Portfolio Check

I will collect portfolios on Tuesday. Here is the minimum I will look for:

1. Random Connections Exercise
2. Ode
3. Elegy (as assigned by classmates)
4. Sonnet
5. Carpe Diem/Epitaph Exercise

If I missed any major poem assignments please comment on the blog! Have a great weekend.

Sonnet Info from the Izzy, Karlamarie and Xavier

•14 lines

•Lines are 10 syllables long

The first quatrain-(four intermixed lines

 that alternatingly rhyme)

The second quatrain-(four intermixed lines

 that alternatingly rhyme)

The third quatrain-(four intermixed lines

 that alternatingly rhyme)

The couplet- Two lines at the end that

 rhyme directly with each other)

 

•The rhyme scheme is abab/cdcd/efef/gg

 

Use this info and prior knowledge to craft your poem please.

 

*Note: Please start to think about your Scholastic entries!

Poetry Forms Presentation

For this assignment, you will present a poetry form to the class. You may work in pairs. Here are the guidelines:

1. Research your poetry form
2. Find a creative way to teach the class to write in that form.
3. Your presentation should be short, but informative.
4. Include the following:

• A brief history
• Information about the form
• Contemporary context. How has the form changed over time?
• An example of the form. Please choose at least one example from The Norton Anthology of Poetry.
• Your own poem in the form provided.
• Handouts are welcome, but not mandatory. If you have a complex form like the sestina, it may be useful to provided an organizer to the class (see me for assistance on this.)

These are the forms we will look at!

ode (done in class)
elegy (Zoe/Tyshay)
villanelle (Grace/Jacob/Mitchell)
sestina (Jaymee/Aleah)

pantoum (Mathilda/Austin)
sonnet (Karlamarie/Izzi)
haiku (Grace/Jacob/Mitchell)
senryu (Grace/Jacob/Mitchell)

An Ode for Music

An Ode for Music

William Collins (1720–1759)

WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young,     While yet in early Greece she sung,     The Passions oft, to hear her shell,     Throng’d around her magic cell     Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,         5     Possest beyond the Muse’s painting,     By turns they felt the glowing mind     Disturb’d, delighted, raised, refined:     ’Till once, ’tis said, when all were fired,     Fill’d with fury, rapt, inspired,         10     From the supporting myrtles round     They snatch’d her instruments of sound,     And, as they oft had heard apart     Sweet lessons of her forceful art,     Each, for Madness ruled the hour,         15     Would prove his own expressive power.   First Fear his hand, its skill to try,   Amid the chords bewilder’d laid, And back recoil’d, he knew not why,   E’en at the sound himself had made.         20   Next Anger rush’d, his eyes on fire,   In lightnings own’d his secret stings; In one rude clash he struck the lyre   And swept with hurried hand the strings.   With woeful measures wan Despair,         25   Low sullen sounds, his grief beguiled; A solemn, strange, and mingled air,   ’Twas sad by fits, by starts ’twas wild.   But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,   What was thy delighted measure?         30 Still it whisper’d promised pleasure   And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! Still would her touch the strain prolong:   And from the rocks, the woods, the vale She call’d on Echo still through all the song;         35   And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close;   And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair;—   And longer had she sung:—but with a frown     Revenge impatient rose:         40 He threw his blood-stain’d sword in thunder down;     And with a withering look   The war-denouncing trumpet took And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne’er prophetic sounds so full of woe!         45     And ever and anon he beat     The doubling drum with furious heat; And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between,     Dejected Pity at his side     Her soul-subduing voice applied,         50   Yet still he kept his wild unalter’d mien, While each strain’d ball of sight seem’d bursting from his head. Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix’d:   Sad proof of thy distressful state! Of differing themes the veering song was mix’d;         55   And now it courted Love, now raving call’d on Hate.   With eyes up-raised, as one inspired, Pale Melancholy sat retired; And from her wild sequester’d seat, In notes by distance made more sweet,         60 Pour’d through the mellow horn her pensive soul:     And dashing soft from rocks around     Bubbling runnels join’d the sound; Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,   Or, o’er some haunted stream, with fond delay,         65     Round an holy calm diffusing,     Love of peace, and lonely musing,   In hollow murmurs died away.   But O! how alter’d was its sprightlier tone When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,         70   Her bow across her shoulder flung,   Her buskins gemm’d with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,   The hunter’s call to Faun and Dryad known! The oak-crown’d Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen,         75   Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen   Peeping from forth their alleys green: Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear;   And Sport leapt up, and seized his beechen spear.   Last came Joy’s ecstatic trial:         80 He, with viny crown advancing,   First to the lively pipe his hand addrest: But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol   Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best: They would have thought who heard the strain         85     They saw, in Tempe’s vale, her native maids     Amidst the festal-sounding shades To some unwearied minstrel dancing; While, as his flying fingers kiss’d the strings,   Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round:         90   Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound;   And he, amidst his frolic play,   As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.       O Music! sphere-descended maid,         95     Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom’s aid!     Why, goddess, why, to us denied,     Lay’st thou thy ancient lyre aside?     As in that loved Athenian bower     You learn’d an all-commanding power,         100     Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear’d!     Can well recall what then it heard.     Where is thy native simple heart     Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art?     Arise, as in that elder time,         105     Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime!     Thy wonders, in that god-like age,     Fill thy recording Sister’s page;—     ’Tis said, and I believe the tale,     Thy humblest reed could more prevail         110     Had more of strength, diviner rage,     Than all which charms this laggard age,     E’en all at once together found     Cecilia’s mingled world of sound:—     O bid our vain endeavours cease:         115     Revive the just designs of Greece:     Return in all thy simple state!     Confirm the tales her sons relate!

