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Ben Lineberry

on 24 September 2014

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Transcript of NAture

By.Ben Lineberry
Nature Anthology

To an Old Square Piano
Whose fingers wore your ivory keys
So thin—as tempest and tide-flow
Some pearly shell, the castaway
Of indefatigable seas
On a low shingle far away—
You will not tell, we cannot know.

Only, we know that you are come,
Full of strange ghosts melodious
The old years forget the echoes of,
From the ancient house into our home;
And you will sing of old-world love,
And of ours too, and live with us.

Sweet sounds will feed you here: our woods
Are vocal with the seawind’s breath;
Nor want they wing-borne choristers,
Nor the ocean’s organ-interludes.
—Be true beneath her hands, even hers
Who is more to me than life or death.
By. Robinson Jeffers
I decided to add this poem to my project because, I thought this poem was very peaceful and has excellent examples of metaphors. I like how he compared the ivory keys to things of nature such as seas and pearls, also really loved all the description he included.
The river is a fish
and my tongue
is white paper
you draw
your hand on
and the sounds
keys make
on the waist
of a janitor
in an empty building
on the night of your birth
when the moon was
a live bird pinned
to a girl’s chest
and the color
of a beat-up door
that hides a paint chipped
life where we lick the throats
of passing trains
and wear bright pills
over our faces
like ghost masks
and move the tiny ghosts
that live in us
like domino's.
Let’s Get Out of Here
By.Corey Zeller
I decided to add this poem to my project because I thought it was very mysterious. I felt as if there was a deeper meaning to this that I wasn't fully comprehending. It was also a good example of simile.
Tamer and Hawk
By. Thom Gunn
I thought I was so tough,
But gentled at your hands,
Cannot be quick enough
To fly for you and show
That when I go I go
At your commands.

Even in flight above
I am no longer free:
You seeled me with your love,
I am blind to other birds—
The habit of your words
Has hooded me.

As formerly, I wheel
I hover and I twist,
But only want the feel,
In my possessive thought,
Of catcher and of caught
Upon your wrist.

You but half civilize,
Taming me in this way.
Through having only eyes
For you I fear to lose,
I lose to keep, and choose
Tamer as prey.

The reason I included this poem in my project was because I thought the relationship was special between the Tamer and the Hawk. How they cared so much for each other and how they will never leave each other, and all at the same time it had great alliteration.
By. Eileen Myles
Roads around mountains
cause we can’t drive

That’s Poetry
to Me.
The reason I included this poem in my project was because I thought this poem had a very deep meaning, even though it is very short. I also think if there was more written, it would tell you what point the author was trying to get across. It is also a great example of imagery.
I looked up from my writing,
And gave a start to see,
As if rapt in my inditing,
The moon's full gaze on me.

Her meditative misty head
Was spectral in its air,
And I involuntarily said,
'What are you doing there?'

'Oh, I've been scanning pond and hole
And waterway hereabout
For the body of one with a sunken soul
Who has put his life-light out.

'Did you hear his frenzied tattle?
It was sorrow for his son
Who is slain in brutish battle,
Though he has injured none.

'And now I am curious to look
Into the blinkered mind
Of one who wants to write a book
In a world of such a kind.'

Her temper overwrought me,
And I edged to shun her view,
For I felt assured she thought me
One who should drown him too.

I Looked Up from My Writing
By. Thomas Hardy

I thought this poem had a very deep, sad meaning about someone who had died in battle. It had a very good rhyme scheme and I really liked the ending. It was a cliff hanger in a way, but also told you everything you needed to know.

