.
Narrative poem consisting of quatrains of iambic tetrameter alternating with iambic trimeter
A long narrative about a serious subject
focused on dangerous journeys of a hero or demi-god who represents the cultural values of a race, nation, or religious group. The hero's success or failure will determine the fate of that people or nation
consists of thirty-one syllables arranged in five lines
The lines contain five / seven / five / seven / seven syllables
A play on two words similar in sound but different in meaning
Elizabeth it is in vain you say
“Love not” — thou sayest it in so sweet a way:
In vain those words from thee or L. E. L.
Zantippe’s talents had enforced so well:
Ah! if that language from thy heart arise,
Breathe it less gently forth — and veil thine eyes.
Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried
To cure his love — was cured of all beside —
His folly — pride — and passion — for he died.
There was an old man with a beard
who said, "it's just how I feared!
Two owls and a hen
four lards and a wren
have all but built their nests in my beard
I felt a Funeral in my Brain
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading-treading-till it seemed
That sense was breaking through-
and when they were all seated,
A service like a
Drum-kept beating-beating-till I thought
My Mind was going numb
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of lead, again,
Then Space-began to toll,
As all the Heavens were a Bell
And Being, but an Ear
And I, and Silence, some strange
Race Wrecked, solitary here-
And then a Plank in Reason broke
And I dropped down, and down
And hit a World at every plunge,
And Finished knowing-then0
Deathless Aphrodite, throned in flowers,
Daughter of Zeus, O terrible nchantress
With this sorrow, with this anguish, break my
Lady, not longer!
Hear anew the voice! O Hear and listen!
"Thou counterfeit's a bark, a sea, a wind
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
Who raging with thy tears, and they with them
Thy tempest-tossed body"
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date."
Is heard a voice which goes before her ways
and seems to sing her name with such sweet
That my mouth fears to speak what name she
and my heard trembles for the grace she weareth
While far in my soul's deep the signs astir
Speak thus: "Look well! For if thou look on
Then shalt thou see her virtue risen in Heaven."
The morning wren sings
I stand in the moonlit close
last night I made my peace
now free from all attachments
Salute the American eagle.
Though scary to quite a few folks,
He’s a very good bird, always keeping his word.
He is loyal and he never smokes.
The USA’s pride and its symbol
Majestically takes to the air.
He’s American bred from atop his bald head
To his red, white, and blue underwear.
But what if the eagle is ailing?
He no longer acts regally.
There are lots of mistakes, and each move that he makes
Is an action done ill-eaglely.
His Grace! impossible! what dead!
Of old age too, and in his bed!
And could that mighty warrior fall?
And so inglorious, after all!
Well, since he’s gone, no matter how,
The last loud trump must wake him now:
And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger,
He’d wish to sleep a little longer.
And could he be indeed so old
As by the newspapers we’re told?
Threescore, I think, is pretty high;
’Twas time in conscience he should die
This world he cumbered long enough;
He burnt his candle to the snuff;
And that’s the reason, some folks think,
He left behind so great a stink.
Behold his funeral appears,
Nor widow’s sighs, nor orphan’s tears,
Wont at such times each heart to pierce,
Attend the progress of his hearse.
But what of that, his friends may say,
He had those honours in his day.
True to his profit and his pride,
He made them weep before he died
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.