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Types of Poetry

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kind and types of poetry

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Types of Poetry

  1. 1. TYPES OF POETRY Prepared by : Awalia Fitrianingtyas
  2. 2. Narrative Poem  tells a story ,but may not follow the recognizable plot structure  Long narratives poems with heroic subjects are known as epics.  ballad, a short narrative with definite pattern of rhythm and rhyme.  Folk ballads / popular ballads are usually anonymous  Literary ballads are written by poets to imitate folk ballads
  3. 3. The Tuft of Flowers by Robert Frost I went to turn the grass once after one Who mowed it in the dew before the sun The dew was gone that made his blade so keen Before I came to view the leveled scene. I looked for him behind an isle of trees; I listened for his whetstone1 on the breeze. But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, And I must be, as he had been,—alone, ―As all must be,‖ I said within my heart, ―whether they work together or apart. But as I said it, swift there pass me by On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly, Seeking with memories grown dim o‘er night Some resting flower of yesterday‘s delight. And once I marked his flight go round and round, As where some flower lay withering on the ground. And then he flew as far as eye could see, And then on tremulous wing come back to me. I thought of questions that have no reply, And would have turned to toss the grass to dry; But he turned first, and led my eye to look As a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook, A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared Beside a reedy brook the scythe had barred. The mower in the dew had loved them thus, By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
  4. 4. Not yet to draw one thought of ours to him, But from sheer morning gladness at the brim. The butterfly and I had lit upon, Nevertheless, a message from the dawn, That made me hear the wakening birds around, And hear long scythe whispering to the ground, And feel a spirit kindred to my own; So that henceforth I worked no more alone; But glad with him, I worked as with his aid, And weary, sought at noon with him the shade; And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach. ―Men work together,‖ I told him from the heart, ―Whether they work together or apart.‖
  5. 5. Lyric Poem  short  personal expression of an “I”  Most lyric poems use imaginative figures of speech and musical language.  lyric poetry follows no set pattern
  6. 6. Digging Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee was levered firmly. He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep To scatter new potatoes that we picked, Loving their cool hardness in our hands. By God, the old man could handled a spade. My grandfather cut more turf in a day Than any other man on Toner’s bog. Once I carried him milk in a bottle Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up To drink it, then fell to right away Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods Over his shoulder, going down and down For the good turf. Digging. The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge Through living roots awaken in my head. But I’ve no spade to follow men like them. Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it. —Seamus Heaney, 1966
  7. 7. Dramatic Poem  type of poem that uses one of several of the techniques associated with drama.  present characters, often in tense situations, who speak to silent listeners, to themselves, or directly to the reader.  most popular forms of dramatic poetry is the dramatic monologue,
  8. 8. To James By Frank Horne Do you remember How you won That last race…? How you flung your body At the start… How you spikes Ripped the cinders In the stretch… How you catapulted Through the tape… Do you remember…? Don‘t you think I lurched with you Out of those starting holes…? Don‘t you think My sinews tightened At those first Few strides… And when you flew into the stretch Was not all my thrill Of a thousand races In your blood…? At your final drive Through the finish line Did not my shout Tell of the Triumphant ecstasy Of victory…? Live As I have thought you To run, Boy— It‘s a short dash Dig your starting holes Deep and firm Lurch out of them Into the straightaway With all the power That is in you Look straight ahead To the finish line
  9. 9. Think only of the goal Run straight Run high Run hard Save nothing And finish With an ecstatic burst That carries you Hurtling Through the tape To victory…

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