The flower snakes from the cold ground.
Something once beautiful:
Disguised by the unmerciful forces of nature.
Its petals red as blood-
Smeared across each vein.
Its leaves are frail and dying.
The night sky, a dark background,
Hiding the creatures that lurk,
Suspiciously within the trees.
Its image:
Scratched, as if human kind had tried to erase it from memory.
But the image still lives,
Still breathes,
Still thrives,
Chilling me and my thoughts.
By.Danielle N. Davis
I included this poem in my project because I loved all the hyperboles. I loved how the author over exaggerated everything and made something so simple into something amazing.
If  you give money to an animal
He or she gets cloying and aggressive
But when arrested for that behavior
Says, “I didn’t know anything, my reps
Did it. Well they did. These humans
Committed their tiny crimes in the mail,” it says,
“Knowing animals are photogenic. You can hold
One in your lap or hold a sheaf of  photos
In which a feline looks like you yourself  tearing off a leg
Of a springbok antelope, which prey looks like you
Concentrating on the flee instinct,” it says.
I tend to agree with it. It and
All of them have expressions on their faces, four limbs,
Two eyes, noses, ears, etc, how close can you get to you
Or me, and then there’s the same insides. If  it is a cheetah
Do not put it in your lap. If  it’s
A black rhino it weighs 2,250 lbs.
And has two! sharp horns about 24 in. ea.!
Let’s suppose nothing about that one and not say
It has a facial expression. My own opinion
Is it will have one in a matter of time.
There are ten other scenes in which I look like the animals
In them so don’t argue I’m writing yet another check this week
And as a matter of fact I’d like to smack something,
Bite it, and cook it. You do that, tonight
For instance. If one of us eats the other
It’s a very big crime
Not tiny like the revolutionary revelation in a solicitation
That we are like the animals, no, are them,
Which is bigger in evolution and spirituality,
Sure, and in the final accounting
Much more important, but today
Don’t put a cheetah in your lap and don’t eat other humans.
By. Arthur Vogelsang
The reason I included this poem in my project was because I thought it was funny. I liked his use of sarcasm and the serious tone he used in describing the animals.
The wedding ring I took off myself,
his wife wasn’t up to it.
I brought the nurse into the room
in case he jumped or anything.
“Can we turn his head?
He looks so uncomfortable.”
She looked straight at me,
patiently waiting for it to sink in.

The snow fell.
His truck in the barn,
his boots by the door,
flagpoles empty.
It took a long time for the taxi to come.
“Where to?” he said.
“My father just died,” I said.
As if it were a destination.
Father and Daughter
By. Amanda Strand
The reason I included this poem in my project was because I thought it was very meaningful and sad. I liked how the first and second stanzas had so much going on between the two of them, but just by what the author said in the second stanza lets us know the overall outcome of the poem.
When Winter's ahead,
What can you read in November
That you read in April
When Winter's dead?

I hear the thrush, and I see
Him alone at the end of the lane
Near the bare poplar's tip,
Singing continuously.

Is it more that you know
Than that, even as in April,
So in November,
Winter is gone that must go?

Or is all your lore
Not to call November November,
And April April,
And Winter Winter—no more?

But I know the months all,
And their sweet names, April,
May and June and October,
As you call and call

I must remember
What died into April
And consider what will be born
Of a fair November;

And April I love for what
It was born of, and November
For what it will die in,
What they are and what they are not,

While you love what is kind,
What you can sing in
And love and forget in
All that's ahead and behind.

The Thrush
By.Edward Thomas
Three lovely notes he whistled, too soft to be heard
If others sang; but others never sang
In the great beech-wood all that May and June.
No one saw him: I alone could hear him
Though many listened. Was it but four years
Ago? or five? He never came again.

Oftenest when I heard him I was alone,
Nor could I ever make another hear.
La-la-la! he called, seeming far-off—
As if a cock crowed past the edge of the world,
As if the bird or I were in a dream.
Yet that he traveled through the trees and sometimes
Neared me, was plain, though somehow distant still
He sounded. All the proof is—I told men
What I had heard.

I never knew a voice,
Man, beast, or bird, better than this. I told
The naturalists; but neither had they heard
Anything like the notes that did so haunt me,
I had them clear by heart and have them still.
Four years, or five, have made no difference. Then
As now that La-la-la! was bodiless sweet:
Sad more than joyful it was, if I must say
That it was one or other, but if sad
'Twas sad only with joy too, too far off
For me to taste it. But I cannot tell
If truly never anything but fair
The days were when he sang, as now they seem.
This surely I know, that I who listened then,
Happy sometimes, sometimes suffering
A heavy body and a heavy heart,
Now straightway, if I think of it, become
Light as that bird wandering beyond my shore.
The Unknown Bird
By. Edward Tham
Particulate as ash, new year's first snow falls
upon peaked roofs, car hoods, undulant hills,
in imitation of motion that moves the way

static cascades down screens when the cable
zaps out, persistent & granular with a flicker
of legibility that dissipates before it can be

interpolated into any succession of imagery.
One hour stretches sixty minutes into a field
of white flurry: hexagonal lattices of water

molecules that accumulate in drifts too soon
strewn with sand, hewn into browning
mounds by plow blade, left to turn to slush.

