Choose a poet from the list below -- there are enough poets for everyone in the class -- and conduct a little research on that poet. Provide a biography on them and some highlights from their life. What is something that you may not have known about this person. Why is their poetry significant? Also, choose one famous poem from that poet, post it online, and share why you chose this poem. What is the poem about? How is it representative of the poet's work? Be sure to include an image of the poet as well. For this post, you do not have to respond to a classmates' response. Post your short biographies and poems by 3 p.m. in Tuesday.
Sylvia Plath
Marianne Moore
Niki Giovanni
Maya Angelou
Elizabeth Bishop
John Keats
William Shakespeare
Langston Hughes
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A.E. Housman
William Wordsworth
John Milton
John Donne
Edmund Spenser
Emily Dickinson
Robert Frost
e.e. cummings
Edgar Allen Poe
T.S. Eliot
Oscar Wilde
Emily Dickinson
ReplyDeleteEmily Dickinson is the author of many of America’s most intriguing poems, but her history and background is equally as interesting. This accomplished poet was born on December 10th, 1830 and only lived to age 55. Within this time, however, Dickinson achieved so much, including writing over 1,700 poems while living through the Civil War. Dickinson grew up in a house that was frequently used as a meeting place for “distinguished visitors”. Among these visitors was Ralph Waldo Emerson. Although it’s unlikely that he and Emily actually, met this shows how she grew up in a literature-based environment. However, growing up, Emily had to smuggle certain novels into the house to evade her strict father’s surveillance of “inappropriate” writing. While Dickinson studied a variety of subjects in Literature, and even got interested in art and music, ill health often got in the way. This became so much of a problem that her father brought her home from college. Later in life, Emily gradually became very secluded from society and led a simple life. An interesting fact about Dickinson that is evident in many of her poems is that Emily often thought of herself as a tomboy, despite doing womanly chores around the house. Dickinson’s poetry is very significant because even though she didn’t write in a consistent style, he writing about moments of great joy while she was in such frail health have captivated so many readers.
On This Wondrous Sea
On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar --
Where the storm is o'er?
In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest --
The anchors fast --
Thither I pilot thee --
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!
I chose this poem because it’s about the ocean, which I spend a lot of time by since I frequently visit Cape Cod. In this poem, Dickinson is talking to a sailor about how there’s a shore out among the vast sea where there are no storms, only peaceful waves. She seems to be luring the sailor to this peaceful shore by putting a lot of energy into the last lines of the poem: “Thither I pilot thee—Land Ho! Eternity! Ashore at last!”. It also seems that the sailor has been at sea for a very long time, since she portrays him as a sole sailor who hasn’t seen a peaceful shore in a while. This poem represents Dickinson’s works because it shows that she sometimes uses a rhyming scheme (AABCCB). In addition to emphasizing her style of writing, it also shows that she likes to write about hope (hope of finding land when all there has been are storms).
Image of Emily Dickinson:
http://www.google.com/imgres?q=Emily+Dickinson&um=1&hl=en&client=safari&sa=N&rls=en&biw=1123&bih=660&tbm=isch&tbnid=LxHvQfBm40PSdM:&imgrefurl=http://www.gradesaver.com/author/emily-dickinson/&docid=l15q3xi8MwTXOM&imgurl=http://www.gradesaver.com/file/novelAuthorImages/3775-emily-dickinson&w=327&h=425&ei=l1HKT7XHJNPG6AHz6-QQ&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=346&sig=112932384096030239309&page=1&tbnh=126&tbnw=99&start=0&ndsp=22&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0,i:139&tx=45&ty=56
http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/emilydickinson/9956
http://www.biographyonline.net/poets/emily_dickinson.html
e.e. cummings
ReplyDeleteEdward Estlin Cummings, also known as e.e. cummings was a famous poet of the 20th century. Cummings was born on October 14, 1894, and died on September 3, 1962. Cummings was born into a Unitarian family, and practiced transcendentalism. Cummings was interested in poetry since the age of eight, and wrote poems every day until age twenty-two. In 1917 Cummings joined the Ambulance Corps during World War I. It was during this time that Cummings started to become anti war, and because of this he and a friend were held in a military detention camp for three and a half months. Most of Cummings' poems were very new for the times, and he often did not capitalize letters in his poems. Many people did not like this, but it also gave Cummings many readers. Lots of Cummings' poems were sonnets, and often talked about love and nature. Although Cummings wrote about love, in his life he had a tough time with it. Cummings was divorced twice, one of the marriages only lasting nine months. Along with leaving out capitalization, he often left out all types of punctuation. He used enjambment, but instead of splitting thoughts onto two lines he put half a word on one line and the other half on another. It was this kind of work that made Cummings' works so famous. He also wrote about many controversial topics, including slavery and war. His friends tried to convince him not to write about these topics, but he did anyway. Cummings attended Harvard University and was later asked to be a guest professor there in 1952. Cummings died of a stroke in 1962 at the age of 67 in New Hampshire.
