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Year 8 introduction to poetry
Transcript of Year 8 introduction to poetry
Now it's Your Turn!
Figures of Speech
Figures of thought
Could we write a poem?
Identify as many conventions and techniques as you can:
Figures of Thought
What is NOT Poetry?
What is 'Poetry'?
Genres of text:
Simile: Comparing one thing with another using "like" or "as"
Lets use what we've come up with so far:
argues a point
"Poetry begins with a lump in the throat"
Republic City,- In a swift co-ordinated effort led by the Chief of Police yesterday, sixty officers of the vice squad led a series of searches across the city confiscating and seizing tax documents and files from Cabbage Corp, and issuing a search and arrest warrant for Mr. Chew Yong Fang, CEO of Cabbage Corp.
Evidence has been found that the manufacturing arm of Cabbage Corp has been producing weapons for a terrorist organisation known as The Equalists.
In a statement released today, Chief Bei Fong said- Continued page 2
The situation is grim. Since the rise of the Equalist movement, Sergeant Cormack and I have been tasked to investigate the logistics of their operations. From what we know, its a pretty massive organisation, even larger than the triads combined. How they’ve managed to remain hidden for so long astounds me, but I’m sure that they’re getting outside help. There is no way that such a behemoth of an operation can be sustained by individual support. Someone is funding this operation, and from the hardware used against us in previous skirmishes, these guys aren’t the run of the mill thugs and street urchins. Last night, Sergeant Cormack received an anonymous tip left on his desk, leading us to the industrial district, where Cabbage Corp. has its manufacturing plants. Somehow, I don’t feel surprised. We strike at dawn.
Be wary of the faces that you see,
Things are hidden, not always as it seems.
Within the place of industry you’ll find
Once humble merchants; sullied now by crime.
Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!
Figures of speech
Alliteration: Repetition of consonants at the beginning of words
Rhyme: Repetition of identical vowel sounds with different inital consonant sounding words.
Metaphor: Saying one thing "is" another
Chiasmus: An inversion of a sentence structure to create opposing views
"Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country."
When the going gets tough, the though gets going
Antithesis: Placing opposite clauses next to each other to create contrast
"Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven."
"Pride is not the opposite of shame, but the source.
True humility is the only antidote to shame."
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
Christina Georgina Rossetti
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Words that rhyme with:
Words that alliterate with:
Why study Poetry?
tells a story
Poetry says more, with less.
Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face
Personification: Giving non-human things human attributes
An emerald is as green as grass,
A ruby red as blood;
A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;
A flint lies in the mud.
A diamond is a brilliant stone,
To catch the world's desire;
An opal holds a fiery spark;
But a flint holds a fire.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
All the World's a Stage
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley
What is poetry?
Why study poetry?
What is 'good' poetry, and how do we identify it?
(What makes poems "good")