Loading presentation...

Present Remotely

Send the link below via email or IM

Copy

Present to your audience

Start remote presentation

  • Invited audience members will follow you as you navigate and present
  • People invited to a presentation do not need a Prezi account
  • This link expires 10 minutes after you close the presentation
  • A maximum of 30 users can follow your presentation
  • Learn more about this feature in our knowledge base article

Do you really want to delete this prezi?

Neither you, nor the coeditors you shared it with will be able to recover it again.

DeleteCancel

~>Jay's Poetry<~

Jessica
by

Jessica York

on 11 May 2010

Comments (0)

Please log in to add your comment.

Report abuse

Transcript of ~>Jay's Poetry<~

Double click anywhere & add an idea I like to hang out with my friends, I also like to text people. I like myspace. I like playing basketball, I like playing volleyball, an I like playing kickball. i love going out to eat with friends and family.. mostly friends. I really love music, dont know what I would do without it. :) umm.. I dont like drama at all.. or people that act like they are my friend, but arent. I hate seafood. I love orange juice. my favorite color is green, but I like blue an purple too. I hate red. My favorite kind of poetry is love an romance poetry.. I dont kno why. But yeah I love tha lake and cooking out. I hate swimming in rivers. thats pretty much it.. thanks :) It’s Funny How…
Its funny how hello is always accompanied with good-bye
Its funny how remembering good memories can make you cry
Its funny how forever never seems to really last
Its funny how much you'd lose if you forgot your past
Its funny how friends can just leave you when you're down
Its funny how when you need someone there never around
Its funny how people can change and think there so much betta
Its funny how many lies can be packed into one love letta
Its funny how people can forgive even tho they cant forget
Its funny how one night can catain of so much regret
Its funny how crazy and ironic life turns out to be
but the funniest part of all is that none of that seems funny to me

Heather Noble
Music is Life.
Music is life
Music is love
Music is joyful
Music is peaceful
Music is a journal
Music has feelings
Music has emotion
Music tells stories
Music is unpredictable
Music is exciting
Music holds memories
Music is life
Unknown artist.
Days without you--
I miss you so much day and night
I can't realize why you're gone
I just think I treat you right
but now I'm again alone

The days without you are so long
these days - without your kiss and smile
and I don't know what I've done wrong
I've been thinking of this for a while

A few questions that I need to know -
why does my heart feel so bad?
why you could ever hurt me so?
why can't I get you out of my head? ....

Now I'm standing here alone
with this weight upon my heart
wondering why you're gone
remembering our feelings from the start

In my mind I have all my memories in a range -
each moment spent with you
is unforgettable
but I can't realize what made you change
for me this is just un-get-able

I know I won't pull trough without you by my side
so baby come to me - don't run and hide
The only thing I want is to be with you
please honey - make my wish come true

Don't you know that you make my days count?
And I'm always happy when you're around
it doesn't matter what we do
as long as I'm here with YOU.

krystopher oquendo

A Friend Like You
by Author Unknown

There's lots of things
With which I'm blessed,
Tho' my life's been both Sunny and Blue,
But of all my blessings,
This one's the best:
To have a friend like you.

In times of trouble
Friends will say,
"Just ask... I'll help you through it."
But you don't wait for me to ask,
You just get up
And you do it

And I can think
Of nothing in life
That I could more wisely do,
Than know a friend,
And be a friend,
And love a friend... like you.
YOU SMILED
by Walter Savage Landor

You smiled, you spoke and I believed,
By every word and smile- deceived.

Another man would hope no more;
Nor hope I- what I hoped before.

But let not this last wish be vain;
Deceive, deceive me once again.
She Tells Her Love
by Robert Ranke Graves

She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half-words whispered low:
As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.
Life
by Paul Laurence Dunbar


A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in,
A minute to smile and an hour to weep in,
A pint of joy to a peck of trouble,
And never a laugh but the moans come double;
And that is life

A crust and a corner that love makes precious,
With a smile to warm and the tears to refresh us;
And joy seems sweeter when cares come after,
And a moan is the finest of foils for laughter;
And that is life


I Love You
by Sara Teasdale


When April bends above me
And finds me fast asleep
Dust need not keep the secret
A live heart died to keep.

When April tells the thrushes,
The meadow-larks will know,
And pipe the three words lightly
To all the winds that blow.

Above his roof the swallows,
In notes like far-blown rain,
Will tell the little sparrow
Beside his window-pane.

O sparrow, little sparrow,
When I am fast asleep,
Then tell my love the secret
That I have died to keep.


rhyme scheme apostrophe Flint

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
simile Two Sunflowers
Move in the Yellow Room.

"Ah, William, we're weary of weather,"
said the sunflowers, shining with dew.
"Our traveling habits have tired us.
Can you give us a room with a view?"

They arranged themselves at the window
and counted the steps of the sun,
and they both took root in the carpet
where the topaz tortoises run.
personification 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:
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd:
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But they eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
sonnet
by: william shakesphere metaphor free verse concrete poetry The Hypothetical Baby
While it sleeps, there is peace,
In my heart and head.
What if it should wake up in the night,
Steal my sense with its longing,
Make itself present with a tiny bit of desire?
Who will comfort it then,
Stop the wailing of a soul unfulfilled,
Keep it from feeling unloved, alone?
Better to ignore it, let it learn
There is not always room in the big bed.
It will stop crying in a while.
It always does. free verse
poetry The Raven


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."


[show]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 mortal 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 marveled 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 sad soul 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!

—Edgar Allan Poe narrative poetry JeSsIcA's PoEtRy.
Full transcript