Buffalo Bill's
E.E. Cummings
Buffalo Bill's
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death
As you can see, in this poem Cummings uses little punctuation, and only capitalizes the name. This poem is talking about the controversial subject of death. There is no rhyming in this poem, but in many of his other pieces there is. I chose this poem because it was very popular, and I like how he shaped it.
Image:
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3b/E._E._Cummings_NYWTS.jpg/220px-E._E._Cummings_NYWTS.jpg
For some reason the poem didn't show up in a shape, but here is the link the one that is:
Deletehttp://unix.cc.wmich.edu/~cooneys/poems/cummings.bill.html
William Shakespeare
ReplyDeleteThough no birth records exist, church records indicate that a William Shakespeare was baptized at Holy Trinity Church in Stratford-upon-Avon on April 26, 1564. He wrote 37 plays and composing 154 sonnets, leading to world wide fame and a new variaty of sonnet named after him: the Shakespearean Sonnet. He wrote many plays, such as some popular ones like Hamlet, A Midsummer's Night's Dream, and Macbeth. He also wrote many famous poems such as All the World's a Stage, Spring in New Hampshire, and others.
All the World's a Stage:
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. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
He had many big moments in his life, but there are so many, Il be breif. He married Anne Hathaway on November 28, 1582, in Worcester, in Canterbury Province. By 1592, there is evidence William earned a living as an actor and a playwright in London and possibly had several plays produced. He wrote By the early 1590s, documents show William Shakespeare was a managing partner in the Lord Chamberlain's Men, an acting company in London.
Picture:
http://www.biography.com/imported/images/Biography/Images/Profiles/S/William-Shakespeare-194895-1-402.jpg
http://www.biography.com/people/william-shakespeare-9480323
http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/william_shakespeare/poems/1317
http://absoluteshakespeare.com/trivia/facts/facts.htm
This comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteEdgar Allen Poe
ReplyDeleteEdgar Allen Poe was born in Boston on January 19, 1809. Both of his parents died when he was three. He was then adopted by a wealthy family. When Poe was thirteen, he wrote enough poems to create a book. He had little interest in the tobacco business. He married his cousin who was not yet fourteen. It was a happy marriage even in times of poverty. After Poe’s death, Poe’s enemy, Rufus Griswold, lied about Poe and told the public that he was a drunkard with no friends and morales. Edgar Allen Poe was given a false image from what he really was. His poems were dark and depressing. His poems portrayed the darker feelings of man.
Alone
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
I chose this poem because this was one of Poe’s dark poems. It was interesting to read about the dark feelings we keep inside of us. This poem was about Poe’s childhood and how he was not as privileged as others. He was lonely and he described this feeling thoroughly.
An image of Poe. http://www.google.com/imgres?q=edgar+allan+poe%27s+poems&um=1&hl=en&client=safari&sa=N&rls=en&biw=1024&bih=843&tbm=isch&tbnid=NdUeyLH2Bxmc8M:&imgrefurl=http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/edgar-allan-poe&docid=uoGB90qL4reSSM&imgurl=http://www.poetryfoundation.org/uploads/authors/edgar-allan-poe/448x/edgar-allan-poe.jpg&w=448&h=293&ei=CNfMT6y_HM2N6QG25qWzCw&zoom=1
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ReplyDeleteNikki Giovanni was born on June 7th, 1943 in Knoxville, Tennessee, the younger of two daughters. She was close with, and largely influenced by her outspoken grandmother. She graduated with honors from Fisk University in 1967, and established Cincinnati’s first Black Arts Festival the same year. Giovanni published her first book of poems, Black Feeling, Black Talk in 1968, and within a year published her second book, Black Judgement. Her poetry books stemmed out of her responses to assassinations of figures such as Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X and Robert Kennedy. In 1969, Giovanni became a teacher at Rutgers University and gave birth to her son. In addition to writing, she offered exposure for other African-American women writers through a publishing cooperative she founded in 1970, NikTom, Ltd. Her awards are numerous: she has been named an Outstanding Woman of Tennessee, was the first recipient of the Rosa L. Parks Woman of Courage Award and been awarded the Langston Hughes Medal for poetry among other recognitions. Her books have reached top five slots on many best-seller lists. A surprising fact about Giovanni is that up until 1995, she was an avid smoker. However, she was diagnosed with lung cancer, had surgery to remove half of a lung, and quit smoking. Giovanni is described as the godmother of the spoken word movement as well as an influential force in bringing the Black Arts Movement to the mainstream. She has dedicated many years in pursuit of civil rights, and been hailed and criticized for her outspokenness.
