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Poetry Anthology

Language Arts 5.07
by

Raven Weldon

on 13 December 2011

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Transcript of Poetry Anthology

Poetry Anthology By Raven Weldon 12/13/11 "Poetry is the universal language which the heart holds with nature and itself."
-William Hazlitt
Bad Dog By Raven Weldon
My Dog speaks Spanish
I do not
It gets quite confusing
When I tell him to sit, he blows out his snot.

I tell him to fetch
He gets in the car
I tell him to roll over
As quick as a cheetah, he eats my candy bar.
The rhyme scheme for this poem is ABCB. Animal Shelter? By Raven Weldon Every year, up to 8 million dogs and cats left behind,
Nearly half who enter never make it out.
They cry to us for help,
But we never hear their shout.

So many sacrifice their time and money to try to save,
A rescue for them struggles to be born,
Difficult as to grab a shadow
Because so many either don’t care or they look at them with scorn.
Gabby By Raven Weldon I love my super silly sister,
Who truly treasures her toys,
She has a habit of hitting those in her household,
Maybe that’s why my brother wanted a bouncing
Baby boy.

Gabby is a giggly goofy girl,
Who is a cute as a button on a baby baboon,
She’s a super smart, sassy, shrewd, little stinker,
Oh no, I think she’s ruining my really rigorously run room!

The Ground By Raven Weldon
Afraid and alone,
Scared and confused,
Loud noises, screams, then dark,
This place and horror forever are fused.

Excited before,
Everything was new,
Playing word games,
Dreaming of swimming too.

Then came the crash,
Mom’s arms circled around,
We flew through the air,
And land on the ground

Moments as long as eons,
I woke cold and in shock,
I tried to wake Mom,
She was as still as a rock.

Sirens and lights,
Headed our way,
I tried to get to the others,
Strange hands made me stay.

White walls, bright lights,
Sissy screaming in fear,
No answers for me,
From the doctors so near.

Then Papa’s arms,
Comfort I found,
I lost my daddy the day,
That I landed on the ground.

My Beach Day By Raven Weldon I love to sit on the beach,
Watching little birds run from the waves,
Manatees and dolphins, just out of reach,
I could stay here for days.

Sand touching my feet, they are on fire,
Surfers riding waves,
That couldn’t be higher,
Warm in the sun’s rays.
This poem is an example of alliteration. This poem is an example of a similie. This poem is an example of a hyperbole. A Clear Midnight By Walt Whitman This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best. Night, sleep, and the stars. The Raven By Edgar Allan Poe Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed
he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown
before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and
door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or
devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked,
upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore! The Road Not Taken By Robert Frost Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. Who Robbed the Woods By Emily Dickinson Who robbed the woods,
The trusting woods?
The unsuspecting trees
Brought out their burrs and mosses
His fantasy to please.
He scanned their trinkets, curious,
He grasped, he bore away.
What will the solemn hemlock,
What will the fir-tree say?

Dreams By Amy Lowell I do not care to talk to you although
Your speech evokes a thousand sympathies,
And all my being's silent harmonies
Wake trembling into music. When you go
It is as if some sudden, dreadful blow
Had severed all the strings with savage ease.
No, do not talk; but let us rather seize
This intimate gift of silence which we know.
Others may guess your thoughts from what you say,
As storms are guessed from clouds where darkness broods.
To me the very essence of the day
Reveals its inner purpose and its moods;
As poplars feel the rain and then straightway
Reverse their leaves and shimmer through the woods.
The Beach By Raven Weldon Walking on hot sand
Waves crashing in the deep blue
Palm trees swaying too
This poem is an example of a haiku. Lightning By Raven Weldon
Noche is lightning
When food is in the kitchen
He likes to eat trash This is an example of a haiku with a metaphor. About the Author Works Cited Page Dreams, Poem by Amy Lowell http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/amy_lowell/poems/19961 Who robbed the woods, by Emily Dickinson http://www.poetry-archive.com/d/who_robbed_the_woods.html The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-road-not-taken/ A Clear Midnight, Walt Whitman http://www.internal.org/Walt_Whitman/A_Clear_Midnight http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/poe/raven.html The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe Amy Lawrence Lowell Amy Lawrence Lowell was an American poet. She was born February 9, 1874. She died May 12, 1925 when she was 51.

Her first published collection of poetry was A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass. It appeared two years later in 1912. She wrote and published over 650 poems. Wikipedia,Amy Lowell http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amy_Lowell
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