For the mental stimulation of the minds of my people.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Homework for Monday, May 5, 2008.
Students will find 6 poems they really connect with the following themes/subjects: History, Catalog poem, Imagination, Miracles, Just for Fun, Nature, Anything. They should choose authors from the list they have for their Poetry Project.
1. monk sogi Hito wo yume to ya omoishiruramu; sumi suteshi, sono wa kochou no yadori nite
2.edgar allen poe Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
3.Garcilaso de la Vega Soneto X
¡Oh dulces prendas, por mi mal halladas, dulces y alegres cuando Dios quería! Juntas estáis en la memoria mía, y con ella en mi muerte conjuradas.
¿Quién me dijera, cuando en las pasadas 5 horas en tanto bien por vos me vía, que me habíais de ser en algún día con tan grave dolor representadas?
Pues en un hora junto me llevastes todo el bien que por términos me distes, 10 llevadme junto el mal que me dejastes.
Si no, sospecharé que me pusistes en tantos bienes porque deseastes verme morir entre memorias tristes.
4.maya angelou A Conceit
Give me your hand.
Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
Let others have the privacy of touching words and love of loss of love.
For me Give me your hand.
5.Toris okotie y African Child So young in heart He cried for milk So poor and helpless Mama weeps in pain
His eyes so red A week he cried A month ago, To the world he came
Mama so young Papa has run Under the bridge They lay their heads
In storm and rain They search for food Through man and sex Mama fed him well
The days went by Mama health decreased Only five months old Mama said goodbye
In rain and cold He cried so loud In sun and heat He wept and wept
Three days gone by Since mama left And now he sleeps To meet with mama
6.Okema Leonard ACHOLI LAND! Okema Leonard, Uganda
Acholiland oh acholiland, The once happy mother of proud warriors, To you we wail, For redemption from the fangs of terror, The terror that bleeds us white, The terror that siphons your blood that runs in our veins,
Lambs without a shepherd we remain, Driven away from you into the darkness, Mama we yearn for an end to our misgivings, Oh! Acholiland,
Do you hear us when we call out to you? When our cries run our voices frail, When wantons hunt us, your children down, The harmony you taught us is no more, Your children have learnt the little art of unleashing terror,
Unfortunately on your very siblings, Pain is all we feel and grim is what we see, Blood is what we pay for being your children, Oh! Mother, spread your wings and redeem us, to rise and shine again.
1. I, Too, Sing America by Langston Hughes I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong.
Tomorrow, I'll be at the table When company comes. Nobody'll dare Say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," Then.
Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed--
I, too, am America.
2. Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends.
Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-- And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
3.I know why the caged bird sings by Maya Angelou A free bird leaps on the back Of the wind and floats downstream Till the current ends and dips his wing In the orange suns rays And dares to claim the sky.
But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage Can seldom see through his bars of rage His wings are clipped and his feet are tied So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill Of things unknown but longed for still And his tune is heard on the distant hill for The caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze And the trade winds soft through The sighing trees And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright Lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream His wings are clipped and his feet are tied So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with A fearful trill of things unknown But longed for still and his Tune is heard on the distant hill For the caged bird sings of freedom.
4.maya angelou A Conceit
Give me your hand.
Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
Let others have the privacy of touching words and love of loss of love.
For me Give me your hand.
5.dylan thomas Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
6.Quiet Girl by Langston Hughes I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams Were it not for your songs.
3 comments:
1. monk sogi
Hito wo yume to ya
omoishiruramu;
sumi suteshi,
sono wa kochou no
yadori nite
2.edgar allen poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
3.Garcilaso de la Vega
Soneto X
¡Oh dulces prendas, por mi mal halladas,
dulces y alegres cuando Dios quería!
Juntas estáis en la memoria mía,
y con ella en mi muerte conjuradas.
¿Quién me dijera, cuando en las pasadas 5
horas en tanto bien por vos me vía,
que me habíais de ser en algún día
con tan grave dolor representadas?
Pues en un hora junto me llevastes
todo el bien que por términos me distes, 10
llevadme junto el mal que me dejastes.
Si no, sospecharé que me pusistes
en tantos bienes porque deseastes
verme morir entre memorias tristes.
4.maya angelou
A Conceit
Give me your hand.
Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.
Let others have
the privacy of
touching words
and love of loss
of love.
For me
Give me your hand.
5.Toris okotie
y African Child
So young in heart
He cried for milk
So poor and helpless
Mama weeps in pain
His eyes so red
A week he cried
A month ago,
To the world he came
Mama so young
Papa has run
Under the bridge
They lay their heads
In storm and rain
They search for food
Through man and sex
Mama fed him well
The days went by
Mama health decreased
Only five months old
Mama said goodbye
In rain and cold
He cried so loud
In sun and heat
He wept and wept
Three days gone by
Since mama left
And now he sleeps
To meet with mama
6.Okema Leonard
ACHOLI LAND!
Okema Leonard, Uganda
Acholiland oh acholiland,
The once happy mother of proud warriors,
To you we wail,
For redemption from the fangs of terror,
The terror that bleeds us white,
The terror that siphons your blood
that runs in our veins,
Lambs without a shepherd we remain,
Driven away from you into the darkness,
Mama we yearn for an end to our misgivings,
Oh! Acholiland,
Do you hear us when we call out to you?
When our cries run our voices frail,
When wantons hunt us, your children down,
The harmony you taught us is no more,
Your children have learnt the little art of
unleashing terror,
Unfortunately on your very siblings,
Pain is all we feel and grim is what we see,
Blood is what we pay for being your children,
Oh! Mother, spread your wings and redeem
us, to rise and shine again.
1. I, Too, Sing America by Langston Hughes
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.
Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--
I, too, am America.
2. Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
3.I know why the caged bird sings by Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.
But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
4.maya angelou
A Conceit
Give me your hand.
Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.
Let others have
the privacy of
touching words
and love of loss
of love.
For me
Give me your hand.
5.dylan thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
6.Quiet Girl by Langston Hughes
I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.
Hi Bolt,
wonderful blog!
Leonard...the author of "Acholi land"
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