8th Grade Poems

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it's queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I shan't be gone long. You come too.

I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I shan't be gone long. You come too.

The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside them in her apron
To tell them "Supper." At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap
He must have given the hand.

However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart
He saw all spoiled. "Don't let him cut my hand off
The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!"
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then-the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little-less-nothing! and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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?

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps.
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now—
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

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.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd advertise -- you know!
How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory
As he defeated--dying--
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!

A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him,--did you not,
His notice sudden is.

The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.
He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,

Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,--
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.

Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;

But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.

Because I could not stop for Death--
He kindly stopped for me--
The Carriage held but just Ourselves--
And Immortality.

We slowly drove--He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility--

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess--in the Ring--
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain--
We passed the Setting Sun--

Or rather--He passed us--
The Dews drew quivering and chill--
For only Gossamer, my Gown--
My Tippet--only Tulle--

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground--
The Roof was scarcely visible--
The Cornice--in the Ground--

Since then--'tis Centuries--and yet
Feels shorter than the Day

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

I have had my dream--like others--
and it has come to nothing, so that
I remain now carelessly
with feet planted on the ground
and look up at the sky--
feeling my clothes about me,
the weight of my body in my shoes,
the rim of my hat, air passing in and out
at my nose--and decide to dream no more.

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

The little sparrows
hop ingenuously
about the pavement
quarreling
with sharp voices
over those things
that interest them.
But we who are wiser
shut ourselves in
on either hand
and no one knows
whether we think good
or evil.
Meanwhile,
the old man who goes about
gathering dog-lime
walks in the gutter
without looking up
and his tread
is more majestic than
that of the Episcopal minister
approaching the pulpit
of a Sunday.
These things
astonish me beyond words.

Ecstatic bird songs pound
the hollow vastness of the sky
with metallic clinkings--
beating color up into it
at a far edge,--beating it, beating it
with rising, triumphant ardor,--
stirring it into warmth,
quickening in it a spreading change,--
bursting wildly against it as
dividing the horizon, a heavy sun
lifts himself--is lifted--
bit by bit above the edge
of things,--runs free at last
out into the open--lumbering
glorified in full release upward--
songs cease.

As the cat
climbed over
the top of

the jamcloset
first the right
forefoot

carefully
then the hind
stepped down

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did.

Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
with by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

Buffalo Bill's
defunct
       who used to
       ride a watersmooth-silver
                                  stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeons justlikethat
                                                            Jesus
he was a handsome man
                     and what I want to know is
how do you like your blue-eyed boy
Mister Death

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn't a lie,
     Life would be delight,-
     But things couldn't go right
     For in such a sad plight
I wouldn't be I.

If earth was heaven, and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
     There might be some sense
     But I'd be in suspense
     For on such a pretense
You wouldn't be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
     Things would seem fair,-
     Yet they'd all despair,
     For if here was there
We wouldn't be we.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

The free bird leaps
on the back of the win
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun 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 fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an 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.

Byways and bygone
And lone nights long
Sun rays and sea waves
And star and stone

Types of Poetry

Free Verse

Catch by Robert Francis

Two boys uncoached are tossing a poem together,
Overhand, underhand, backhand, sleight of hand, everyhand,
Teasing with attitudes, latitudes, interludes, altitudes,
High, make him fly off the ground for it, low, make him stoop,
Make him scoop it up, make him as-almost-as possible miss it,
Fast, let him sting from it, now, now fool him slowly,
Anything, everything tricky, risky, nonchalant,
Anything under the sun to outwit the prosy,
Over the tree and the long sweet cadence down,
Over his head, make him scramble to pick up the meaning,
And now, like a posy, a pretty one plump in his hands.

The Pitcher by Robert Francis

His art is eccentricity, his aim

How not to hit the mark he seems to aim at,

His passion how to avoid the obvious,

His technique how to vary the avoidance.

The others throw to be comprehended. He

Throws to be a moment misunderstood.

Yet not too much. Not errant, arrant, wild,

But every seeming aberration willed.

Not to, yet still, still to communicate

Making the batter understand too late.

Short-order Cook by Jim Daniels

An average joe comes in

and orders thirty cheeseburgers and thirty fries.

I wait for him to pay before I start cooking.

He pays.

He ain’t no average joe.

The grill is just big enough for ten rows of three.

I slap the burgers down

throw two buckets of fries in the deep fryer

and they pop pop spit spit…

psss…

The counter girls laugh.

I concentrate.

It is the crucial point—

they are ready for the cheese:

my fingers shake as I tear off slices

toss them on the burgers/fries done/dump/

refill buckets/burgers ready/flip into buns/

beat that melting cheese/wrap burgers

into paper bags/fries done/dump/fill bags/

bring to counter/wipe sweat on sleeve

and smile at the counter girls:

I puff my chest and bellow:

“Thirty cheeseburgers, thirty fries!”

They look at me funny.

I grab a handful of ice, toss it in my mouth

do a little dance and walk back to the grill.

Pressure, responsibility, success,

thirty cheeseburgers, thirty fries.

Change by Charlotte Zolotow

The summer

still hangs

heavy and sweet

with sunlight

as it did last year.

The autumn

still comes

showering gold and crimson

as it did last year.

The winter

still stings

clean and cold and white

as it did last year.

The spring

still comes

like a whisper in the dark night.

It is only I

who have changed.

Sunset by Lillian Moore

There’s dazzle

in the western sky,

colors spill and

run.

The pond mouth

lies open

greedy

for the last drop

melting

sun.

Quatrain

· 4 lines

· many may be joined to make a longer poem

· written in various rhyme and rhythm patterns

· abab, aabb, abac, etc.

November by Alice Cary

The leaves are fading and falling,

The winds are rough and wild,

The birds have ceased their calling,

But let me tell you, my child,

Though day by day, as it closes,

Doth darker and colder grow,

The roots of the bright red roses

Will keep alive in the snow.

There must be rough, cold weather,

And winds and rains so wild;

Not all good things together

Come to us here, my child.

So, when some dear joy loses

Its beauteous summer glow,

Think how the roots of the roses

Are kept alive in the snow.

High Brow by Robert Fitch

He climbed up the peak

To the manner born,

And claimed it was mind

Over Matterhorn.

Ma and God by Shel Silverstein

God gave us fingers—Ma says “Use your fork.”

God gave us voices—Ma says, “Don’t scream.”

Ma says eat broccoli, cereal and carrots.

But God gave us tasteys for maple ice cream.

God gave us fingers—Ma says, “Use your hanky.”

God gave us puddles—Ma says, “Don’t splash.”

Ma says, “Be quiet, your father is sleeping.”

But God gave us garbage can covers to crash.

God gave us fingers—Ma says, “Put your gloves on.”

God gave us raindrops—Ma says, “Don’t get wet.”

Ma says be careful and don’t get too near to

Those strange lovely dogs that God gave us to pet.

God gave us fingers—Ma says, “Go wash ‘em.”

But God gave us coal bins and nice dirty bodies.

I ain’t too smart, but there’s only one thing for certain—

Either Ma’s wrong or else God is.

Limerick

5 lines
Rhyme scheme AABBA
Lines 1,2,5 have three strong beats
Lines 3,4 have two strong beats

MAN FROM PERU

There was an old man from Peru,

Who dreamed he was eating his shoe.

He awoke in the night

With a terrible fright

And found out that it was quite true.

Dutch artists named Vincent and Joe,

Bought vans that cost lots of dough.

A street race was held,

As onlookers yelled,

“Just look at that Vincent van go!”

At the Tennis Clinic by I. L. Martin

There was a young man from Port Jervis

Who developed a marvelous service

But was sorry he learned it

For if someone returned it

It made him impossibly nervous.

Parody

· imitation of a particular style

· imitation of a particular poet/poem

· often treats subject matter in a humorous way

The Guy Not Taken by Blanche Farley

Committed to one, she wanted both

And, mulling it over, long she stood,

Alone on the road, loathe

to leave, wanting to hide in the undergrowth.

This new guy, hair smooth as yellow wood

Really turned her on. She liked his hair,

His smile. But the other, Jack, had a claim

On her already and she had to admit, he did wear

Well. In fact, to be perfectly fair,

He understood her. His long, lithe frame

Beside hers in the evening tenderly lay.

Still, if this blond guy dropped by someday,

Couldn’t way just lead on to way?

No. For if way led on and Jack

Found out, she doubted if he would ever come back.

Oh, she turned with a sigh.

Somewhere ages and ages hence,

She might be telling this. “And I–“

She would say, “stood faithfully by.”

But by then who would know the difference?

With that in mind, she took the fast way home,

The road by the pond, and phoned the blond.

Jill and Jack

Common sense they did lack

To get water from the kitchen

Jack drank from a puddle

And got salmonella

And Jill got influenza.

Acrostic

· first letter of each line spells the theme of the poem

Mothers are really sweet and kind
Only the sweetest thing on earth
They love you more than anything
Have to work all day cleaning
Easy to make them happy
Really easy to give them... xoxo.

Hockey is my favorite sport.
Out cold
Count the periods
knock out
Easy, play the puck, boys
Yikes! Here it comes!

C is for chips which store information,

O is for optical communication,

M is for the memory so essential,

P is for programming potential,

U is for Us, the human element,

T is for technological development,

E is the the education we’re receiving,

R is for Run, which starts the programming,

S is for software, needed for feeding.

Diamante

Circle

birth

miraculous, joyous

growing, living, loving

life, youth, growth, time

remembering giving, aging

gracious, dignified

death

square
symmetrical, conventional
shaping, measuring, balancing
boxes, rooms, clocks, halos
encircling, circumnavigating, enclosing
round, continuous
circle

· seven lines

· Line 1—one word, noun

· Line 2—two adjectives about line 1

· Line 3—three participles (end in -ing) about noun in line 1

· Line 4—four related nouns

· Line 5—three participles about noun in line 7

· Line 6—two adjectives about line 7

· Line 7—one word, noun, opposite of line 1

Sonnet

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Ode

To September

I’ve dreaded your arrival,

Looked forward to you, too.

Oh, month of new beginnings,

I’m glad, yet scared, of you.

New classes, new teachers,

New chances, new shoes,

Old worries, old habits,

Old friends with new news.

You bring each one back.

I’m nervous you’re here,

and excited, September,

You start the school year.

Alligator by Maxine Kumin

Old bull of the waters,

old dinosaur cousin,

with scales by the hundreds,

and teeth by the dozen,

old singer of swamp lands,

old slithery swimmer,

what do you dream of

when fireflies glimmer?

Can you remember

the folk tales of old

14 lines
3 quatrains and a couplet
abab, cdcd, efef, gg
often about love or cosmic questions

tells how the writer feels about a person, place, or thing
lighthearted or serious
written in quatrains

when you breathed fire

and guarded the gold

and stole lovely ladies

and captured their kings

and flew over mountains

on magical wings?

Old bull of the waters,

how can you know

men made you a dragon

in dreams, long ago?

Elegy

Midterm Break by Seamus Heaney

I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close,
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.

In the porch I met my father crying--
He had always taken funerals in his stride--
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.

The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand

And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble,"
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand

In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.

Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,

Wearing a poppy bruise on the left temple,
He lay in the four foot box as in a cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.

A four foot box, a foot for every year.

Apology

You Should Know…

I gave your goldfish

a few drinks of Coke,

And now they’re floating

on their backs.

Forgive me.

They looked so thirsty.

Besides, I didn’t make them drink it.

Apology

I have eaten

the big piece of cherry pie

Which I’m sure you were saving

for your own dessert.

I am sorry.

But the pie was delicious,

and you wouldn’t have wanted

all those calories

anyway!

· poem written to commemorate someone or something that has died

· explains emotions of writer

· remembers the dead

· has 4 parts

· 1—explains what you did

· 2—why someone won’t be happy about it

· 3—your apology

· 4—why you did it and why you’re not really sorry

· lighthearted content

Haiku

Eastern Guard Tower by Etheridge Knight

Eastern guard tower

glints in sunset; convicts rest

like lizards on rocks.

Untitled

A stairway of light

The sun’s bright flaming footsteps

halting my journey.

Untitled

Blue and beautiful
the butterfly stands serene
bathed in sapphire light

Untitled

Honey, I ask thee,
'Oh, to bee or not to bee?'
Yes, the question stings.

Wish Poem

A wish for you

If I could grant a wish for you,

You would get a thrill or two.

May all your lucky numbers win the lottery.

May you discover beautiful, ancient pottery.

May you be able to act and sing.

May life bring you every good thing.

May you eat chocolate and candy, too.

May each dish of ice cream be just for you.

May you always have money and never be poor.

May you always have peace and never know war.

Oh, if I could grant a wish for you,

You would get a thrill or two.

Japanese form of poetry
17 syllables
3 lines
Line 1—5 syllables
Line 2—7 syllables
Line 3—5 syllables
unrhymed
usually present vivid image of nature or intense emotion

· Use the same opening and closing couplet

· 4 couplets with wishes

· rhyming

Sundays too my father got up early                                         Mine is the howl
And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,                           that chills the spine
then with cracked hands that ached                                         in the forest gloom;
from labor in the weekday weather made                                Mine is the whine.
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
                                                                                                            Mine is the nose
I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.                                 that breathes in fear
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,                                                when danger’s close;
and slowly I would rise and dress,                                           mine is the ear.
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
                                                                                                            Mine is the fur
Speaking indifferently to him,                                                 the huntsmen trade;
who had driven out the cold                                                    mine is the fur,
and polished my good shoes as well.                                       I am afraid.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

Imagery most often appeals to _______________________, but skilled poets can use all five senses to bring a poem to life.

Rhythm occurs naturally when we speak and when we read poetry. Some words we stress, some are unstressed. Sometimes we quicken our pace, sometimes we go slower. The rhythm of the poem is how the sounds are arranged, resulting in a sound that is fast or slow, choppy or smooth.

My heart leaps up when I behold                               by A. E. Housman
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;                                    When I was one-and twenty
So is it now I am a man;                                             I heard a wise man say,
So be it when I shall grow old,

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening	Pastoral	Free Verse: Change
The Pasture	Dawn	Free Verse: Sunset
Out, Out	Poem (as the cat)	Quatrain: November
The Road Not Taken	Fog	Quatrain: High Brow
Harlem	Back Yard	Quatrain: Ma and God
Dreams	Young Sea	Limerick: Old Man from Peru
Mother to Son	Improved Farmland	Limerick: At the Tennis Clinic
I, Too	Primer Lesson	Parody: The Guy Not Taken
Formula	Basket	Parody: Jack and Jill
I'm Nobody	Anyone lived in a pretty how town	Acrostic Poems
Success is counted sweetest	Buffalo Bill	Diamante: Circle
A Book	If	Sonnett
A narrow fellow in the grass	L(a	Ode: To September
Because I could not stop for Death	Now is a ship	Ode: Alligator
Shakespeare: Sonnet 18	Still I Rise	Elegy: Midterm Break
From "Hamlet"	I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings	Apology: You Should Know
Prologue of "Romeo and Juliet"	The Traveler	Apology: Apology
Thursday	Free Verse: Catch	Haiku Poems
The Red Wheelbarrow	Free Verse: Pitcher	Wish Poem: A wish for you
This is Just To Say	Free Verse: Short-order Cook	Picture Poem
		Poetic Elements and Techniques