ReplyDeleteHer poem, Choices, speaks not so much of choices she must make, but of the choices she is not allowed to make. I connect it very much to her time, and how she is trying to live in a white man’s world, when she is a black woman. She also wrote it as her father was dying, so I think that another way to interpret the poem is as an expression of when you don’t have the choices you wish you had, but you know life goes on, and how you have to push through and take the best options available. I think this poem represents her push through life to stay strong, positive, change what she can and make the very best of everything else. It represents both her personal struggles and her endeavors to better the world, which are common themes among Giovanni’s work. I chose this poem because I thought i was simplistically elegant, and could be interpreted in different ways depending on the person reading. Plus, I liked it. Here’s the poem:
if i can't do
what i want to do
then my job is to not
do what i don't want
to do
it's not the same thing
but it's the best i can
do
if i can't have
what i want then
my job is to want
what i've got
and be satisfied
that at least there
is something more
to want
since i can't go
where i need
to go then i must go
where the signs point
though always understanding
parallel movement
isn't lateral
when i can't express
what i really feel
i practice feeling
what i can express
and none of it is equal
i know
but that's why mankind
alone among the animals
learns to cry
Sylvia Plath
ReplyDeleteSylvia Plath was an American poet. She was born on October 27, 1932 and died February 11, 1963. She was born in Boston, Massachusetts and went to Smith Collage and Newnham College before she became a professional poet and writer. She married Ted Hughes, also a poet, in 1956 and they lived first in the USA and then in England. They had two children: Frieda and Nicholas. Sylvia Plath advanced confessional poetry and her best known works are: The Colussus and Other Poems and Ariel. She wrote a semi-autobiographical novel called The Bell Jar which was published just before her death. A fact that I did not know about Sylvia Plath is that in 1982, she received a Pulitzer Prize for The Collected Poems and was the first poet to receive such a prize after death.
Plath's poetry was very significant because many of her poems were written about the problems, both personal and professional, that the women of her time faced.
Mushrooms
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
I chose this poem because it was one of the first poems that we read and it is one of Plath's most famous poems. The poem is about what Sylvia Plath perceived women to be like in her time and their movement for more womens' rights. This poem clearly represents her work because this is what the majority of her her poems are about.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/e/e4/Sylvia_plath.jpg/220px-Sylvia_plath.jpg
Joe Williams
ReplyDeleteLangston Hughes was a famous black poet, born in Joplin, Missouri, who lived from 1902 to 1967. Most people know him for what he did during the Harlem Renaissance. He was also an innovator of the art form jazz poetry. He wasn’t just a poet though; he also was a columnist, novelist, playwright, and social activist. Hughes’s grandmother was one of the very first women to ever attend Oberlin College, and his grandfather helped lead the Ohio Anti-Slavery Society. Langston’s father left their family and divorced his mother and fled the country. He did this to escape the brutal racism prevalent at the time. Because Langston’s mother travelled looking for a job, he raised mainly by his grandmother. During his years living with his grandmother she gave Hughes a long-lasting sense of racial pride. After his grandmother’s death he hopped around living between family friends. Eventually Langston went back to live with his mother in Cleveland where he attended high school. In grammar school he was elected class poet. While in high school he did many things involving writing such as writing for the school newspaper, wrote short stories, edited the yearbook, and wrote dramatic plays. That is when Langston Hughes discovered his love for books. He worked many various odd jobs during his adult life. When he finally got a white collar job he soon quite to have more time for writing. Hughes ran into the poet Vachel Lindsay at hotel. Langston shared some poetry with him and he loved it so much that he wrote about Langston and soon after Hughes’ poetry started to appear in magazines. Later he attended Lincoln University and received a Bachelor of Arts. For the remainder of his life Langston lived in Harlem, it is rumored that he was a homosexual. His poetry is signifagent because it reflects his struggles as an African American living in Harlem. I chose this poem because it is one of his most famous ones and it represents his style nicely. Langston wrote short poems that did not waste any words. There was usually a lot of repetition.
