Claire+Elliot

= CLAIRE'S POETRY PAGE =

__Quote__
"Poetry is the doorway to the soul." -Floria

__**Ode**__
__Ocean__ Cold bejeweled surface shining in summer light Always has been and always will be, ---forever consistent in its changes. The earths pulse, ---rhythmic and yet erratic, Mood swinging ---from calm and inviting to terrifyingly dangerous. Remember the comfort in shivering storms. Remember the release of all tension from ---human stress beneath the surface of ---dark sky tear stained blankets of ice. Remember dazzling vastness and time ---stopping as it was when touched, and reaching timeless, time ends. ---and all is. Remember colorful reflections on the clear glass field ---reaching on and on past forever and into ---never reachable horizons What can be, what has been, what will ever be ---a rival to the power ---that sweeps across the world. Un-respected many do ignore the debt ---owed. I will not forget ---the cold bejeweled surfaces shining in summer light Even if i am 5 thousand miles away.

**__Iambic Pentameter__**
__My Choice: That Place For Two__ Past shadow walls that glow through all the night After waters swelling and rushing swift There is a place i know is grand and is A lovers spot for me and you to meet Below wispering trees, their soft music will lead us to that place of harmony

__Full Length Peom: This is Not Art__ Dictated poems are not my style I find it hard to stay within the rules Now i need to rhyme a word with style this is not art, but work for mindless mules

The A B A B rhythm gets boring indeed my creativity gets very drained Sub-par work though i tried hard to exceed The corney verses make me cringe, its lame

Even Though for shakespear twas a ball Times and speach have both gone through much change For me, this does not feel at all natural My pen is trapped inside this chicken range

C D C D E F E F G G True exprestion comes from true risks, which come from breaking the rules. Even the rules of Iambic pentameter.

__I Was Raised By....__
__I was Raised by the Wild.__ I was raised among wild wolves Always pulling and pushing Bitting, pawing, i learned to deffend from their attack and how to give my own howls.

I was raised in the woods I learned of the dangers and how to make my way. night is a danger and dont get lost.

I was raised by owls watchful and careful kept in the nest but now im learning to fly.


 * __My Poetry Is...__**

My poetry is generally discriptive. I dislike the use of quotes in my poetry, and usually stay metaphorical in my poetry. I would rather write with many adjectives and metaphors than actually write out exactly what I mean. It makes the reader wonder, and it makes the poems applicable to multiple situations. Saying "she stabbed me in the back" instead of "she stole my boyfriend....." means that the reader can apply it to their life. There are usually enjambments when i need a flowing feel. For example, the ode to the Ocean had multiple enjambments to give the poem itself a pulsing, and rhythmic feel.

__Robert Louis Stevenson__
The Dumb Soldier

When the grass was closely mown, Walking on the lawn alone, In the turf a hole I found, And hid a soldier underground.

Spring and daisies came apace; Grasses hid my hiding place; Grasses run like a green sea O'er the lawn up to my knee.

Under grass alone he lies, Looking up with leaden eyes, Scarlet coat and pointed gun, To the stars and to the sun.

When the grass is ripe like grain, When the scythe is stoned again, When the lawn is shaven clear, The my hole shall reappear.

I shall find him, never fear, I shall find my grenadier; But for all that's gone and come, I shall find my soldier dumb.

He has lived, a little thing, In the grassy woods of spring; Done, if he could tell me true, Just as I should like to do.

He has seen the starry hours And the springing of the flowers; And the fairy things that pass In the forests of the grass.

In the silence he has heard Talking bee and ladybird, And the butterfly has flown O'er him as he lay alone.

Not a word will he disclose, Not a word of all he knows. I must lay him on the shelf, And make up the tale myself.

The Dumb Soldier by Robert Louis Stevenson personifies a toy soldier. The four line stanzas, all of about the same length have an AABB rhyming scheme. The authors imagination of what wonders the toy saw turns the poem envious at the end, "Not a word will he disclose, / Not a word of all he knows." when the soldier won't share. Stevenson makes us think about what does happen in grass fields when we turn away and what we would make up if it were up to us to tell the tale. The Dumb Soldier feels like a children's poem because of all the end stop lines, the easy rhyming and its playfulness. Lines like "In the silence he has heard / Talking bee and ladybird," add innocence to the poem and the reader imagines this all going through the head of a child.

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Happy Thought

The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.

The short poem, Happy Thought, by Robert Louis Stevenson states that: the world is full of things to be happy about, and essentially asks why we are not. It contains two lines, each of 11 syllables with rhyming ends. The poem’s rhythm is playful and the end stop lines make it simple. Though the physical characteristics of the poem are simple, there is great depth underneath this almost childlike surface. Though it is not exactly clear who is being addressed in this poem, the reader can assumer that it is addressed to all humans because of the first lines reference to the world. In the second line, Stevenson’s use of ‘should’ makes it clear that we are not all as happy as kings. These two things together can let the poem swing two ways. It can either be taken as a positive reflection that we should all be happy, or a disappointed one, that we are not. To help determine the tone, we look at the title “Happy Thought” which makes it clear that though it did mention that we “should” be happy (and therefore perhaps are not) the poem is ment to be happy. A motivator. A short two line poem to make us think about the good things in our lives and lead to more happy thoughts.

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Love, What Is love?...

Love - what is love? A great and aching heart; Wrung hands; and silence; and long despair. Life - what is life? Upon a moorland bare To see love coming and see love depart.

The poem Love, What Is Love?... by Robert Louis Stevenson feels like a solilique. It is not addressed to anyone, and contains multiple rhetorical questions. Notice that the question marks leave us in suspense. We wonder to ourselves what love or life is for a brief moment before he gives us his definition. The subtle ABBA pattern, and even more subtle iambic pentameter flow so well that they may not be noticed in the first reading. The metaphor of an "aching heart" is followed by the visual imagery of wrung hands, silence, and long despair. Then in the third line we again have a visual image with the moorland and then a metaphorical line of love coming and departing. This metaphorical, literal, literal, metaphorical pattern matches the rhyming pattern.

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