English II Honors - Assignment #4 Plath

Hey guys!

Already we have completed exercises on poetry analysis, Langston Hughes/Harlem Renaissance, ee cummings, and now we will complete a final exercise on Sylvia Plath. While it may seem I have chosen each of the poets at random, I have chosen each for a specific reason, as follows:

Smith/Lindsay - Two personal favorites, plus an introduction to poem analysis
Langston Hughes - Poetry that relates to a literary movement (Harlem Renaissance)
ee cummings - Poetry that experiments in style and form (syntax and punctuation)
Sylvia Plath - Poetry that that belongs in a subgenre (confessional poetry)

It is important to understand that poetry does not exist in a vacuum; it comes from somewhere, relates to something, was written by someone, and has something important to say even if the only thing of importance is that the poem does not consider itself important.

SYLVIA PLATH

1. Sylvia Plath helped begin a style of poetry referred to as 'confessional poetry'. Read more about the movement here:
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5650

2. Read Sylvia Plath's biography here:
http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/11

3. Read her stunning, emotional poem 'Daddy' here:
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15291

...and watch and listen to it here:
http://www.learner.org/catalog/extras/vvspot/video/plath.html

4. Find another confessional poet you like and post a 250-word response in which you do the following:

-Spend 100 words discussing 'Daddy' and your impression of Plath and her poetry.
- Spend the additional 150 introducing your confessional poet, including a poem you have chosen and your analysis of it.


Please do not get stressed out that this exercise is already posted - it will not be due until Wednesday next week. This will be the final exercise in this unit - the remainder of the time will be spent working on poetry notebooks. NOTEBOOKS WILL BE DUE MONDAY, MARCH 9...that will also be the day we do the coffee shop performance/reading.

Good luck!
Mr. Parsons
English II Honors

English II Honors - My Poetry...for You

Hey guys!

I thought it would only be fair, considering that I have asked you to share so much of your writing with me, that I shared some of my writing with you. These poems do not require you to do anything other than read and enjoy -there will be no assessment. However, feel free to leave comments - they would be greatly appreciated, either positive or negative.

Thanks,
B. Parsons
English II Honors


Sunset Memorial
(For Cindy)

At length, the sun's glance on the hills,
had broken into mysterious hues.
The stark, amber trees echo'd of birds' trills,
and the Ohio waters moped in browns and blues,
for the earth had come to pay its dues.
The sombre mood was set by the dying rays,
and the sun had crested; bearing a dying haze.


On My Neck

I pulled out Dad's dogtags today
uncoiling them, marveling at the shapes
the real deal, olive drab to hide the glint
from an opportunistic Viet sniper.

Battle-scarred, they dangle in my hands.

AUST
45301
PARSONS RW
ANG
A POS

Words embossed into the metal
two tags, one chain, one man
they make the dead easier to catalog.

I think about them, dangling around his neck
knee deep in danger, back against a tree
breathing hard as Viet bullets hailed in.

The tags don't say he was 17.

17, but young enough to don a slouch hat
take a position, fight for his country.

When I was young, I used to play G.I. Joe
I was mad when he wouldn't let me wear them.

He told me, "One day you will have them when I am gone."


Merely Players
(For the Cincinnati Shakespeare Company)

I adore the humble stage,
provided so intimate and honest;
the mind is rarely enough engaged,
that when free from its cage,
the world, I hope, has promise.



Who wouldn't to dream of such things,
and lovingly craft their making?

Instead of sitting idly by,
allowing unborn dreams to die-

You perform. And the world lies, waiting.


Breaking Down
(For Misty Hydrick)

There ain't much money, left in this town
Barely enough for the rich to pass around.
The streets are in tatters, the trees are all dead
Won't be too long, 'til this comes to a head.

A cruiser rolls up, in the old neighborhood,
"Damn them kids, they up to no good!"
A drug deal goes down, a wife gets beat,
And the lil.. boys and girls hears it all from the street.

The street are all dyin', their faces are weary,
Black iron dust, streak..d all acid-rain teary.
The young children watch, as the little town decays,
Wonder'n if all this, gonna be there's some day.


Taste of Trees

Donc a hom dreg en Amor? No,
mas cujarion-s'o li fol.

The heart moves in shapes,
chasing endless parallels
with you
the discontented spirits
bound at the hands, watch
and envy.

English II Honors - Assignment #3 The Wonderful e.e.

One of the most inventive poets I have ever been exposed to is the great e.e. cummings. Read a biography on e.e. cummings at the link below, followed by a reading of the three poems that follow. Then write a 100-word response in which you comment about the characteristics of his style and your feelings about the poetry.

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/156

i carry your heart with me
by E. E. Cummings

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)

anyone lived in a pretty how town
by E. E. Cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain


if you like my poems let them
by E. E. Cummings
if you like my poems let them
walk in the evening,a little behind you

then people will say
"Along this road i saw a princess pass
on her way to meet her lover(it was
toward nightfall)with tall and ignorant servants."