Be done through page 77 in the vocab book. There will be a quiz on Friday.
Due Dates:
Quiz Friday
Dec. 5- Read someone's poem to the class.
Dec. 12- First AR due for the 2nd MP
Dec. 14- Quiz 8
Dec. 17- Interims
Dec. 19- Read the poem you wrote to the class.
Today:
We read poems by Marc Doty in class: Fish R Us (see below) in sections 3 and 4, and At the Gym in section 1. At the Gym was pretty deep. My goal was to challenge them to find a theme in the poem, or at least the poet's observation about life.
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Form
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Sound
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Imagery
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Figurative Language
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Speaker
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Lines
Stanzas
Free Verse
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Rhyme
Internal
End
Rhythm
Beat
Meter
Repetition
Alliteration
Onomatopoeia
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Words and phrases that appeal to the senses.
Create a picture in the mind.
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Personification
Simile
Metaphor
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Voice
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How does a poet
use form, sound, imagery, figurative language, and voice to convey the theme of
the poem?
Fish R Us
by Marc Doty
by Marc Doty
Clear sac
of coppery eyebrows
suspended in amnion,
not one moving–
A Mars,
composed entirely
of single lips,
each of them gleaming–
this bag of fish
(have they actually
traveled here like this?)
bulges while they
acclimate, presumably,
to the new terms
of the big tank
at Fish R Us. Soon
they’ll swim out
into separate waters,
but for now they’re
shoulder to shoulder
in this clear and
burnished orb, each fry
about the size of this line,
too many lines for any
bronzy antique epic,
a million of them,
a billion incipient citizens
of a goldfish Beijing,
a Sao Paulo,
a Mexico City.
They seem to have sense
not to move but hang
fire, suspended, held
at just a bit of distance
(a bit is all there is), all
facing outward, eyes
(they can’t even blink)
turned toward the skin
of the sac they’re in,
this swollen polyethylene.
And though nothing’s
actually rippling but their gill,
it’s still like looking up
into falling snow,
if all the flakes
were a dull, breathing gold,
as if they were streaming
toward–not us, exactly,
but what they’ll be . . .
Perhaps they’re small enough
–live sparks, for sale
at a nickel apiece–
that one can actually
see them transpiring:
they want to swim
forward, want to
eat, want to take place.
Who’s going to know
or number or even see them all?
They pulse in their golden ball.
