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Introduction to Poetry
OPEN
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Objectives: .
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I’m excited!
I’m feeling happy.
I am hopeful. .
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Rain on a Grave
Thomas Hardy .
Clouds spout upon her Would that I lay there
Their waters amain And she were housed here!
In ruthless disdain, - Or better, together
Her who but lately Were folded away there
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Had shivered with pain Exposed to one weather
As at touch of dishonour We both, - who would stray there
If there had lit on her When sunny the day there,
So coldly, so straightly Or evening was clear
Such arrows of rain: At the prime of the year. .
One who to shelter Soon will be growing
Her delicate head Green blades from her mound,
Would quicken and quicken And daisies be showing
Each tentative tread Like stars on the ground, .
If drops chanced to pelt her Till she form part of them -
That summertime spills Ay - the sweet heart of them,
In dust-paven rills Loved beyond measure
When thunder-clouds thicken With a child's pleasure
And birds close their bills. All her life's round. .
Dulce et Decorum Est
BY WILFRED OWEN .
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed
through sludge, If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
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Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge. And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, .
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, To children ardent for some desperate glory,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est .
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.— Pro patria mori.
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
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The Dying Child
John Clare .
He could not die when trees were green, He held his hands for daisies white,
For he loved the time too well. And then for violets blue,
His little hands, when flowers were seen, And took them all to bed at night
Were held for the bluebell, That in the green fields grew,
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As he was carried o'er the green. As childhood's sweet delight.
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DEFINING POETRY .
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The poem is not just about a .
Again, we go back to the central
specific experience; it is
question of this lesson: What is a
experience itself. It is the
poem? If a poem, according to
“moment lived” as Gemino H.
William Wordsworth, is a .
Abad would say. This means that
“spontaneous overflow of
the act of reading the poem is
feeling,” then it is easy enough to
the actual moment – that if it is
assume that all sentimental
successful, the reader also
writing is poetry. But .
undergoes not necessarily the
Wordsworth goes on to say that
affective experience internal to
poetry is “emotion recollected in
the poem (although it could), but
tranquility” meaning these
the linguistic experience such as .
feelings that one attempts to put
when Ezra Pound writes in his
into words have been processed
poem “In a Station of the Metro,”
and meditated on as represented
which you can access here:
by the word “tranquility.” .
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg
/poem/station-metro
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ELEMENTS OF POETRY .
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What exactly constitutes a
poem and what makes it
different from prose? Although
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there is such a thing as prose
poetry, the main unit of a
poem is the line.
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those who wrote in English at that time were still exploring the
possibilities of the language. The Filipino poet mixed the English
Romantic sensibility with that of local culture and context. .
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Moonlight on Manila Bay .
Fernando M. Maramag
A light, serene, ethereal glory rests
Its beams effulgent on each crestling Not always such the scene; the din of .
wave; fight
The silver touches of the moonlight wave Has swelled the murmur of the
The deep bare bosom that the breeze peaceful air;
molests; Here East and West have oft .
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from English and not merely in. Our poets are now “at home” in a
language originally not their own and have begun experimenting with
it. Note, however, that the “present” in this context is true until 1999, .
Assignment .
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1. Choose a partner. Together
with his/her, search 3 examples
of poem from Three Strains
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given by Abad.
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Assignment .
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Enter your text here .
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