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Poems before Candide

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THREE simple rules for understanding poetry?

1. Literal before Figurative

2. Know the meaning of every word

3. Know the antecedent of every

pronoun.

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Group/Room Poem�1. “To You”�2. “Eldorado”�3. “Not Waving But Drowning”�4. “Lines Indicted with All the Depravity….”�5. “Travel”�6. “Pompeii”�7. “A Burnt Ship”�8. “Cocoa Beans”�9. “Socorro”�

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To You BY KENNETH KOCH

I love you as a sheriff searches for a walnut

That will solve a murder case unsolved for years

Because the murderer left it in the snow beside a window

Through which he saw her head, connecting with

Her shoulders by a neck, and laid a red

Roof in her heart. For this we live a thousand years;

For this we love, and we live because we love, we are not

Inside a bottle, thank goodness! I love you as a

Kid searches for a goat; I am crazier than shirttails

In the wind, when you’re near, a wind that blows from

The big blue sea, so shiny so deep and so unlike us;

I think I am bicycling across an Africa of green and white fields

Always, to be near you, even in my heart

When I’m awake, which swims, and also I believe that you

Are trustworthy as the sidewalk which leads me to

The place where I again think of you, a new

Harmony of thoughts! I love you as the sunlight leads the prow

Of a ship which sails

From Hartford to Miami, and I love you

Best at dawn, when even before I am awake the sun

Receives me in the questions which you always pose.

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To You BY KENNETH KOCH

I love you as a sheriff searches for a walnut

That will solve a murder case unsolved for years

Because the murderer left it in the snow beside a window

Through which he saw her head, connecting with

Her shoulders by a neck, and laid a red

Roof in her heart.

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To You BY KENNETH KOCH

Roof in her heart. For this we live a thousand years;

For this we love, and we live because we love,

we are not

Inside a bottle, thank goodness!

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To You BY KENNETH KOCH

Inside a bottle, thank goodness! I love you as a

Kid searches for a goat; I am crazier than shirttails

In the wind, when you’re near, a wind that blows

from

The big blue sea, so shiny so deep and so unlike us;

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To You BY KENNETH KOCH

I think I am bicycling across an Africa of green

and white fields

Always, to be near you, even in my heart

When I’m awake, which swims, and also I believe

that you

Are trustworthy as the sidewalk which leads me to

The place where I again think of you, a new

Harmony of thoughts!

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To You BY KENNETH KOCH

Harmony of thoughts! I love you as the sunlight

leads the prow

Of a ship which sails

From Hartford to Miami, and I love you

Best at dawn, when even before I am awake the sun

Receives me in the questions which you always pose.

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To You BY KENNETH KOCH

I love you as a sheriff searches for a walnut

That will solve a murder case unsolved for years

Because the murderer left it in the snow beside a window

Through which he saw her head, connecting with

Her shoulders by a neck, and laid a red

Roof in her heart. For this we live a thousand years;

For this we love, and we live because we love, we are not

Inside a bottle, thank goodness! I love you as a

Kid searches for a goat; I am crazier than shirttails

In the wind, when you’re near, a wind that blows from

The big blue sea, so shiny so deep and so unlike us;

I think I am bicycling across an Africa of green and white fields

Always, to be near you, even in my heart

When I’m awake, which swims, and also I believe that you

Are trustworthy as the sidewalk which leads me to

The place where I again think of you, a new

Harmony of thoughts! I love you as the sunlight leads the prow

Of a ship which sails

From Hartford to Miami, and I love you

Best at dawn, when even before I am awake the sun

Receives me in the questions which you always pose.

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To You BY KENNETH KOCH

I love you as a sheriff searches for a walnut

That will solve a murder case unsolved for years

Because the murderer left it in the snow beside a window

Through which he saw her head, connecting with

Her shoulders by a neck, and laid a red

Roof in her heart. For this we live a thousand years;

For this we love, and we live because we love, we are not

Inside a bottle, thank goodness! I love you as a

Kid searches for a goat; I am crazier than shirttails

In the wind, when you’re near, a wind that blows from

The big blue sea, so shiny so deep and so unlike us;

I think I am bicycling across an Africa of green and white fields

Always, to be near you, even in my heart

When I’m awake, which swims, and also I believe that you

Are trustworthy as the sidewalk which leads me to

The place where I again think of you, a new

Harmony of thoughts! I love you as the sunlight leads the prow

Of a ship which sails

From Hartford to Miami, and I love you

Best at dawn, when even before I am awake the sun

Receives me in the questions which you always pose.

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Eldorado by Edgar Allen Poe

Gaily bedight,

A gallant knight,

In sunshine and in shadow,

Had journeyed long,

Singing a song,

In search of Eldorado.

But he grew old-

This knight so bold-

And o'er his heart a shadow

Fell as he found

No spot of ground

That looked like Eldorado.

And, as his strength

Failed him at length,

He met a pilgrim shadow-

"Shadow," said he,

"Where can it be-

This land of Eldorado?"

"Over the Mountains

Of the Moon,

Down the Valley of the Shadow,

Ride, boldly ride,"

The shade replied—

"If you seek for Eldorado!"

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Not Waving But Drowning by Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

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Not Waving But Drowning by Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he's dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.

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Not Waving But Drowning by Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he's dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.

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Lines Indicted With All The Depravity Of Poverty by Ogden Nash

One way to be very happy is to be very rich�For then you can buy orchids by the quire and bacon by the flitch.�And yet at the same time People don't mind if you only tip them a dime,�Because it's very funny�

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Lines Indicted With All The Depravity Of Poverty by Ogden Nash

One way to be very happy is to be very rich�For then you can buy orchids by the quire and bacon by the flitch.�And yet at the same time People don't mind if you only tip them a dime,�Because it's very funny�But somehow if you're rich enough you can get away with spending�water like money�While if you're not rich you can spend in one evening your salary for�the year�And everybody will just stand around and jeer.�

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Lines Indicted With All The Depravity Of Poverty by Ogden Nash

One way to be very happy is to be very rich�For then you can buy orchids by the quire and bacon by the flitch.�And yet at the same time People don't mind if you only tip them a dime,�Because it's very funny�But somehow if you're rich enough you can get away with spending�water like money�While if you're not rich you can spend in one evening your salary for�the year�And everybody will just stand around and jeer.�If you are rich you don't have to think twice about buying a judge or a�horse,�Or a lower instead of an upper, or a new suit, or a divorce,�And you never have to say When,�And you can sleep every morning until nine or ten,�All of which�Explains why I should like very, very much to be very, very rich.

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Structure and Meaning

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Travel by Edna St. Vincent Milay

The railroad track is miles away,

And the day is loud with voices speaking,

Yet there isn't a train goes by all day

But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,

Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,

But I see its cinders red on the sky,

And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with friends I make,

And better friends I'll not be knowing;

Yet there isn't a train I'd rather take,

No matter where it's going.

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Travel by Edna St. Vincent Milay

The railroad track is miles away,

And the day is loud with voices speaking,

Yet there isn't a train goes by all day

But I hear its whistle shrieking.

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Travel by Edna St. Vincent Milay

The railroad track is miles away,

And the day is loud with voices speaking,

Yet there isn't a train goes by all day

But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,

Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,

But I see its cinders red on the sky,

And hear its engine steaming.

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Travel by Edna St. Vincent Milay

The railroad track is miles away,

And the day is loud with voices speaking,

Yet there isn't a train goes by all day

But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,

Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,

But I see its cinders red on the sky,

And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with friends I make,

And better friends I'll not be knowing;

Yet there isn't a train I'd rather take,

No matter where it's going.

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Imagery and Structure

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Pompeii BY CHARLES BERNSTEIN

The rich men, they know about suffering

That comes from natural things, the fate that

Rich men say they can't control, the swell of

The tides, the erosion of polar caps

And the eruption of a terrible

Greed among those who cease to be content

With what they lack when faced with wealth they are

Too ignorant to understand. Such wealth

Is the price of progress. The fishmonger

Sees the dread on the faces of the trout

And mackerel laid out at the market

Stall on quickly melting ice. In Pompeii

The lava flowed and buried the people

So poems such as this could be born.

