Presentation on theme: "Poem Project By: Anna-Marie Moran. The Eye That Could Not See By: Anna-Marie Moran There once was a girl named Marie, Sadly, she could not see, She wondered."— Presentation transcript:
Poem Project By: Anna-Marie Moran
The Eye That Could Not See By: Anna-Marie Moran There once was a girl named Marie, Sadly, she could not see, She wondered if there was a key, To the eye that could not see.
The Beach Never ending blue A place of relaxation Beautiful skies Hot sand underneath your feet A cooling breeze through the air By: Anna-Marie Moran
A Special Place Tall trees surrounding me As I run through the quiet forest My mind goes empty By: Anna-Marie Moran
The Woods Tall trees towering me Humming birds flying Everything is quiet Where I can relax Olive colored leaves Observing the beautiful outdoors Damp ground Special place
The River By: Anna-Marie Moran Looking at the creek, Searching for that little sneak, It is smarter than most, But to me it toast For I am not a giver, Just the king of the river.
After a Hundred Years By: Emily Dickinson After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,-- Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged, Strangers strolled and spelled At the lone orthography Of the elder dead. Winds of summer fields Recollect the way,-- Instinct picking up the key Dropped by memory. This poem makes me feel sad because it makes me feel like nobody will remember me after a hundred years. I think this poem is about what life will be like for you, after a hundred years. Your memories will be gone, nobody will remember you, and nobody will read your writings.
A Lockless Door By: Robert Frost It went many years, But at last came a knock, And I thought of a door With no lock to lock. I blew out the light, I tip-toed the floor, And raised both hands In prayer to the door. But the knock came again, My window was wide; I climbed on the sill And descended outside. Back over the sill, I bade a “Come in” To whoever the knock At the door may have been. So at the knock I emptied my cage, To hide in the world And alter with age. This poem makes me feel like I should make my dreams come true because if I don’t try I will be trapped in my mind and I will just keep thinking of doing something but I will never actually do it. I think this poem is about a person who is trapped in their own thoughts. Frost says a lockless door, I think that he is referring to your mind and that some people get trapped in their thoughts and don’t know how to get out.
A Peck of Gold By: Robert Frost Dust always blowing about the town, Except when sea-fog laid it down, And I was one of the children told Some of the blowing dust was gold. All the dust the wind blew high Appeared like god in the sunset sky, But I was one of the children told Some of the dust was really gold. Such was life in the Golden Gate: Gold dusted all we drank and ate, And I was one of the children told, 'We all must eat our peck of gold. This poem makes me think about all the things that people stopped doing because they found something better. I think this poem is about life in the gold rush and how if you didn’t find gold, you wouldn’t have the money to eat. I the gold rush, people were going crazy and searching for gold. And now it is a place where nobody thinks bout the gold anymore and it is still there.
The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls By: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveler hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls. Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls. The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore Returns the traveler to the shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls. This poem is mysterious and dark. Therefore, it makes me feel that way. I think this poem is about the sea taking a traveler in and then when the tide rises and falls it removes their footprints so nobody would know they were there.
Dreams By: Langston Hughes 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. This poem inspires me to not dream to do. I think this poem means if you dream too much you will loose track of the real world.