Matthew+Hamilton

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

Owen was home schooled he didn't have a life. Owen is really really bad at math. He is never going to get a wife. Owen smells really bad he needs a bath. Why does he not have friends no body knows why. I am in fact his friend but he needs more. But I just wish he would be able to fly. He will go camping and he will eat s'mores. He does not like to paint it makes him mad. When he paints it makes him not like himself. When he makes a good painting he is glad. He could sell his paintings to get some wealth. This is really a lie owen is great. Once in a while owen can be late.

Ode to Septa:

You get me to school everyday. Even though that is the destination, I still like you and appreciate what you give me. Once in awhile you are late, but only twice have you let me down completely. That is approximately 296 morning rides, including today. You allow me to catch up on sleep lost from rising so early to see you. You are warm in the winter and cool in the spring. I have seen many strange and interesting people while traveling with you. The best part is that you have also taken me back home approximately 296 times and for that I am grateful.

Raised by Poem:

I was raised by a dog that barked so loud my ears hurt Licked my face till it was clean Begged for food till I relented and Slept with me at night.

I was raised by a big brother who was my best friend Who laughed with me and protected me Who would back me up and push me forward <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Who played games with me and taught me to swim. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Who had the capacity to make me angrier than anyone in the world.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">I was raised by a woman who comforted me when sick <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Yelled at me when lazy <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Fed me when hungry. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Bought me clothes and got my hair cut. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Watched endless hours of movies with me <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">And was always there when I needed her.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">I was raised by a man who made me laugh as his jokes were so stupid. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Who taught me about music and how to imitate people’s ways. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Who would take me on long walks in the woods and scare me <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">With stories of bears and wolves. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Who taught me all about old cartoons, commercials and TV shows. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">I was raised by FAMILY

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Original Poem of my choice-Haiku:

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Dogs, pant, watch <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Soft, quiet, breathe <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Sit by the window <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Pounce! The mail has come.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Statement about my poetry:

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">This was the first time I ever wrote a Haiku. My first try at it, it had way to many syllables. After pairing it down and pairing it down I finally ended up with seventeen syllables. It was fun to go through that process. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">In my Raised By poem, I thought about each member of my family. I went through them one at a time and wrote key memories for each. The poem basically wrote itself as I didn’t worry about rhymes or format, simply content. Conversely, my sonnet was written for the rhymes and the content was secondary. I think this shows clearly. The ode was written about inanimate something as if it were someone. That was an interesting technique to use and sparked my imagination.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">An Old Man's Winter Night by Robert Frost: code All out of doors looked darkly in at him Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars, That gathers on the pane in empty rooms. What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand. What kept him from remembering what it was That brought him to that creaking room was age. He stood with barrels round him—at a loss. And having scared the cellar under him In clomping there, he scared it once again In clomping off;—and scared the outer night, Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar Of trees and crack of branches, common things, But nothing so like beating on a box. A light he was to no one but himself Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what, A quiet light, and then not even that. He consigned to the moon—such as she was, So late-arising—to the broken moon As better than the sun in any case For such a charge, his snow upon the roof, His icicles along the wall to keep; And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted, And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept. One aged man—one man—can't keep a house, A farm, a countryside, or if he can, It's thus he does it of a winter night. code ||

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Analysis for An Old Man’s Winter Night by Robert Frost:

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Robert Frost uses enough imagery to paint a dark disturbing picture of an old man dying during a cold winter. For example, "A light to no one but himself." The words are so clear as to make the reader not only have a powerful picture about what is going on but also to feel the sadness and the despair of the situation. Frost uses many commas as if to slow the reader down, which helps to paint the picture of the old man. He doesn't use any traditional rhyming patterns but does use alliteration, such as in the beginning of the poem he says 'doors looked darkly' and 'separate stars' talking about the frost

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Blueberries by Robert Frost: code "You ought to have seen what I saw on my way To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day: Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb, Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum In the cavernous pail of the first one to come! And all ripe together, not some of them green And some of them ripe! You ought to have seen!"

"I don't know what part of the pasture you mean."

"You know where they cut off the woods—let me see— It was two years ago—or no!—can it be No longer than that?—and the following fall The fire ran and burned it all up but the wall."

"Why, there hasn't been time for the bushes to grow. That's always the way with the blueberries, though: There may not have been the ghost of a sign Of them anywhere under the shade of the pine, But get the pine out of the way, you may burn The pasture all over until not a fern Or grass-blade is left, not to mention a stick, And presto, they're up all around you as thick And hard to explain as a conjuror's trick."

