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What is poetry? poetry? Yamil Narchi Sadek World Literature 4th grade

Poetry

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What is poetry? A presentation for my students.

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Page 1: Poetry

What ispoetry?poetry?

Yamil Narchi SadekWorld Literature

4th grade

Page 2: Poetry

Brainstorm

Poetry is many things… then…

How do I recognize it?

Page 3: Poetry

DispositionHE IS MORE THAN A HEROby Sappho (about 610-580 B.C.)He is more than a heroHe is a god in my eyes —the man who is allowedto sit beside you — hewho listens intimatelyto the sweet murmur ofyour voice, the enticinglaughter that makes my ownheart beat fast. If I meetyou suddenly, I can’tspeak — my tongue is broken;a thin flame runs undermy skin; seeing nothing,hearing only my own earsdrumming, I drip with sweat;trembling shakes my bodyand I turn paler thandry grass. At such timesdeath isn’t far from me

HE IS MORE THAN A HEROby Sappho (about 610-580 B.C.)He is more than a heroHe is a god in my eyes —the man who is allowedto sit beside you — hewho listens intimatelyto the sweet murmur ofyour voice, the enticinglaughter that makes my ownheart beat fast. If I meetyou suddenly, I can’tspeak — my tongue is broken;a thin flame runs undermy skin; seeing nothing,hearing only my own earsdrumming, I drip with sweat;trembling shakes my bodyand I turn paler thandry grass. At such timesdeath isn’t far from me

   THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No

pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.    But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

   THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No

pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.    But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

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Page 4: Poetry

Disposition

   THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No

pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.    But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

   THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No

pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.    But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

Paragraph

… in prose.

Page 5: Poetry

Disposition PHENOMENAL WOMANby Maya Angelou

Many people wonder where my secret lies.I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model size.But when I start to tell them They think I'm telling lies.

I say It's in the reach of my arms, The span of my hips, The stride of my steps, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman, Phenomenally.

I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees.

I say It's the fire in my eyes, The flash of my teeth, The swing of my waist, The joy in my feet. I'm a woman, Phenomenally.

 PHENOMENAL WOMANby Maya Angelou

Many people wonder where my secret lies.I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model size.But when I start to tell them They think I'm telling lies.

I say It's in the reach of my arms, The span of my hips, The stride of my steps, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman, Phenomenally.

I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees.

I say It's the fire in my eyes, The flash of my teeth, The swing of my waist, The joy in my feet. I'm a woman, Phenomenally.

Stanza

Stanza

… in poetry.

Page 6: Poetry

(We will not keep them all)

7 definitions of poetry:

Page 7: Poetry

1.Poetry is an essence of beauty and truth that lies beyond, waiting to be discovered by the artist.

Page 8: Poetry

2. Poetry is an incredibly boring torture usually enjoyed only by sadistic teachers. Its mention on its own sends chills down the spine of students.

Page 9: Poetry

3. POETRY FOR DUMMIES (Timpane and Watts), first quote

“Poetry is something human beings have always done and always loved.”

Have you had a great experience with a poem?

Page 10: Poetry

• POETRY FOR DUMMIES

“Poetry is the practice of creating artworks using language.”

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4. Poetry is a genre of literature that is richer in music and meaning than the rest. Its bases are:

1. In music, rhythm, not rhyme2. In meaning, mainly metaphor and other rhetorical figures (or figures of speech)

Examples

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Page 13: Poetry

Who’s WhoI always thought nurses

Were women.

I always thought the police

Were men.

I always thought poets

Were boring,

Until I became one of them.

Benjamin Zephaniah

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5. PRENTICE HALL GLOSSARY or

MCDOUGAL LITTELL: p.1263

Page 15: Poetry

6. It is a third elaboration of language that names what cannot be named in the previous two. It is, therefore, the most literary kind of literature.

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Elaboration 1

A woman says to a man:

“I like your naked body.”

Page 17: Poetry

Elaboration 2

“I like the way I feel love when I am with your naked body. I feel that I belong and that you belong to me.”

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Elaboration 3

“Underneath your clothes

There’s an endless story,

There’s the man I love,

There’s my territory,

And all the things I deserve

For being such a good girl, honey.”

Page 19: Poetry

7. Poetry is a game about breaking all rules:

• In sound

• In sense

• In form

• In grammar

Etienne Fajardo

Page 20: Poetry

The skythe

sky was

can dy lu minous

edible spry

pinks shy lemons greens coo l choc olate s.

un der, a lo

co mo

tive s pout ing vi o lets

e. e. cummings

Page 21: Poetry
Page 22: Poetry

Real poetry doesn’t say Real poetry doesn’t say anything, it just ticks off the anything, it just ticks off the possibilities… opens all possibilities… opens all doors. You can walk through doors. You can walk through anyone that suits you. If my anyone that suits you. If my poetry aims to achieve poetry aims to achieve anything, it’s to deliver anything, it’s to deliver people from the limited ways people from the limited ways in which they see and feel. in which they see and feel.

James Douglas Morrison,

“The Lizard King”

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How was it born?

• In the origin…• What cannot be said in other words…

Page 24: Poetry

Why is it still here?

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3 steps to an effective

approach:1.1. Listen to its MUSICListen to its MUSIC2.2. Focus on its IMAGESFocus on its IMAGES3.3. Sort out its MEANINGSort out its MEANING

Does it have to do with you?Does it have to do with you?

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Conclusions

Page 27: Poetry

5 characteristics:5 characteristics (today):

1. Attentiveness2. Concentration3. Experimentation4. Originality5. Form

(POETRY FOR DUMMIES)

Page 28: Poetry

Thanks! Enjoy the

day!

Page 29: Poetry

What is a metaphor?

• It is usually a rule of 3:Relationship of 3 elements, omitting the one

in the middle:“Your eyes are skies.”

eyes- bluesky- blue

eyes-blue-sky

eyes=sky

X

Page 30: Poetry

What is a metaphor?

“Your lips are rubies.”lips- red

rubies- red

lips-red-rubies

lips=rubies

… but in some cases you might only keep one element

X