Dreams by Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
http://www.biography.com/imported/images/Biography/Images/Profiles/H/Langston-Hughes-9346313-1-402.jpg
Robert Lee Frost was born on March 26, 1874, in San Francisco. His father died had bad drinking habits and died of tuberculosis in 1884, leaving the family in dire financial straits. As a child, Frost read the works of Shakespeare, Burns, and Woolworth. He developed a love for nature and the countryside. In high school, he wrote poems such as "La Noche Triste" (1890). In 1892, he entered Dartmouth College, but soon dropped out because he did not like the atmosphere of campus life. He worked many odd jobs, while continuing with poetry. In 1895, he married his high school sweetheart, Elinor Miriam White. They had six kids together: Elliot, Lesley, Carol, Irma, Marjorie, and Elinor Bettina. In 1897, he entered Harvard University but once again dropped out, due to an illness. He bought a farm in Derry, NH. He lost his son Elliot, his mother, and his daughter Elinor Bettina all in 10 years. However, he continued with his writing, and wrote "The Hyla Brook" in 1906. In 1911, he moved to England, with his wife and 4 kids. His first majorly recognized work, "A Boy's Will", was published in 1913. He continued with "North of Boston" in 1914 and "Mountain Interval" in 1916. Successes followed, with 4 Pulitzer Prizes for "New Hampshire, "Collected Poems", "A Further Ranch", and "A Witness Tree". He died on the 29th of January, 1963, in Boston. He is buried in Shaftsbury, Vermont.
ReplyDeleteFrost's most famous poem in "The Road not Taken", published in 1916.
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; 5
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, 10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15
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. 20
I picked this poem because it is about a common theme in literature and life: making choices. One cannot avoid them, and they shape our decisions can shape our whole lives. Frost talks about how he followed a path that was risky, yet came away with successful results. While on the journey, he looked back and wished he had chose the other road, but he stuck with it. As he recounts this, he himself cannot believe how he was so successful. This perfectly mirrors Frost's struggles as a poet, a very risky occupation, but which eventually led him to fame and fortune.
E. E. Cummings, short for Edward Estlin, lived between 1894-1962. Many people know him as a war poet. He spent much of WWI as an ambulance driver. During this period he expressed a lack of animosity towards the German forces, and was imprisoned with one a friend for espionage. His experiences as an ambulance driver and as a prisoner were the basis for many of his poems, essays, and drawings. Cummings was brought up in a unitarian and transcendentalist family. These beliefs were a constant influence throughout his works. In the poem I chose, i carry your heart with me, he references trees, buds, and roots, the naturalist ideas peeking through.
ReplyDelete“i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”
I chose this poem because it is one I am familiar with and it is one of his famous poems about one of life’s elements, love. It is also a poem which is singular to e. e. cummings in its composition. The lack of standard grammar and punctuation is one of cummings signatures as well as the already mentioned transcendentalism. A little more on his life, before he was actually assigned to an ambulance he spent some time in Paris due to an internal military mistake. This time had a deep influence on the rest of his writing and life. He visited several times and even lived there for several year in his later life. One of my personal favorite E. E. Cummings quotes is “it takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”
Picture: http://www.thefamouspeople.com/profiles/images/e-e-cummings.jpg
Edgar Allan Poe was an american author, poet, editor, and critic, who lived in the early 1800’s. Poe was born as Edgar Poe in January of 1809. He was the middle child of Elizabeth Arnold Hopkins Poe and David Poe Jr. His father abandoned his family when he was only a year old and his mother died a year later. Poe was then sent to live with a merchant named John Allan and eventually took the name Alan. When Poe was eighteen he joined the army as Edgar A. Perry and claimed that he was 22 years old and that year he released his first book. Once his older brother died Poe dedicated his life to his career in literature and was the first well known american author to try to live on writing alone. Poe then married his 13 year old cousin and was successful in his writing pursuits even though he constantly struggled with money and alcoholism especially after the death of his wife. Poe died at the age of 40 after being found on the streets of Baltimore wearing another man's clothes. He was so delirious he could not explain how he came to be in this condition and was said to call out the name Reynolds the night before he died. Some sources say that his last words were “Lord help my poor soul.”
