Poem Types
Read each poem carefully.
Fill in your chart as you go.
The one I love
by Noel Garcia
The one I love with all my might.
The one I'm thinking of tonight.
The one that helps me make things right.
The one I long to kiss goodnight.
The one I dream of when I sleep at night.
The one I think of when I hug my pillow tight.
The one that makes me happy when she comes into my
sight.
The one I'm not giving up without putting up a fight.
- To "The One" that changed my life.
_________ To Garbage Man
by Lemon Squeezy
My garbage man, he is the best,
I favor him above the rest.
What would we all do without him,
I do believe his name is Tim.
Tim is such a great,grand fellow,
He takes all our junk, and rotten jello.
He clears the land of all the trash,
And doesn't stop for new year's bash.
He doesn't break on Christmas day,
Nope,with his garbage truck he'll stay.
Through the thick and through the thin,
Tim will carry out our bins.
So when you see the garbage man,
Weather He be Tim or Stan,
When you give him your garbage can,
You go out shake his hand.
He deserves Our full attention,
Not to mention a good size pension.
Well garbage men I thank you,
For serving me and America too.
The___________Of
The Turkey
© G Yates
As I walked along the road one day
Kicking up stones along the way,
I saw a bird of unusual size
Who had a large beak and small, beady eyes.
He strutted about and ruffled his wings
Then he did the most ominous thing.
He let out a screech and puffed out his chest
I wanted to run from this evil pest.
As this bird's mighty exterior did appear
The inside of my chest was filled with fear.
He put one talon forward, the other one next
This troublesome bird was making me vexed.
I then did something that was a great chance.
I kicked a stone at him to stop his advance.
He then chased the stone, oh joy of great joys!
I felt myself one of the luckiest boys!
Around the corner I ran, straight to my home,
Leaving that bird confused and alone.
Don't befriend a turkey (for that's what he was)
Or he will attack you simply because.
Excerpt from The Odyssey
translated by Samuel Butler, 1897
Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he
had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit, and many were
the nations with whose manners and customs he was acquainted; moreover
he suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life and bring his men
safely home; but do what he might he could not save his men, for they
perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the Sun-god
Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever reaching home. Tell me, too,
about all these things, oh daughter of Jove, from whatsoever source you may
know them.
So now all who escaped death in battle or by shipwreck had got safely home
except Ulysses, and he, though he was longing to return to his wife and
country, was detained by the goddess Calypso, who had got him into a large
cave and wanted to marry him. But as years went by, there came a time when
the gods settled that he should go back to Ithaca; even then, however, when
he was among his own people, his troubles were not yet over; nevertheless all
the gods had now begun to pity him except Neptune, who still persecuted him
without ceasing and would not let him get home.
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! My Captain!
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
By Walt Witman
Papa’s Fishing Hole
by Elisabeth Babin
I place my tiny hand in his
as we walk to Papa’s Fishing Hole.
I hand him a wiggling night crawler
fighting for his life.
The deadly hook squishes
through the worm’s head,
and I watch the brown guts ooze out.
Papa throws the pole’s long arm back
and then forward.
The line lands in a merky spot
along the reedy shore.
Now I get to reel it in.
Nothing yet, he says.
He casts again. I reel it in.
Still nothing.
Three time’s a charm, he says.
He casts.
A strike.
We turn the crank together.
The fish jumps from the water
and his colors form a rainbow
as he arches his body above the reeds.
My Papa handles him
with the skill of a master
as I stop helping to watch him work.
A stiff jerk, a quick reel, a stiff jerk
again.
The fish doesn’t have a chance, I yell.
I know. I know. I know, he says.
How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can
reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of
all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Example # 1
An old silent pond...
A frog jumps into the pond,
splash! Silence again.
Example # 2
Autumn moonlight—
a worm digs silently
into the chestnut.
By Basho Matsuo
This Is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold