10 Things I Used To Hate About English

Poetry

Figures of speech

Simile

A simile is when a poet pictures one thing as being similar to another using the words like, as and than.

Eg.    She swims like a fish

         It went faster than a speeding bullet

Here is a poem full of similes:

THE MAGNIFICENT BULL

My bull is white like the silver fish in the river,

White like the shimmering crane bird on the riverbank,

White like fresh milk!

His roar is like thunder to the Turkish cannon on the steep shore.

My bull is dark like the rain cloud in a storm.

He is like summer and winter.

Half of him is dark like the storm cloud

Half of him is light like the sunshine.

His back shines like the morning star.

His brow is red like the back of a hornbill.

His forehead is like a flag, calling the people from a distance.

He resembles the rainbow.

I will water him at the river,

With my spear I shall drive my enemies.

Let them water their herds at the well;

The river belongs to me and my bull.

Drink, my bull, form the river; I am here to guard you with my spear.

From the Dinka, Africa

 

Metaphor

A metaphor is a comparison that asks you to imagine on thing as being another. Unlike a simile, a metaphor doesn’t use the words like, as or then.

Eg.    The moon is an old, clean bone. (Judith Wright)

Here is a poem based on a single, extended metaphor:

TAKING MY PEN FOR A WALK

Tonight a took the leash off my pen.

At first it was frightened,

looked up a me with confused eyes, tongue panting,

Then I said, ‘Go on, run away,’

and pushed its head.

Still it wasn’t sure what I wanted;

it whimpered with its tail between its legs.

So I yelled, ’You’re free, why don’t you run –

you stupid pen, you should be glad.

Now get out of my sight.’

It took a few steps.

I stamped my foot and threw a stone.

Suddenly, it realised what I was saying

and began to run furiously away from me.

Julie O’Callaghan

Personification

Personification is a special kind of metaphor in which human qualities are given to non-human things

eg.    The buzzsaw grinds its teeth.

Here is a poem illustrating personification:

VEGETARIANS

Vegetarians are cruel unthinking people.

Everybody knows that carrots scream when they are grated

That a peach bleeds when torn apart.

Do you believe an orange insensitive

to thumbs gouging out its flesh?

That tomatoes spill their brains

painlessly? Potatoes, skinned alive

and boiled, the soil’s little lobsters.

Don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt

when peas are ripped from their overcoats,

the hide flayed off sprouts,

cabbage shredded, onions beheaded.

 

Throw in the towel and lay down the hoe.

Mow no more. Let my people go!

Roger McGough

Alliteration

Alliteration is the repetition of consonants, especially at the beginning of words. Some poets use alliteration to create a rhythmical or musical effect.

eg.    She sells seashell by the seashore.

Here is a poem showing alliteration:

from LONDON SNOW

When men were all asleep the snow came flying,

In large white flakes falling on the city brown,

Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,

     Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town.

Robert Bridges

Onomatopoeia

Onomatopoeia (sound words) echo the actual sounds made by people, animals, things and actions.

eg.    skirling and whirling

        flittery flutterers

Here is a poem, which is full of onomatopoeia:

BATTY FRIENDS

At dusk the bats,

flittery flutterers

Squeaking and stuttering

Twirling and turning

And skirling and whirling,

Catch all the gnats

That dance round our heads,

That whine and stab

And bite.

The itchery witchery

Blood sucking

Pests.

                                       Vera Wyse

Analysing a poem

Here is a poem called The Sounds in the Evening

 **   Onomatopoeia

 **    Simile

A, B Rhyme

 

THE SOUNDS IN THE EVENING

The sounds in the evening          A

Go all through the house,           B

The click of the clock               C

And the pick of the mouse,        B

The footsteps of people            D

Upon the top floor,                   E

The skirts of my mother            F

That brush by the door,            E

The crick in the boards,            G

And the creek of the chairs,      H

The fluttering murmurs             I

Outside on the stairs,               H

The ring of the bell,                 J

The arrival of guests,               K

The laugh of my father             L

At one of his jests,                   K

The clashing of dishes               M

As dinner goes in,                     N

The babble of voices                O

That distance makes thin,          N

The mewing of cats                   P

That seem just by my ear,         Q

The hooting of owls                   R

That can never seem near,         Q

The queer little noises              S

That no one explains…                T

Till the moon through the slats    U

Of my window-blind rains,          T

And the world of my eyes           V

And my ears melts like steam      W

As I find my pillow                    X

The world of my dream.             W

                                           By Eleanor Farjeon

 

Sonnets

The structure of the Shakespearean sonnets

* Each line is an iambic pentameter (10 syllables per line)

* The lines rhyme in quatrains, a b a b c d c d e f e f  (for the first 12 lines)

* The sonnet closes with a rhyming couplet, g g (the last 2 lines)

a

b

a        First quatrain (first 4 lines)

b

 

c

d

c        Second quatrain (second 4 lines)

d

 

e

f

e              Third quatrain (second 4 lines)   

f

turn

g       Couplet

g      

 

Here is one of Shakespeare’s sonnets:

My Mistress’ Eyes are Nothing Like the Sun

My Mistress’ Eyes are Nothing Like the Sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips’ red:

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damaskt, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

      And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

      As any she belied with false compare.

William Shakespeare

 

 

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