"It must be on charcoal they fatten their fruit. I taste in them sometimes the flavour of soot. And after all really they're ebony skinned: The blue's but a mist from the breath of the wind, A tarnish that goes at a touch of the hand, And less than the tan with which pickers are tanned."

"Does Mortenson know what he has, do you think?"

"He may and not care and so leave the chewink To gather them for him—you know what he is. He won't make the fact that they're rightfully his An excuse for keeping us other folk out."

"I wonder you didn't see Loren about."

"The best of it was that I did. Do you know, I was just getting through what the field had to show And over the wall and into the road, When who should come by, with a democrat-load Of all the young chattering Lorens alive, But Loren, the fatherly, out for a drive."

"He saw you, then? What did he do? Did he frown?"

"He just kept nodding his head up and down. You know how politely he always goes by. But he thought a big thought—I could tell by his eye— Which being expressed, might be this in effect: 'I have left those there berries, I shrewdly suspect, To ripen too long. I am greatly to blame.'"

"He's a thriftier person than some I could name."

"He seems to be thrifty; and hasn't he need, With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed? He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say, Like birds. They store a great many away. They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet."

"Who cares what they say? It's a nice way to live, Just taking what Nature is willing to give, Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow."

"I wish you had seen his perpetual bow— And the air of the youngsters! Not one of them turned, And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned."

"I wish I knew half what the flock of them know Of where all the berries and other things grow, Cranberries in bogs and raspberries on top Of the boulder-strewn mountain, and when they will crop. I met them one day and each had a flower Stuck into his berries as fresh as a shower; Some strange kind—they told me it hadn't a name."

"I've told you how once not long after we came, I almost provoked poor Loren to mirth By going to him of all people on earth To ask if he knew any fruit to be had For the picking. The rascal, he said he'd be glad To tell if he knew. But the year had been bad. There had been some berries—but those were all gone. He didn't say where they had been. He went on: 'I'm sure—I'm sure'—as polite as could be. He spoke to his wife in the door, 'Let me see, Mame, we don't know any good berrying place?' It was all he could do to keep a straight face.

"If he thinks all the fruit that grows wild is for him, He'll find he's mistaken. See here, for a whim, We'll pick in the Mortensons' pasture this year. We'll go in the morning, that is, if it's clear, And the sun shines out warm: the vines must be wet. It's so long since I picked I almost forget How we used to pick berries: we took one look round, Then sank out of sight like trolls underground, And saw nothing more of each other, or heard, Unless when you said I was keeping a bird Away from its nest, and I said it was you. 'Well, one of us is.' For complaining it flew Around and around us. And then for a while We picked, till I feared you had wandered a mile, And I thought I had lost you. I lifted a shout Too loud for the distance you were, it turned out, For when you made answer, your voice was as low As talking—you stood up beside me, you know."

"We sha'n't have the place to ourselves to enjoy— Not likely, when all the young Lorens deploy. They'll be there to-morrow, or even to-night. They won't be too friendly—they may be polite— To people they look on as having no right To pick where they're picking. But we won't complain. You ought to have seen how it looked in the rain, The fruit mixed with water in layers of leaves, Like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves."

code <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Blueberries by Robert Frost Analysis:

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">In the poem Blueberries, Robert Frost successfully uses dialogue to help the reader understand his stance on country life. For example he says as he speaks to his neighbor, "Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb." while describing the blueberries he came across in the field. The writing of the poem is such that the reader visualizes the discussion happening vividly between two the neighbors. The speech is slow and kind of funny is a gossipy way. Frost rhymes every line, helping add to the ease and flow of the chatting. One can truly see the scenery of the country, berries on the bush and even the clothes they are wearing by the words in the conversation.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">October by Robert Frost: code O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; To-morrow's wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; To-morrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow, Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know; Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away; Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes' sake, if they were all, Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost— For the grapes' sake along the wall. code <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Analysis for October by Robert Frost:

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">This poem paints a picture in the reader’s mind by using descriptive words. Frost uses semi colons and commas to end some of the lines causing the reader to pause and imagine what is happening. He uses enjambments to help continue his thoughts and therefore continuing the imagery. He describes the grapes in vivid detail. Frost says in the poem, "For the grapes' sake" twice in the few lines. He makes it seem like the grapes come alive and have feelings, which helps the reader embody the experience.