ReplyDeleteIt was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
This poem is entitled Annabel Lee. It is the last complete poem ever written by Poe. Like many of his poems it focuses on the death of a woman . In this poem the woman marries young and then is struck with illness much like his wife in real life. Unlike some of Poe’s darker works such as The Raven which was written right after the death of his wife where he believes that they will “nevermore” see each other, in Annabel Lee He speaks of how they will be together again.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/fb/Edgar_Allan_Poe_portrait_B.jpg/220px-Edgar_Allan_Poe_portrait_B.jpg
DeleteThomas Stearns Eliot was born in Missouri on September 26, 1888. He lived in St. Louis during the first eighteen years of his life and attended Harvard University. In 1910, he left the United States after earning undergraduate and master’s degrees. After a year in Paris, he went back to Harvard to get a doctorate in philosophy However, he returned to Europe and settled in England in 1914. The following year, he married Vivienne Haigh-Wood and began working in London, first as a teacher and later for Lloyd's Bank. Eliot met Ezra Pound in London, who helped Eliot publish his work in multiple magazines, especially "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in Poetry in 1915. His first book of poems, Prufrock and Other Observations, was published in 1917. Eliot’s reputation grew after he published The Waste Land in 1922. He became a British citizen in 1927. By 1930, and for the next thirty years, he was a dominant figure in poetry. He published many younger poets through the publishing house of Faber and Faber, and eventually became director of the firm. After an unhappy first marriage, Eliot divorced his wife in 1933, and he remarried Valerie Fletcher in 1956. T. S. Eliot received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1948 and died in London in 1965.
ReplyDeleteAunt Helen
Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt,
And lived in a small house near a fashionable square
Cared for by servants to the number of four.
Now when she died there was silence in heaven
And silence at her end of the street.
The shutters were drawn and the undertaker wiped his feet--
He was aware that this sort of thing had occurred before.
The dogs were handsomely provided for,
But shortly afterwards the parrot died too.
The Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantelpiece,
And the footman sat upon the dining-table
Holding the second housemaid on his knees--
Who had always been so careful while her mistress lived.
I chose this poem because it comes from Prufrock and Other Observations, which was Eliot's first book of poems. Also, the poem represents Eliot's writing style pretty well; it has no obvious rhyme scheme or pattern, like many of his other works. The poem is about the death of Eliot's aunt, and the results after she died. Her death brought silence, and the people nearest to her were affected strongly.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/26/Thomas_Stearns_Eliot_by_Lady_Ottoline_Morrell_(1934).jpg/220px-Thomas_Stearns_Eliot_by_Lady_Ottoline_Morrell_(1934).jpg
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ReplyDeleteMaya Angelou was born on April 4, 1928 in St. Louis Missouri and later moved to Stamps, Arkansas; where she experienced head front much of the racial discrimination that was rattling the country. However, these experiences, along with her deep rooted faith, values, community, and culture instilled by her family made her the strong activist and poet she is today. In her teen years, her love of the arts drove her to take up dance and drama at San Francisco Tabor School. However, she dropped out at 14 to become the first female cable car driver in San Francisco. When finishing high school, a few weeks after graduation, gave birth to a son. To obtain the money to care for her son, she worked as a waitress and cook. She once again took up her love of acting when touring Europe for the productions of “Porgy and Bess” in 1954-1955, then studying modern dance, danced on a number of TV shows and recorded her first album, “Calypso Lady” in 1957. Then in 1958 she joined the Harlem Writers Guild in New York and performed and wrote in a number of plays. Maya then spent a few years abroad in Egypt and Ghana, teaching, writing, activist work, and mastering a number of languages. Upon returning to the States, she met and worked as a colleague to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, whom’s assassination left her deeply saddened. In 1970, she published her book “I know Why the Caged Bird Sings”, which was enormously popular and brought international acclaim. Two years later, she was the first African American woman to have her screenplay filmed. As said in her biography “Dr. Maya Angelou is one of the most renowned and influential voices of out time. Hailed as a global renaissance woman, Dr. Angelou is a celebrated poet, memoirist, novelist, dramatist, producer, actress, historian, filmmaker, and civil rights activist”.