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Pompeii BY CHARLES BERNSTEIN

The rich men, they know about suffering

That comes from natural things,

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Pompeii BY CHARLES BERNSTEIN

The rich men, they know about suffering

That comes from natural things, the fate that

Rich men say they can't control, the swell of

The tides, the erosion of polar caps

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Pompeii BY CHARLES BERNSTEIN

The rich men, they know about suffering

That comes from natural things, the fate that

Rich men say they can't control, the swell of

The tides, the erosion of polar caps

And the eruption of a terrible

Greed among those who cease to be content

With what they lack when faced with wealth they are

Too ignorant to understand. Such wealth

Is the price of progress.

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Pompeii BY CHARLES BERNSTEIN

The fishmonger

Sees the dread on the faces of the trout

And mackerel laid out at the market

Stall on quickly melting ice.

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Pompeii BY CHARLES BERNSTEIN

The fishmonger

Sees the dread on the faces of the trout

And mackerel laid out at the market

Stall on quickly melting ice. In Pompeii

The lava flowed and buried the people

So poems such as this could be born.

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Pompeii BY CHARLES BERNSTEIN

The rich men, they know about suffering

That comes from natural things, the fate that

Rich men say they can't control, the swell of

The tides, the erosion of polar caps

And the eruption of a terrible

Greed among those who cease to be content

With what they lack when faced with wealth they are

Too ignorant to understand. Such wealth

Is the price of progress. The fishmonger

Sees the dread on the faces of the trout

And mackerel laid out at the market

Stall on quickly melting ice. In Pompeii

The lava flowed and buried the people

So poems such as this could be born.

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Meaning and Conceit

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A Burnt Ship by John Donne

Out of a fired ship, which by no way

But drowning could be rescued from the flame,

Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came

Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;

So all were lost, which in the ship were found,

They in the sea being burnt, they in the burnt ship drown'd.

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LITERALLY what is Happening in this short poem?

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A Burnt Ship by John Donne

Out of a fired ship, which by no way

But drowning could be rescued from the flame,

fired ship

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A Burnt Ship by John Donne

Out of a fired ship, which by no way

But drowning could be rescued from the flame,

Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came

Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;

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A Burnt Ship by John Donne

Out of a fired ship, which by no way

But drowning could be rescued from the flame,

Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came

Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;

So all were lost,

all

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A Burnt Ship by John Donne

Out of a fired ship, which by no way

But drowning could be rescued from the flame,

Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came

Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;

So all were lost, which in the ship were found,

They in the sea being burnt, they in the burnt ship drown'd.

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Now, that we understand the Literal – propose a figurative, a metaphorical meaning of this poem?

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A Burnt Ship by John Donne

Out of a fired ship, which by no way

But drowning could be rescued from the flame,

Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came

Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;

So all were lost, which in the ship were found,

They in the sea being burnt, they in the burnt ship drown'd.

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Juxaposition

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Cocoa Beans by Freda Dennis Cooper

Little chocolate hands in a vast chocolate land, a world of lovers inexcusably oblivious, can't taste baby's blood mixed in.

Little chocolate hands lead to small chocolate faces, eyes filled with the hope of more than just $1 a day.

Wishes of a comfy bed and enough food to stop the pangs they've come to know all too well.

Industry fed by high demand and little chocolate hands, hands full of precious cocoa beans in baskets on their heads however they can.

A world of lovers sinfully unaware can't taste baby's blood mixed in.

The finest confections delight connoisseurs and the lay alike.

Perhaps, if we all knew about those chocolate hands, there wouldn't be a need for those chocolate hands to work like they do.

Five-, six-, seven-year-old hands slave to make my candy bar I can't live without.

We love to taste and indulge while little chocolate hands rub little bellies that bulge from too little food they can't do without.

Hypocrites are we who shed a tear, tell a friend, fast on Valentine's Day.

Then, just like a predator lures its prey with a deceiving smile, take hold of little chocolate hands saying, `It's going to be all right,' and lead them to the fields for just one more harvest.

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