"Fast Rode the Knight" by Stephen Crane

Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking,
Ever waving an eager sword,
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the knIght,
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights,
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
. . . . .
A horse,
Blowing, staggering, bloody thing,
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A horse
Dead at foot of castle wall.

When this poem is first read, many misunderstand it and think it is about supporting war or battle. However it is actually the opposite. Crane uses the chivalry theme to show how one goal can be destructive and how mankind sometimes doesn't realize the price that is being paid. Crane starts the poem describing the way that the knight rides his horse. The man travels with eagerness and blindly chases his goal. I think the main lesson Crane is trying to convey throughout this peom is that the noblest causes can bring brutal sacrifices. By the time we reach the goal, we realize that it was not worth it.

&this is my last poetry response ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Let Me Die a Youngman's Death" by Roger McGough

Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

I really liked this poem because of the way it can relate to anyone, and because of the humor. The author is basically saying that he does not want to die a boring normal death. He wants to live life to the fullest and be in an adventure before he dies. He does not want a "famous last-words, peaceful out of breath-death", he wants to die in an exciting way. This poem is full of great scenarios of how the author would like to die. When he is 73, he says he wants to die on his way home from an all night party. When he is 91, he wants to die getting his hair cut while a mob of gangsters walk in and shoot him like in the movies. My favorite one, is how he wants to die when he is 104. He says he wants to get caught by his mistress in bed with her daughter. I loved this poem because I completely agree with it. I don't want a "what a nice way to go death" either. Like Roger McGough, I'd like to die a youngman's death.

" All the World's a Stage" by William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

I picked this poem because it's one of the only ones by Shakespeare that I really understand. I think Shakespeare is trying to point out that we are all living on a stage, which is the world. He says that we are actors in our own lives, with scripts running from our birth to death. 

Then the poem says that we need to be humble as we're not really that important, and many other people are going through exactly what we are.  I liked this poem because I could not only keep up with it, but it kept me itnerested and I understood the meaning at the end-this usually doesn't happen to me when I read Shakespeare's poems or monologues. The main idea I took from this poem was to not take life too seriously, because in reality, we're all just actors in the play of life.

" I Cannot Live With You" by Emily Dickinson

I cannot live with you,
It would be life,
And life is over there
Behind the shelf

The sexton keeps the key to,
Putting up
Our life, his porcelain,
Like a cup

Discarded of the housewife,
Quaint or broken;
A newer Sevres pleases,
Old ones crack.

I could not die with you,
For one must wait
To shut the other’s gaze down,
You could not.

And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death’s privilege?

Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus’,
That new grace

Glow plain and foreign
On my homesick eye,
Except that you, than he
Shone closer by.

They’d judge us-how?
For you served Heaven, you know,
Or sought to;
I could not,

Because you saturated sight,
And I had no more eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise.

And were you lost, I would be,
Though my name
Rang loudest
On the heavenly fame.

And were you saved,
And I condemned to be
Where you were not,
That self were hell to me.

So we must keep apart,
You there, I here,
With just the door ajar
That oceans are,
And prayer,
And that pale sustenance,
Despair!

I read on a website that this was one of Emily Dickinson's most famous poems, but after I read it, I don't really get why. It's a good poem and it has great symbolism in it, but I personally didn't like it at first.She's basically saying how much she hates staying apart from her "lover" or whoever she is writing about. She says that they can't die together, they can't come back from the dead together, they can't be judged by God together, and how they can't live together in this world. The whole time I was reading this I kept thinking, why can't they do any of that together? Maybe they live in different countries or maybe she's in love with an animal or something that she cannot live with. Then I kind of liked the poem at the end because it ended up to be really ironic and comical. She ends up deciding to reject her lover and choses to write poetry over being with him. I thought it was really funny because she goes on a huge passionate rant about her despair of not being able to be with him for no reason because in the end, she chooses poetry over him anyway. That's hardcore dedication.

"Because I Could Not Stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson

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
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity—

This is one of my favorite poems by Emily Dickinson. I'm sure it can be interpreted in many different ways, sometimes I think that famous poets didn't even know what they ment to write about, they just made it so obtuse and let us readers come up with something meaningful about their poetry. But in this case, I really do think that Emily Dickinson wanted to convey an insighful meaning. I think this poem represents immortality. The narrator is talking about her peaceful journey alongside death, just like they are equals. When it talks about children playing, the narrator could be having flashbacks of her childhood and at the end, she mentions eternity, which to me, is like the end of her life. My favorite line in this poem was "Because I could not stop for Death—He kindly stopped for me—" because it personifies death and makes it sound as if death is an equal to us all.

" A Rush Of Blood To The Head" by Coldplay

He said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down
Yeah I'm gonna put it six feet underground
He said I'm gonna buy this place and see it fall
Stand here beside my baby in the crumbling walls
Said I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire
Stand here until I fill all your heart's desires
'Cause I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn
And do back the things it did to you in return


He said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
And I'm gonna buy this place, that's what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head, to the head

Honey, all the movements you're starting to make
See me crumble and fall on my face
And I know the mistakes that I made
See it all disappear without trace
And they call as they beckon you on
They said start as you mean to go on

He said I'm gonna buy this place and see it go
Stand here beside my baby, watch the orange glow
'Cause some'll laugh and some just sit and cry
But you just sit down there and you wonder why
So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
And I'm gonna buy this place, that's what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head, to the head

Honey, all the movements you're starting to make
See me crumble and fall on my face
And I know the mistakes that I made
See it all disappear without trace
And they call as they beckon you on
They say start as you mean to go on
Start as you mean to go on, start as you mean to go on

So meet me by the bridge, yeah meet me on the lane
When am I gonna see that pretty face again
Oh meet me on the road, yeah meet me where I said
Blame it all upon
A rush of blood to the head

The phrase " A rush of blood to the head" in UK is another way of saying, "spontaneously". I think this song is about the damage that can be done when you're in a rage of anger without thinking clearly. I also think that it is ment to show our civilization from afar.  It takes an outsider's approach to our society and paints a kind of dark picture of rubble and ashes and shows the human nature: "So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for". It's that every act that has been done in the history has all started from a thought: "Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head". I'm sure that the lyrics in this song can be understood in many different ways, and I think that's the beauty of Coldplay's lyrics. I liked this song because the sound and the lyrics are powerful and calming, but sinister as the same time.

"Sick" by Shel Silverstein

"I cannot go to school today,"

Said little Peggy Ann McKay,

"I have the measles and the mumps,

A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,

I'm going blind in my right eye.

My tonsils are as big as rocks,

I've counted sixteen chicken pox

And there's one more--that's seventeen,

And don't you think my face looks green?

My leg is cut, my eyes are blue--

It might be instamatic flu.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,

I'm sure that my left leg is broke--

My hip hurts when I move my chin,

My belly button's caving in,

My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,

My 'pendix pains each time it rains.

My nose is cold, my toes are numb,

I have a sliver in my thumb.

My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,

I hardly whisper when I speak.

My tongue is filling up my mouth,

I think my hair is falling out.

My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,

My temperature is one-o-eight.

My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,

There is a hole inside my ear.

I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?

What's that? What's that you say?

You say today is---Saturday?

G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

I really liked this because even though I'm 17 (almost 18), I can still relate to this poem. This may be a shocker to many of you, but school isn't exactly my favorite place to be. As I was reading this poem, I noticed that I've used some of these excuses to try and get out of school. My parents never fall for anything and usually just tell me to suck it up and get to school. However if I'm feeling under the weather and I catch them in particularly good moods, I can sometimes stay home! This is a rare occurrence but it when it does happen, it's amazing. The best feeling in the world to me is waking up and then finding out that school is canceled so I can go right back to bed. Coming in close second would be waking up thinking it's a weekday when it's really a Saturday or Sunday! Preferably when it's a Saturday because then I don't have to think about school the next day. I remember one time during winter, Rishin woke me up to tell me that I could go back to sleep because it was a snow day. Turns out, it was not a snow day. I was furious that day. So in conclusion, Shel Silverstein's poetry is always appealing to me because I can relate to it no matter how old I am. 