ReplyDeleteYou may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom? '
Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Maya Angelou
I chose Still I Rise because I feel it represents the core values that I respect so much from Maya Angelou’s poetry. Her tremendous pride: in herself and her people indicated with each line shows herself able to overcome her own hurtles with prejudice, both as a woman and African-American. Rather than waiting for her dream to come true- Angelou evidently makes it happen. The strong sense of self creates the feeling in the reader of admiration rather than pity for such struggles. However, the real beauty in this poem for me was the fact that it was applicable to anyone. Her words encourage others to rise above their less than ideal situations with the courage and bravery that her words create.
http://www.google.com/imgres?q=overcoming+struggle&hl=en&client=safari&sa=X&rls=en&biw=1024&bih=865&tbm=isch&tbnid=uhzMsRAZ4wmEvM:&imgrefurl=http://www.forbes.com/special-report/2011/growth-lessons-11.html&docid=Nn_0BAAJYlyhLM&imgurl=http://images.forbes.com/media/2011/09/28/growth-lessons-overcoming-struggle.png&w=320&h=416&ei=W3zNT8eoFajU6QH2gO2yAw&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=99&vpy=130&dur=8436&hovh=256&hovw=197&tx=72&ty=82&sig=114171140978477024298&page=1&tbnh=157&tbnw=115&start=0&ndsp=17&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:0,i:71
DeleteRobert frost was a very sad poet. At 11 years old, his father died form tuberculosis. His mother died from cancer when he was in his late twenties and in his forties he had to put his younger sister into a mental hospital. Frost suffered from depression and so did his wife Elinor and daughter Irma.
ReplyDeleteHis first poem he sold was "My Butterfly. An Elegy" for $15 in 1894. He attended Dartmouth College and went to the Theta Delta Chi frat. He had several jobs including teaching, delivering news papers, and factory work until he found out he really wanted to be a poet. His grandfather purchased a farm shortly before his death and Robert went to live there and raise his family. While there, he would write famous poems in the morning and night and work in the fields by day. After this stage in his life he spent most of his time teaching. He taught as an English professor at Pinkerton, Plymouth State, Amherst, Middlebury, and Ann Arbor. He was so well respected he even wrote a poem for President Kennedy's inauguration in 1961. One thing I never knew about him was how many degrees (most are honorary) he got from respected schools. He has one from Harvard, one from Princeton, one from Oxford, one from Cambridge, two from Dartmouth, and those are just 6/40 of them.
He mainly focused his writing on a subject of the landscape of New England and his life there. He had a traditional verse writing style. His poetry was so significant because it was very well-known and respected, along with it's ideals of nature and life. Here's my favorite poem by him entitled "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
BY ROBERT FROST
This poem is about going to a house in the middle of winter and taking your horse to get there. I like this poem because it's not any rhyme pattern I have ever seen, AABA BBCB CCDC DDDD. I also really enjoy the content of it. It is all about the frozen tundra I know too well. I think it's really cool how Robert Frost used to live in Hanover. He knows the winters that I know.
This is a picture of him near the Dartmouth lookout tower, it can be found near the bema on a trail near the Dartmouth observatory and the picture below is one of him at Dartmouth in 1947.
http://www.google.com/imgres?um=1&hl=en&safe=off&sa=N&biw=732&bih=644&tbm=isch&tbnid=sX7-f83ofvP9GM:&imgrefurl=http://publicheart.wordpress.com/2008/12/19/robert-frost/&docid=zPWrpS7YIltq0M&imgurl=http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1345/1325018161_2735824a38.jpg&w=333&h=500&ei=6oLNT8uCI-P16AGwrKxj&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=225&vpy=106&dur=1207&hovh=275&hovw=183&tx=116&ty=119&sig=105021116415268921558&page=1&tbnh=128&tbnw=97&start=0&ndsp=13&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:0,i:75
http://www.google.com/imgres?um=1&hl=en&safe=off&biw=732&bih=644&tbm=isch&tbnid=RpTSzWqwELTvXM:&imgrefurl=http://www.dartmouth.edu/~vox/0708/0303/frost.html&docid=7IGAF61Yehm61M&imgurl=http://www.dartmouth.edu/~vox/0708/0303/images/Frost-cover.jpg&w=225&h=250&ei=Q4PNT8qfKu316AHDkqER&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=269&vpy=146&dur=2328&hovh=200&hovw=180&tx=84&ty=146&sig=105021116415268921558&page=1&tbnh=93&tbnw=84&start=0&ndsp=12&ved=1t:429,r:1,s:0,i:73
Robert Frost
ReplyDeleteRobert Frost was born on March 26, 1874 in San Francisco, CA. His family moved to New England in 1885, and he became interested in reading and writing poetry during high school. He never earned a formal college degree, but enrolled at Dartmouth in 1892 and later attended Harvard. Frost's first professional poem, “My Butterfly” was published on November 8, 1894 in the New York paper Independent. A year later in 1895, he married Elinor Miriam White. Until her death in 1938, she was a major influence on her husband's poetry. After the couple's New Hampshire farm failed in 1912, they moved to England. During these travels, Frost met and was influenced by several contemporary British poets such as Edward Thomas, Rupert Brooke, Robert Graves, and Ezra Pound. While in England, Frost published two full-length collections of poems, A Boy's Will (1913) and North of Boston (1914). After returning to the United States in 1915, Frost continued writing. By the 1920's he was the most celebrated poet in America. Some of his most well-known collections published after his return are New Hampshire (1923), A Further Range (1936), Steeple Bush (1947), and In the Clearing (1962), however there were at least six others. Most of Frost's work had to do with the life and landscape of New England. He used traditional verse forms and metrics and remained aloof from the many poetic movements and fashions during his lifetime. Robert Frost lived to be 88 years old, and died in Boston on January 29, 1963.
