A Poem

Here is a poem I wrote to model using similes and metaphors.

March Madness

Spring is a basketball game.

Spring brings the rain like Jimmer dropping threes.

The jumping players spring up like flowers and trees.

Bouncing balls, birds calling, fans yelling.

Everybody and everything start to warm up.

The other team emerges scared from the locker room,

shivering like a baby chick, just hatched.

Spring and basketball,

My favorites.

Stop judging me. I definitely wrote this on the fly while in the middle of a lesson and the kids contributed.

The Dying of the Light

I don't normally like poems, but I really loved this one when I read it in Matched.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rage at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-Dylan Thomas

The Quiet World

I was linked to this poem while reading the BYU 100 hour board today. I decided I love this poem and I already know I love the 100 hour board.

The Quiet World

In an effort to get people to look into each other's eyes more, and also to appease the mutes, the government has decided to allot each person exactly one hundred and sixty-seven words, per day. When the phone rings, I put it to my ear without saying hello. In the restaurant I point at chicken noodle soup. I am adjusting well to the new way. Late at night, I call my long distance lover, proudly say I only used fifty-nine today. I saved the rest for you. When she doesn't respond, I know she's used up all her words, so I slowly whisper I love you thirty-two and a third times. After that, we just sit on the line and listen to each other breathe. Jeffrey McDaniel