"This Poem" by Donald Justice

This poem is not addressed to you.
You may come into it briefly,
But no one will find you here, no one.
You will have changed before the poem will.

Even while you sit there, unmovable,
You have begun to vanish. And it does no matter.
The poem will go on without you.
It has the spurious glamor of certain voids.

It is not sad, really, only empty.
Once perhaps it was sad, no one knows why.
It prefers to remember nothing.
Nostalgias were peeled from it long ago.

Your type of beauty has no place here.
Night is the sky over this poem.
It is too black for stars.
And do not look for any illumination.

You neither can nor should understand what it means.
Listen, it comes with out guitar,
Neither in rags nor any purple fashion.
And there is nothing in it to comfort you.

Close your eyes, yawn. It will be over soon.
You will forge the poem, but not before
It has forgotten you. And it does not matter.
It has been most beautiful in its erasures.

O bleached mirrors! Oceans of the drowned!
Nor is one silence equal to another.
And it does not matter what you think.
This poem is not addressed to you.

I liked this poem because after I was through reading it, I had to sit there and think about what I actually read. The poem makes sense, but there's really no deep meaning to it, and it's not really about anything, which I thought was great. I think it's weird that there's no rhyme scheme in this poem. I tried to count the syllables in the lines but I couldn't find any patterns. I really like this poem, because the author is kind of saying " It doesn't matter what you think about this poem, because it has nothing to do with you". It's hard to read this poem without laughing, and I like poetry like that.

" Never Try to Trick Me With a Kiss" by Sylvia Plath

Never try to trick me with a kiss
Pretending that the birds are here to stay;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

A stone can masquerade where no heart is
And virgins rise where lustful Venus lay:
Never try to trick me with a kiss.

Our noble doctor claims the pain is his,
While stricken patients let him have his say;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

Each virile bachelor dreads paralysis,
The old maid in the gable cries all day:
Never try to trick me with a kiss.

The suave eternal serpents promise bliss
To mortal children longing to be gay;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

Sooner or later something goes amiss;
The singing birds pack up and fly away;
So never try to trick me with a kiss:
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

I picked this poem because I've always wanted to read something by Sylvia Plath. Her life and her suicide intrigue me and so I picked this poem. She supposedly stuck her head in the oven until she suffocated.

Surprisingly, this poem wasn't depressing at all, which is what I expected coming from an author like Sylvia Plath. I think that she is trying to convey that she cannot be tempted, and seductions or "kisses" cannot trick her. I'm not sure if she is talking about a guy trying to seduce her, or just any temptation in general, but it's like she knows that she is being tricked. My favorite line was  "A stone can masquerade where no heart is" meaning that appearances can be very deceiving, but they still can't trick her because she knows what's up.

"Twenty Bucks" by Darren Sardelli

When I asked dad for twenty bucks,
he said, “Lets make a deal.
I’ll give you money only if
you eat a healthy meal.”
I found him sitting on the couch
before I went to bed.
I looked into his tired eyes
and this is what I said:

“I finished all my vegetables.
The carrots tasted great!
I ate the piece of celery
that mom put on my plate.
The eggplant was delicious
and the string beans were divine.
The peppers were fantastic
and the broccoli was fine.
The giant baked potato
was the highlight of my night.
The juicy red tomato
filled my belly with delight.”

My dad said he was proud of me
and handed me the cash.
I hope he doesn't find out
all this food is in the trash!

I picked this poem because it reminds me of my childhood. I hated eating the vegetables my mom cooked and I'd do everything and anything to get out of eating them. My dad never promised me money, but he did promise me a new toy,depending on what I was into at that time. I remember him promising me a new Barbie camper (with a mini kitchen and closet built-in!), new pokemon cards, and new Beanie Babies. And this actually worked! I used to eat all my food at dinner, but I remember one night when I just didn't feel like eating it, so I slipped what I didn't like into the garbage when no one was looking. Yeah, I was a rebel.