TAKE SOMETHING LIKE A STAR
By Robert Frost
O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud—
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Some mystery becomes the proud.
But to be wholly taciturn
In your reserve is not allowed.
Say something to us we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat.
Say something! And it says, “I burn.”
But say with what degree of heat.
Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.
Use language we can comprehend.
Tell us what elements you blend.
It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
As steadfast as Keats' Eremite,
Not even stooping from its sphere,
It asks a little of us here.
It asks of us a certain height,
So when at times the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame to far,
We may take something like a star
To stay our minds on and be staid.
I chose this poem because I share Frost's feelings about the stars. I love going out at night and just looking at them. I think this poem represents Frost' writing style well, even though it is not one of his most famous. He loved to write about nature, but his poems often had a deeper sense. “Say something to us we can learn/By heart and when alone repeat./Say something! And it says, “I burn.”/But say with what degree of heat./Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade./Use language we can comprehend./Tell us what elements you blend” (9-15). Through this personification and dialogue with the star, Frost is telling us that the stars are a mystery that will never be fully understood. Many of his poems have a more philosophical meaning if read critically. Frost wrote many poems, and of all kinds. Some are only a couple lines long, others go on for pages. The line length isn't the same for all of his poems either. Sometimes there are stanzas, or sometimes it is all written together, like this poem. Due to his varying layout, most of his poems have unique rhyming schemes. For example, this poem has one that I've never seen anywhere else: AABAAB, CBCDCD, EFFEF, AGGA, EHHE. As I was looking through a book of his poetry however, I saw that mostly all of his poems rhyme is some way.
Source:
http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/192
Picture:
Deletehttp://images.google.com/imgres?q=robert+frost&hl=en&biw=1282&bih=819&gbv=2&tbm=isch&tbnid=EoML0Fm4rrvvUM:&imgrefurl=http://www.gpaulbishop.com/GPB%2520History/GPB%2520Archive/Section%2520-%25202/R.%2520Frost/r__frost.htm&docid=iRc6c7-85EDpmM&imgurl=http://www.gpaulbishop.com/GPB%252520History/GPB%252520Archive/Section%252520-%2525202/R.%252520Frost/frost_r_01.JPG&w=450&h=641&ei=lPjNT5yYM8mX6QGjvt2EDA&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=828&vpy=283&dur=767&hovh=268&hovw=188&tx=102&ty=163&sig=116630940035705246852&page=1&tbnh=146&tbnw=106&start=0&ndsp=32&ved=1t:429,r:13,s:0,i:166
John Milton was born on December 9, 1608, in London, to a well to do family. His father was a lawyer/banker of sorts who enjoyed composing music, a love that he passed down to his son. Milton was well educated due to his family’s wealthy background. In 1626 he was suspended from school for arguing with one of his teachers. Milton graduated from Cambridge University in 1632. Before settling down in London, Milton went on a tour of Europe where he met Galileo, and several other esteemed scientists and writers. John Milton was wed to Mary Powell, but the relationship did not work out and she left him. After this incident, Milton penned a tome called Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce, which enraged many people, especially religious figures. Strangely, Milton and Powell remarried later and had three daughters. In 1652 Milton became blind, inspiring him to write When I consider How My Light is Spent. 1652 is also the year when Mary Powell died. Milton wrote his masterpiece, Paradise Lost between 1663 and 1667. It quickly became a very popular work, which survives to this day as one of history’s classic works of poetry. John Milton died in 1674.
ReplyDeleteParadise Lost is considered the greatest epic poem ever written in English, but it’s not the only reason why John Milton was an important poet. Milton was a very active political figure, and part of General Cromwell’s anti-royalist part during the English Civil War. Milton supported the execution of Charles I in his writing. He espoused democratic, anti-monarchial themes in his work. Before researching him, I was unaware that Milton was such an important revolutionary figure in England.
