The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams

1. The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens.

2. The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens.

3. This is Just to Say William Carlos Williams I have eatenthe plumsthat were inthe icebox and whichyou were probablysavingfor breakfast Forgive me they were deliciousso sweet and so cold

4. This is Just to Say William Carlos Williams I have eatenthe plumsthat were inthe icebox and whichyou were probablysavingfor breakfast Forgive me they were deliciousso sweet and so cold

5. Landscape With The Fall of IcarusWilliam Carlos Williams a farmer was ploughinghis fieldthe whole pageantryof the year wasawake tinglingnear the edge of the seaconcernedwith itselfsweating in the sunthat meltedthe wings’ wax unsignificantlyoff the coasttherewas a splash quite unnoticedthis wasIcarus drowning

6. Landscape With The Fall of IcarusWilliam Carlos Williams a farmer was ploughinghis fieldthe whole pageantryof the year wasawake tinglingnear the edge of the seaconcernedwith itselfsweating in the sunthat meltedthe wings’ wax unsignificantlyoff the coasttherewas a splash quite unnoticedthis wasIcarus drowning

7. STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING by Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know.    His house is in the village though;    He will not see me stopping here    To watch his woods fill up with snow.    My little horse must think it queer    To stop without a farmhouse near    Between the woods and frozen lake    The darkest evening of the year.    He gives his harness bells a shake    To ask if there is some mistake.    The only other sound’s the sweep    Of easy wind and downy flake.    The woods are lovely, dark and deep.    But I have promises to keep,    And miles to go before I sleep,    And miles to go before I sleep.

8. STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING by Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know.    His house is in the village though;    He will not see me stopping here    To watch his woods fill up with snow.    My little horse must think it queer    To stop without a farmhouse near    Between the woods and frozen lake    The darkest evening of the year.    He gives his harness bells a shake    To ask if there is some mistake.    The only other sound’s the sweep    Of easy wind and downy flake.    The woods are lovely, dark and deep.    But I have promises to keep,    And miles to go before I sleep,    And miles to go before I sleep.

9. The Tiger By William Blake Tyger! Tyger! burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeCould frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skiesBurnt the fire of thine eyes?On what wings dare he aspire?What the hand dare sieze the fire? And what shoulder, & what art.Could twist the sinews of thy heart?And when thy heart began to beat,What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain?In what furnace was thy brain?What the anvil? what dread graspDare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears,And watered heaven with their tears,Did he smile his work to see?Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger! Tyger! burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeDare frame thy fearful symmetry?

10. The Tiger By William Blake Tyger! Tyger! burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeCould frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skiesBurnt the fire of thine eyes?On what wings dare he aspire?What the hand dare sieze the fire? And what shoulder, & what art.Could twist the sinews of thy heart?And when thy heart began to beat,What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain?In what furnace was thy brain?What the anvil? what dread graspDare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears,And watered heaven with their tears,Did he smile his work to see?Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger! Tyger! burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeDare frame thy fearful symmetry?

11. Dog by Valerie Worth Under a maple tree The dog lies down, Lolls his limp Tongue, yawns, Rests his long chin Carefully between Front paws; Looks up alert; Chops, with heavy Jaws, at a slow fly, Blinks, rolls On his side, Sighs, closes His eyes: sleeps All afternoon In his loose skin.

12. Dog by Valerie Worth Under a maple tree The dog lies down, Lolls his limp Tongue, yawns, Rests his long chin Carefully between Front paws; Looks up alert; Chops, with heavy Jaws, at a slow fly, Blinks, rolls On his side, Sighs, closes His eyes: sleeps All afternoon In his loose skin.

13. The Pasture By Robert Frost I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):I sha’n't be gone long. You come too. I’m going out to fetch the little calfThat’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,It totters when she licks it with her tongue.I sha’n't be gone long. You come too.

14. The Pasture By Robert Frost I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):I sha’n't be gone long. You come too. I’m going out to fetch the little calfThat’s standing by the mother. It’s so young,It totters when she licks it with her tongue.I sha’n't be gone long. You come too.

15. T h i s    c i t y:t h ea l w a y sn o i s eg  r  i  n  d  i  n  gup     from     thes u b w a y su n d e rg r o u n d:slamming from bus tiresand taxi horns and enginesof cars and trucks in all v  o  c  a  b  u  l  a  r  i  e  sofclasflashscreechinghot  metal    l a n g u a g ec  o  m  b  i  n  a  t  i  o  n  s:as    p l a n e so v e r h e a dr o a rano r c h e s t r aof rolling  drumsand battle blastsassaultingmy earsw i t ht h ea l w a y sn o i s e   oft h i s   c i t y: street    music. “Street Music” by Arnold Adoff

16. T h i s    c i t y:t h ea l w a y sn o i s eg  r  i  n  d  i  n  gup     from     thes u b w a y su n d e rg r o u n d:slamming from bus tiresand taxi horns and enginesof cars and trucks in all v  o  c  a  b  u  l  a  r  i  e  sofclasflashscreechinghot  metal    l a n g u a g ec  o  m  b  i  n  a  t  i  o  n  s:as    p l a n e so v e r h e a dr o a rano r c h e s t r aof rolling  drumsand battle blastsassaultingmy earsw i t ht h ea l w a y sn o i s e   oft h i s   c i t y: street    music. “Street Music” by Arnold Adoff

17. The Apple by S.C. Rigg

18. The Apple by S.C. Rigg

19. “Love that Boy” by Walter Dean Myers Love that boy, like a rabbit loves to run I said love that boy like a rabbit loves to run Love to call him in the morning love to call him “Hey there, son!”

20. “Love that Boy” by Walter Dean Myers Love that boy, like a rabbit loves to run I said love that boy like a rabbit loves to run Love to call him in the morning love to call him “Hey there, son!”

21. What makes a poem? Rythm It makes a picture in your mind...an image rhythm Just a few words repetition A feeling, an emotion assonance A poem can have... A few words, lots of meaning Reader can put in their own meaning Sentences don’t have to be proper rhyme By 5C March 2011

22. Love That Poem! Use the second slide in this presentation to write your own poem; use your own idea or feeling, but use the form of the poem. When you have finished choose 3 to put on the blog. After you have read some form other people, revise your 3, ready to hand in.