The Ode

Today we are discussing the ode. An ode is a poem of praise to anything. Here are some of the odes we looked at:


1. Ode for Music
2. Percy Bysshe Shelley: Ode to the West Wind
3. John Keats: To Autumn
4. Henry Timrod: Ode
5. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: The Fire of Driftwood
6. Hart Crane: from The Bridge
7. Marianne Moore: The Paper Nautilus
8. Judith Wright: Australia 1970
9. Charles Simic: Miracle Glass Co.
10. Howard Nemerov: The Blue Swallows
11. Robert Creeley: America
12. Robert Pinsky: Ode to Meaning
13. Joy Harjo: Perhaps the World Ends Here

From its origins in classical antiquity, the ode was a solemn, heroic, and elevated form. It elevated the person, the object, the occasion. In ancient times, in the Pindaric ode, athletes were praised, statesmen were applauded. Therefore the early examples of the ode are full of flatteries, exaggerations, and claims for the excellence and high standing of the subject.


The ode might have remained a static and historic form, but the Romantic movement galvanized it. Suddenly these poets, struggling with their new and volatile arrangements of the inner and outer world, discovered themselves in this form.


In the nineteenth century, the ode transited from its old heroic mode and became a form that examined and exalted lyric crisis. In this form Keats celebrated the nightingale, the Grecian urn (remember that?) and the darkening weather of Autumn. In this form also, Shelley wrote his powerful "Ode to the West Wind."


But the ode, like the pastoral and elegy, was part of convention, part of mode, and all opportunity. Modern poets have taken the spirit of the ode-- its address, its decorum-- and widened it to include a much more panoramic landscape of reference and celebration.


In the nineteenth century, when Shelley wrote "ode to the West Wind" or Keats" To Autumn," two things are obvious: The ode is no longer a ceremonial form, and the writing of the sonnet has influenced the structure of the ode.  Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind is largely made of sonnets, but Wordsworth's defining "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality" is irregular, exuberant, shifting from long lines to short, and from epigrammatic to philosophical statements.


For poets in this century, the ode was almost a lost form. Its straight-faced and unswerving elevation for objects and persons no longer seems possible in an age of lost faith and broken images. But, as in Robert Pinsky's dark and witty meditation on its power, the ode still casts a long shadow over the contemporary poet.

Adam Fitzgerald Poem to Discuss/Random Connections Writing Exercise

Poem with Accidental Memory
By Adam Fitzgerald

That we go back to life one day, the next,

Some other century where we were alive,

When music spelled itself out to us, often

Incomplete, and nothing was more vague

Than the banality of  whom to love and lose

In line, the doppelgangers in rimless snow,

Or even now, in summer, at day, by night,

When something oblivious, replete, turns

Back at us in idolatrous quiet, so we see

Who in nullified particulars we really are

At a desk of our own making, filling in for

Someone else’s life sentence, blots drying

On a silk tie having no meaning but today’s,

When the loner puts his insomnia to rest.

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Source: Poetry (January 2014).

 

 

 

Random Connections Exercise

Participants break into groups of two. Without consulting each other, one person should come up with a "Why?" The other should come up with a "because". Some of the links work beautifully. Others are bizarre, but they might work even more beautifully.

Try the exercise with if/then and I used to/but now.

Some examples:

Why do I see the things in your eyes?
Because the TV is on.

Why do I have to grow up.
Because you broke it.

I used to be afraid of the dark,
But now I can't see a thing.

I used to fall in love at the drop of a pin,
But now I sleep with my eyes open.