Last week, you shared a poem by your poet aloud in class. This week, your task is to write a poem in your poet's style. You could "imitate" any or all of the following aspects of your poet's style:
- Simply write about a similar subject. If your poet liked to write about trees or growing up or guns, then you should write about the same thing.
- Steal a line from your poet and create an original poem that uses that line.
- Use the same rhyme scheme that your poet uses.
- Use a similar style of capitalization, punctuation, or line breaks.
At the end of your poem, you should explain how it reflects your poet. Good luck!
Each word, as someone once wrote, contains the universe. With a fart is the air this is not so fair. Then some friends meet some hens. Charles Wright is not so right that he runs out of a fight.
ReplyDeleteAnother Mystery
ReplyDeleteThe time I came along with my dad to Riverside.
Ah, the juicy burgers, the many TV's. But why, oh why, do they not have Cheerwine? But, then again almost nobody has Cheerwine except for that vending machine at Barracks Road Shopping Centre. The colour of that vending machine is blood-red and it has in big letters- CHEERWINE
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If you were looking to get a pet,
ReplyDeletebut you didn't have the dough,
you should go to the Gorgliporg Land,
where there is lots of snow.
The gatekeeper at Gorgliporg Land
is strict about who comes through.
Your transportation must be a purple RV,
pulled by a kayak that's blue.
Then he will check you all over to see
if you have any red, rusty rakes.
And if you do, he will see it through,
to smack you with old, rotting steaks.
And to let you through, you must pay a fee,
of a fabulous, clean, garden gnome.
And if you do not say,"Thank you", he'll get mad and spank you,
and punt you way back to your home.
Then you trek for miles upon miles,
until you finally get to a place,
where you sacrifice a skiff, by dropping it off a cliff,
and shout, "Gorgliporg, punch me in the face!"
Soon, a gorgliporg will wander up,
and punch you in face.
Then you throw at him some chai, and a-spray him in the eye,
with lots and lots of Mace.
Because of his distraction,
you should seize him by the arm.
And with a voice as soft as jagged rocks,
tell him you mean him zero harm.
Then you'll drive him home, but let him sit
right upon your lap.
And if you don't, he will be mad,
and break you with a snap.
Once you've finally gotten home,
you should make him a green, glass bed.
And care for him like you would a skunk,
or you'll be missing your needed head.
I wrote the poem using literary nonsense, like Lewis Carroll did. I forgot to put the title of this poem. It's called "How to Get a Gorgliporg".
Ian Clickner
The lemon is round
ReplyDeleteexcept for the tips
pointed like a witch's hat.
They are sour
like the bitter feeling
on a weekday morning
as the sun rises up.
Lemons become lemonade
cool, icy;
children sell it
on hot summer days.
The Reaper is giving me kills,
ReplyDeleteI am dominating the skies with predator rockets,
the ground is in destruction,
and I am about to get a Juggernaut.
Walking around,
with a ton of armor on,
if anyone comes near,
they will be dead in seconds.
already I have 7 kills,
I am about to get a Reaper once more,
one more kill,
and it starts all over again.
The previous post was Cheely's.
ReplyDeleteO captain my captain
ReplyDeletewe shall sale out to sea
O captain my captain all of us including me
have been shot and left for dead and are looking for you in plea
our time is gone and we are gone so sail on back to thee.
Hope is the thing with a moor.
ReplyDeleteI never saw it sit.
I never saw it go beyond the sea.
I know he thinks and know what he sees.
I look at him thinking what he'll be.
-CLEVE
People may say that artichokes are gross
ReplyDeletethey stick in people's teeth
they don't taste good on toast
but the thing that really kinda just hurts them the most
is that they're really hard to peel and they don't taste good on toast.
But things that people may not know
is that they're good for you
they also help you get rid of that pain in your right toe
they are very crunchy and they taste all crisp and new
the only problem is: I hate them too.
I see a old patch of melting old snow, I see the wind howling and blowing, but when I wake up, its summer , which is kind of a bummer, that there is no old patch of melting old snow.
ReplyDeleteBen Drake said...
ReplyDeleteMy dreams are dead
there are no more
i have to go and explore
for my dreams are dead
now i have to soar
up in the clouds
not that loud
but very high in the sky.
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ReplyDeletethere once was a yellow dog stinky who did the wiggly jig
ReplyDeletehe ran out of wiggles so he went to the grocery
he asked the bingbo if there were wiggles but there was only jiggles so he jiggled his way out of the grocery in a furious way
he went back home and still wanted his wiggles back so he wiggled and jiggled his way back to the slug throne, the couch until he heard a wack
it was the bombo bear at his phone the bombo bear went bombo bombo until they became friends but the yellow dog stinky never got his wiggles back