Bellwrite: Explain what you created during the weekend. To what degree was it a thing of beauty? What is beauty?
Students shared the poems they played with during the weekend. We then continued our word play (poetry writing) through imitation of the following poem.
Poem
Imitation
On Turning Ten
by
Billy Collins
The whole idea of it makes me feel
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.
You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.
But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.
This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.
It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.
On (activity in present tense)
The whole idea of it makes me feel
You tell me (complete the statement),
But now I am mostly (prepositional phrase)
This is the beginning of (abstract noun), I say to myself
It seems only yesterday I used to believe
Poem
Imitation
On Turning Ten
by
Billy Collins
The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.
You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.
But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.
This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.
It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.
You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.
But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.
This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.
It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.
On (activity in present tense)
The whole idea of it makes me feel
(simile),
(add more detail to the simile)
Or (new simile)
A (metaphor)
A (metaphor)
A (metaphor).
You tell me (complete the statement),
But that is because (reason)
And (another reason).
But I can (Do what? Remember what? Feel what?).
(Explain with three concrete details/moments that illustrate).
But now I am mostly (prepositional phrase)
(Doing what? Concrete image using one of the five senses)
Back then it never (concrete verb) so (adverb)
(prepositional phrase),
And (what else?)
As it does today,
All the (metaphor).
This is the beginning of (abstract noun), I say to myself
As I (action that creates an unusual pairing).
It is time to (concrete action),
Time to (abstract action).
It seems only yesterday I used to believe
(belief that includes a metaphor).
If you (action and result, continuing the previous metaphor).
But now when I (verb) (metaphorical prepositional phrase),
I (result in terms of the metaphor). I (verb).
Homework
Play with the words in the poem you wrote during class.
Compose another poem through imitation of any of the poems in the booklet.
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