When I Consider How My Light is Spent
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or His own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."
I chose this poem because it is a moving example of perseverance in the face of adversity. Milton worries that his inability to see will prevent him from serving God, in other words, he feels that he is useless. But then Milton realizes that God’s most useful servants are the ones who persevere and live through their problems as best they can. Milton learns that his disability does not make him useless, and that he can still serve God. When I Consider How My Light is spent is an inspiring poem that encourages people, even those of us with large crosses to bear, to not be disheartened and to realize that we are still able to help and serve other, despite our shortcomings.
Bibliography
http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/milton/miltonbio.htm
http://www.shmoop.com/consider-light-spent-blindness/lines-8-14-summary.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_milton
PICTURE: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:John-milton.jpg
William Wordsworth was born April 7, 1770, in Cockermouth Cumberland. He was the second of five children. He was very well off as a child. He father was a legal representative of James Lowther, 1st Earl of Lonsdale. Through his father's connections William grew up in a mansion in a little town. All five kids were very distant from his father because of his job. When William's mother died in 1778, his father sent him to Hawkshead Grammer School. This was his first schooling. After graduating from the school he attended Cambridge University. He graduated with a B.A. degree in 1791. When all five children were grown up Richard the oldest son became a lawyer, William and Dorothy both became poets and writers, John died at sea sailing around the southern coast of England, and Charles entered the church.
ReplyDeleteA Character
I marvel how Nature could ever find space
For so many strange contrasts in one human face:
There's thought and no thought, and there's paleness and bloom
And bustle and sluggishness, pleasure and gloom.
There's weakness, and strength both redundant and vain;
Such strength as, if ever affliction and pain
Could pierce through a temper that's soft to disease,
Would be rational peace--a philosopher's ease.
There's indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds,
And attention full ten times as much as there needs;
Pride where there's no envy, there's so much of joy;
And mildness, and spirit both forward and coy.
There's freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare
Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she's there,
There's virtue, the title it surely may claim,
Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name.
This picture from nature may seem to depart,
Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart;
And I for five centuries right gladly would be
Such an odd such a kind happy creature as he.
I chose this poem because I feel its meaning has several different meanings. One meaning I see is he is talking about how great nature is, and how he marvels about it. The bigger picture I believe is that he is talking about how nature comes up over all the adversity it takes. It gets torn down, completely destroyed, things die from age or disease. He states "Such strength as, if ever affliction and pain Could pierce through a temper that's soft to disease,..." I feel this is about how much pain nature suffers, it keeps a solid head and doesn't let it put it down.
Sam Hastings
ReplyDelete6/4/12
Piro
English
T.S. Eliot
T.S. Elliot was a poet who wrote a very small amount of poetry compared to poets of similar popularity. He was born an American but moved to the U.K. in 1927 and he never came back. His poetry is often very lengthy, however he rarely wrote more than two to three poems in a whole year. He once wrote a letter to one of the profesors he had, had at Harvard remarking on the fact and explained that because of this he had to make sure that every poem he wrote was just so, therefore every poem he wrote was a big deal because of how few there were and the quality of them. One Eliot’s most famous poems was called “A Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” it is lengthy and extremely well written.
Let us go then, you and I,
DeleteWhen the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . . 10
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all;
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
ReplyDeleteAnd watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet–and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say, "That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all."
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all." 110
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old . . . I grow old . . . 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
As is famous of Eliot’s style, his poems are extremely lengthy but if you take the time to read the whole thing you will find it extremely well written and the figurative language is unmatched in anything that I have seen before. This Poem was written in 1915, while Elliot was still an American. Eliot is an extremely successful poet and I would highly recommend reading more from him.
ReplyDeletePicture
ReplyDeletehttp://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/26/Thomas_Stearns_Eliot_by_Lady_Ottoline_Morrell_(1934).jpg/220px-Thomas_Stearns_Eliot_by_Lady_Ottoline_Morrell_(1934).jpg
Tristan Rollins
ReplyDeletePiro
http://www.google.com/imgres?q=maya+angelou&um=1&hl=en&client=safari&sa=N&rls=en&biw=1597&bih=843&tbm=isch&tbnid=t-s7w397VmakNM:&imgrefurl=http://www.achievement.org/autodoc/page/ang0bio-1&docid=b4tOkF3FFgxr0M&imgurl=http://www.achievement.org/achievers/ang0/photos/ang0-003a.gif&w=223&h=300&ei=ZFLOT6P0CIn56QGcv-yODA&zoom=1