Test Prep. #2

Confessional Poetry -

(site) HERE is a great site explaining a Brief Guide to how Confessional Poetry works along with an exert from Sylvia Plath's poem "Daddy".

(poem not covered.) I found a great poem by Anna Saxton but the poem is huge so HERE is the link to the page. The page also has a great audio reading of the poem as well as bio on Anna Saxton so I thought that was worth looking at as well.

Test Prep

Epigram -

The definition given in the book is as written, "Epigrams are usually short poems, never more then a few lines long, often rhymed, and usually funny or wryly satirical. They are intended to make a sharp comment or witty observation." (pg. 778)

When I came across this word I got the definition but knew that if I heard or read one the definition would stick more. Here are two, a video and a site, that I found to be really helpful in explaining and clarifying the definition.

This video of Alexander Pope reciting one of his Epigrams he wrote.

The other site that I found to be helpful is found HERE, this site gives some really great examples and should help you out quite a bit with matching definition to the word. 

Howl Imitation

I watch the actions of my generation

I watch them, the kids I knew for years, have their whole lives ahead of them and throw it all away

I watch as the death toll rises and peoples drive to succeed drop

I watch as the minds of my generation succumb to sex, to alcohol, to drugs without a second glance at what it’s doing to them and their families.

I listen to the playful laughter as people joke about getting shit faced at bars, and even after the warnings and consoling given they still pick up their keys and think their able to drive.

I hear of another girl having a baby, I hear of another family evicted, another person filing for bankruptcy, a child who is hungry and gets only the food provided by their school.

I think to myself, ask myself again and again, how can this keep on going the way it has.

When is the next death, the next shooting going to be too much

I see the minds and bodies of my generation and see nothing potential

I see low end jobs, no education, struggles and heartbreaks.

I see, watch my generation disrespect the people who worked so hard to give everything they had to us, to stand us up when we fell, to feed us when we couldn’t do it ourselves, to kiss our fresh Band-Aid when we cut ourselves.

And what do we do in return?

We scoff at their faces, curse them as they cautiously drive, we ignore the legacy that they leave and call it shit. We ignore the fact that most of them gave up their lives to ensure our freedom. The freedom we take for granted every day.

I watch as my generation grows lazy and without thought soaks in the media around them. The media, the songs, the images that my generation knows is  wrong but does nothing about but simply pass it by as nothing wrong.

I watch my generation…

I want to see my generation be productive, to do something that changes not only their lives but the lives that had yet to come and the lives that told us right from wrong. I want to watch as my generation builds new future, builds new jobs and help rebuild the American we call home.

But…

We’ll all just have to watch and see.

Imagist

Bed

Warm downy feathers calming and protective;

A gentle hug from a loving mother.  

Sestina

Proud Koi

As I watch the fish swim

The crystal clear water flowing

The other fish play around him

The caverns and caves give them cover

The bright and vivid colors

As the light plays with their scales

The koi’s orange and white scales

Continually shine as they all swim

All the other colors

The all seem to be flowing

As I watch them beneath my cover

I only watch him

They all see him

Each and every one of their scales

Dart with one last sparkle under cover

They stop to see him swim

The fins of the great fish flowing

With his bleak and old colors

As I watch the aqua colors

Bounce around him

The jet stream around all others still flowing

Moving around the tiny scales

Of the fish who watch the koi swim

Doing their best to stay in cover

The koi never seeks cover

He barely notices the other colors

As the others swim

They swim below, around, above him

Hiding their scales

Staying in the motion of flowing

He doesn’t stay put, always flowing

I helped create cover

To help the others hid their scales

But instead of swimming they only sit watching his colors

Only thinking of him

The others do not dare swim

It’s almost like a drama flowing with each actor in dressed in different colors

Some if not most in cover all avoiding him

But still all the fishes scales will glimmer once they get the courage to swim

Unexpected Ode

Ode to Rain

Sitting I see the rain play down my window pane,

The clouds that shadow the sky

Let your heavy load gracefully fall

Let the burden you carry

Let the stress that confides you,

Let it all fall.

Let the drops become rain

Let the rain become a downpour,

Allow the storm to wash away the worries

The quenching earth,

Mother of all,

Let her take all your burdens and make new life,

Take the load off your shoulders

Make the new seed grow

Unearth all the soiled dreams

The dreams no one knew were there

Give the dark soil new life

Give the tree a place to watch

Give the rose a chance to love

Give the grass a chance to spread its soft velvet coat.

But with all things you have to go

The winds don’t stay still for long

The clouds grow lighter,

Soft and dry,

The wind plays with them as they skip across the sky

Sunlight takes your place and kisses my face

I know that you will come again

When the earth calls for you

When the soiled dreams become covered

When the clouds have had enough

You will come again.

Litany Imitation PM

You are the cat in the corner,

the milk and its saucer.
You are the warmth on my bedside

and the watchful owl at night.
You are the courageous lion,
and the protective shepherd watching her sheep.

However, you are not the bright sunrise,

the gentle whisper,
or white feather in the breeze.
And you are certainly not the quiet little church mouse.
There is just no way that you are the quiet little church mouse.

It is possible that you are the guard dog of the estate,
maybe even the crisp page in an old book,
but you are not even close
to being the wind in the oak trees.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the apple pie cooling in the window sill
nor the soothing sound of a grand piano.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the pen to the paper.

I also happen to be the rainbow after the storm,
the first snowfall of winter
and sweet smell of a spring rainfall.

I am also the paint brush on the artists canvas

and the crazy lady's cats.
But don't worry, I'm not the cat in the corner.
You are still the cat in the corner.
You will always be the cat in the corner,
not to mention the milk and--somehow—it’s saucer.

(I wrote this to my dorky cat Ruger)