Students were given a poetry project to complete in one week. The project consisted of creating a newspaper blackout poem, a haiku from Haikubes, an acrostic, labeling poetic devices used in song lyrics, and imitating one poem from five collected by different poets. The students were asked to reflect on the imitation poem and the project.

1. E. L.
Ms. Knuth
5th Hour
18 Nov 2013

2. Friends help you connect
with people in quirky ways,
make someone better,
march forward, be openminded

3. A vision for the future
Switch your wild heart over
Surface her lofty feelings
Stay as the time slips

4. Numerous talents
Innovative
Keen
Intelligent
Tactful
Humorous
Artistic

5. Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh
The door slammed loud and rose up a cloud of dust on us
Footsteps follow, down through the hollow sound, torn up
repetition
Sound, rhythm
assonance
With a vision of a gentle coast sight
And you will go to Mykonos
And a sun to maybe dissipate
Shadows of the mess you made
rhythm
Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh
How did any holes in the snow-tipped pines, I find
Hatching from the seed of your thin mind, all night
repetition
Assonance, rhythm
And you will go to Mykonos
With a vision of a gentle coast
And a sun to maybe dissipate
Shadows of the mess you made
Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh

6. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
repetition
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Brother, you don't need to turn me away
I was waiting down at the ancient gate
You go wherever you go today
You go today
Assonance allusion
repetition
I remember how they took you down
rhyme
As the winter turned the meadow brown sight
You go wherever you go today
You go today
When out walking, brother, don't you forget
It ain't often that you'll ever find a friend
(You go wherever you go today
You go today) X6
assonance

7. memory
ask me to tell how it feels
remembering your mother’s face
turned to water under the white words
of the man at the shoe store. ask me,
though she tells it better than i do
not because of her charm
but because it never happened
she says,
no bully salesman swaggering,
no rage, no shame, none of it
ever happened.
i only remember buying you
your first grown up shoes
she smiles. Ask me
how it feels.
Lucille Clifton

8. Tears. by Walt Whitman
TEARS! tears! tears!
In the night, in solitude, tears;
On the white shore dripping, dripping, suck’d in by the sand;
Tears—not a star shining—all dark and desolate;
Moist tears from the eyes of a muffled head:
—O who is that ghost?—that form in the dark, with tears?
What shapeless lump is that, bent, crouch’d there on the sand?
Streaming tears—sobbing tears—throes, choked with wild cries;
O storm, embodied, rising, careering, with swift steps along
the beach;
O wild and dismal night storm, with wind! O belching and
desperate!
O shade, so sedate and decorous by day, with calm
countenance and regulated pace;
But away, at night, as you fly, none looking—O then the
unloosen’d ocean,
Of tears! tears! tears!

9. Those Winter Sundays
by Robert Hayden
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

10. Once in the 40's
by William Stafford
We were alone one night on a long
road in Montana. This was in winter, a big
night, far to the stars. We had hitched,
my wife and I, and left our ride at
a crossing to go on. Tired and cold--but
brave--we trudged along. This, we said,
was our life, watched over, allowed to go
where we wanted. We said we'd come back some
time
when we got rich. We'd leave the others and find
a night like this, whatever we had to give,
and no matter how far, to be so happy again.

11. Clearing at Dawn
The fields are chill, the sparse rain has stopped;
The colours of Spring teem on every side.
With leaping fish the blue pond is full;
With singing thrushes the green boughs droop.
The flowers of the field have dabbled their powdered
cheeks;
The mountain grasses are bent level at the waist.
By the bamboo stream the last fragment of cloud
Blown by the wind slowly scatters away.
Li Po
tr. Waley

12. Meadow at dusk
The ground is damp, the light snow has ceased;
The white of winter blinds every tree
With hollow footprints the ground is filled;
With heavy snow the branches bow
The stars of the night have colored the sky;
The wild shrubs are rounded by winter’s effect
By the birch tree the last green of fall
Covered by white slowly dies.
An imitation of Clearing at Dawn by Li Po

13. I chose “Clearing at Dawn” because I wanted to write
a poem about nature or a season. With it nearing
winter, I chose to change the poem to be about
winter. At first I found it hard because “Clearing at
Dawn” is set in the spring when there are many colors
and lots of life. Winter is an obvious contrast.
Eventually, I realized I could use the differences for
extra effect. For example:
“With singing thrushes the green boughs droop.”
“With heavy snow the branches bow”
These show the differences of the two seasons while
still referring to the same topic, which in this case is
weight on branches.

14. I have enjoyed a week of poetry. I discovered many new
poets I will now keep an eye on. My favorite from this week
is Li Po. I was disappointed I was unable to read more Emily
Dickinson but am glad I branched out. I normally prefer
poems about nature and animals, but this week I read more
poems about life, a very broad subject, and enjoyed them.
Blackout poetry is something I like to do now; I find it more
fun than reading the chaos of the world. I appreciate the
haikubes because the idea of writing a haiku without any
set topic or direction frightens me. I liked having options of
words to use, but still feeling like there was structure.
I still am confused by some poems, but I feel that everyone
is unsure of the true meaning because poetry is like art: it
can mean different things to different people at different
times. I don’t think I’ve experienced enough yet to make
sense of everything I have read.
I appreciate having a week to be creative and learn more
poetry.