By. Ravi Shankar
Speeding, without destination, after dark
torrents have poured & been returned
at home, the skies above mirror my mood,

windshield wipers knifing through sheets,
back roads slick with pooling, when a shard
of cloudlessness opens. Pulling over, cutting

the ignition, I unstitch myself from the humid
seat, still fuming, to greet a full spectrum
of color arcing past the treetops in lockstep

with its fainter inverse. Archer's bow, hem
of the sun god's coat, bridge between worlds,
reconciliation & pardon. They don't last.

Double Rainbow
By. Ravi Shankar
Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily
like a dog looking for a place to sleep in,
listen to it growling.

Think how they must look now, the mangrove keys
lying out there unresponsive to the lightning
in dark, coarse-fibred families,

where occasionally a heron may undo his head,
shake up his feathers, make an uncertain comment
when the surrounding water shines.

Think of the boulevard and the little palm trees
all stuck in rows, suddenly revealed
as fistfuls of limp fish-skeletons.

It is raining there. The boulevard
and its broken sidewalks with weeds in every crack
are relieved to be wet, the sea to be freshened.

Now the storm goes away again in a series
of small, badly lit battle-scenes,
each in "Another part of the field."

Think of someone sleeping in the bottom of a row-boat
tied to a mangrove root or the pile of a bridge;
think of him as uninjured, barely disturbed.

Little Exercise
By. Elizabeth Bishop
I watch your hands at the keyboard
Making music, one hand with a tiny jot,
A birthmark I think where finger bone
Joins palm, mark of the fish,
Living thing in search of a watering
Hole set in a walled garden,
Or in a field with all the fences torn:
Where I hear your father cry into the wind
That beats against stones in a small town
Where you were born; its cornfields
Skyward pointing, never sown, never
To be reaped, flagrant, immortal.

By. Meena Alexander
The cherry trees bend over and are shedding
On the old road where all that passed are dead,
Their petals, strewing the grass as for a wedding
This early May morn when there is none to wed.
The Cherry Trees
By. Edward Thomas
A pair of Orpingtons,
one blue, the other black,
with iridescent necks
and fine, ashen fluff
cackle through the dark,
their damp calls close enough
to chafe, a friction with no spark.

They settle down to roost,
two rests along a stave.
Each curls into itself,
comb tucked beneath a wing,
as the days grow long enough
to kindle in each a yolk,
the smallest flame of spring.
By. Devin Johnston
I put this poem in my project because I thought it was clever how the author used the different seasons. He describes how plants go away and then come back during the different months, its similar to the life cycle.
The reason I included this poem in my project was because I liked how the author made the bird out to be something amazing. How the bird was so peaceful and made him feel so great!
The reason I included this poem in my project was because I loved all the description and all the imagery in this poem. I loved how he described how snow was made, it made me feel like I was there.
The reason I included this poem in my project was because I loved how he made the storm seem so scary. He took normal everyday items and made them dangerous and almost depressing, thus giving you an amazing feeling of what the outcome was.
I Included this poem in the project because I liked how the author described the storm to be like that of a bunch of different animals. He compared a storms actions to those of an animals.
The reason I included this poem in my project was because I loved how the author made hands on a key board something so big and with such deep meaning. I liked how he pulled out the pianists past history just by looking at her hands.
The reason included this poem in my project was because I liked how simple it was. I thought it took me to a very peaceful and beautiful place.
I included this poem in my project because I thought it was very peaceful. I liked how much the animals loved each other and how much they cared for one another.

Bonus Poem*
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