Every now and then, it's nice to read a poem like this that we can relate to. And it's a nice change from the usual verbose and obtuse poetry we have to deal with at school. 

"Derelict" by Young E. Allison (Fifteen Men on a Dead Man's Chest)

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike
The bosun brained with a marlinspike
And cookey's throat was marked belike
It had been gripped by fingers ten;
And there they lay, all good dead men
Like break o'day in a boozing ken.
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of the whole ship's list
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
The skipper lay with his nob in gore
Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore
And the scullion he was stabbed times four
And there they lay, and the soggy skies
Dripped down in up-staring eyes
In murk sunset and foul sunrise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ten of the crew had the murder mark!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead
Or a yawing hole in a battered head
And the scuppers' glut with a rotting red
And there they lay, aye, damn my eyes
Looking up at paradise
All souls bound just contrariwise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of 'em good and true
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ev'ry man jack could ha' sailed with Old Pew,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!There was chest on chest of Spanish gold
With a ton of plate in the middle hold
And the cabins riot of stuff untold,
And they lay there that took the plum
With sightless glare and their lips struck dumb
While we shared all by the rule of thumb,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

More was seen through a sternlight screen...
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Chartings undoubt where a woman had been
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
'Twas a flimsy shift on a bunker cot
With a dirk slit sheer through the bosom spot
And the lace stiff dry in a purplish blot
Oh was she wench or some shudderin' maid
That dared the knife and took the blade
By God! she had stuff for a plucky jade
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
We wrapped 'em all in a mains'l tight
With twice ten turns of a hawser's bight
And we heaved 'em over and out of sight,
With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-you-well
And a sudden plunge in the sullen swell
Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

This is a popular song used in all kinds of movies and books about pirates. What a lot of people don’t know is that it was a poem. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote the four popular lyrics for a song in the play, Treasure Island. Then, Young E. Allison expanded on them and wrote this poem. The only reason I know this is because Mrs. Winters was talking about it during Mythology my sophomore year and for some odd reason it stuck with me. Compared to what I was expecting from a pirate poem, "Derelict" is really composed because of the chronological order and clever little rhymes. At first this poem can seem like a tough read, but when you read between the lines and figure out what Allison is saying, you can see that it's a pretty good poem. I spent a while reading through and analyzing it, and it's definitely one of my new favorite poems. So yo ho ho.

"Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou

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.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

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.

This poem is a classic “you can’t knock me down” poem, but because of the author Maya Angelou, and her life story, it means so much more than just that.  Not many people have read Angelou’s biographies or know anything about her at all. To me, she is one of the strongest women I have ever read about.  The poem is about her struggles growing up as a black child and being discriminated against, but it also has to do with her own life and her struggles with herself. Her parents divorced and she was abused by her mother’s boyfriend when she was barely ten. Although her uncles killed that guy, she was still bruised mentally and she became a mute for a few years after. She has literally done everything, from waiting tables, to owning a brothel, and to even living in Egypt. So when you can understand how much she has done and been through, you can read this poem in a whole new light. If someone like Maya Angelou can still rise after everything and smile at her haters, then anyone can.  

"Where the Sidewalk Ends" by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

When I was little I got Shel Silverstein’s book as a gift and my favorite poem in it was "Where the Sidewalk Ends". I think it was mainly my favorite because that’s what the book was called, but I remember liking the poem a lot too.
I like the rhyme-scheme and the way he words his sentences. The sidewalk can be seen as a path that can get someone through a rough time in their life. To me, this poem seems like it was written from a child’s point-of-view. He talks about leaving a place filled with pollution, “where the smoke blows black” and where there are “dark street winds” to where the grass is soft and the sun shines much brighter. Silverstein makes everything sound better than it really is and emphasizes that we think too much and then as a result, complicate things. If we could all imagine the good or positive side of things, like the place at the end of the sidewalk (like children do), then everything would be better.

oh heyy JJ

Tom Tucker- A local family is forced out of their home by ghosts. Who they gonna call?
Diane Simmons-Ghostbusters, Tom.
Tom Tucker-No Diane. Their insurance company. That's just stupid what you said.