Study Guide for Final

Be SURE you can answer all of the following questions in your own words:

1. In reading and understanding poetry, WHY is it important to be aware of the connotative meanings of words as much as the denotative meanings?

2. a. Explain the difference between literal language and figurative language.
2. b. Why do poets choose figurative language over the literal when composing lines of poetry?

3. What is the difference between the speaker of the poem and the poet?

4. What do shifts in poetry indicate?

5.  Why does poetry require closer reading than prose? What makes poetry so "hard" to understand?

6.  What does imagery refer to in a poem?

When given a poem, expect to answer the following questions:

7.  a. Who is the speaker?
7. b.  What does the poem reveal about the speaker's character?  (Example: if you say a speaker is determined or lonely or reflective, indicate words, phrases or lines in which this seems to be apparent.)

8.  a.From what perspective or point of view is the speaker describing specific events? 
8. b. Is the speaker recounting events of the past or events that are occuring in the present? If past events are being recalled, what present meaning to they have for the speaker?

9.  a.What literal circumstance or situation is presented in the poem?
9. b.What specific images (or word pictures) or other types of figurative language are used in the poem to help convey the circumstance or situation? (You need NOT name the convention or type of figurative language, but you need to be able to point out words, phrases, lines.)

10. a.Write the line(s) that indicate the shift that occurs in the poem.
10. b. What shift has occurred in the poem? Does the shift affect the speaker? If so, how? If not . . . why not?

*** 11. What is it about the nature of humanity or human experience IN GENERAL that is revealed in the poem?  Discuss this in 1-3 paragraphs, relating lines from the poem as needed to support your answer.

Poetry Selections

Introduction to Poetry

Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night. 

‘Out, Out—’

BY ROBERT FROST

The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard

And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,

Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.

And from there those that lifted eyes could count

Five mountain ranges one behind the other

Under the sunset far into Vermont.

And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,

As it ran light, or had to bear a load.

And nothing happened: day was all but done.

Call it a day, I wish they might have said

To please the boy by giving him the half hour

That a boy counts so much when saved from work.

His sister stood beside him in her apron

To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw,

As if to prove saws know what supper meant,

Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—

He must have given the hand. However it was,

Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!

The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,

As he swung toward them holding up the hand

Half in appeal, but half as if to keep

The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—

Since he was old enough to know, big boy

Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—

He saw all was spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off—

The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’

So. But the hand was gone already.

The doctor put him in the dark of ether.

He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.

And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.

No one believed. They listened to his heart.

Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.

No more to build on there. And they, since they

Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

Notes:
"Out, Out—" is a poem by American poet Robert Frost, published in 1916. It tells the story of a young boy who dies after his hand is severed by a "buzz-saw". The poem focuses on people's reactions to death, as well as the death itself, one of the main ideas being that life goes on. The poem was apparently based on a true event which is believed to have occurred in March 1910. Raymond Fitzgerald, the son of Frost's friend and neighbour, lost his hand to a buzz saw and bled so profusely that he went into shock, dying in spite of his doctor's efforts. The title is a reference to Shakespeare's Macbeth:

     Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing (Act V, sc.v).

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save. 

Let Evening Come by Jane Kenyon

Let the light of late aftern oon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don't
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come. 

Aristotle

BY BILLY COLLINS

This is the beginning.

Almost anything can happen.

This is where you find

the creation of light, a fish wriggling onto land,

the first word of Paradise Lost on an empty page.

Think of an egg, the letter A,

a woman ironing on a bare stage

as the heavy curtain rises.

This is the very beginning.

The first-person narrator introduces himself,

tells us about his lineage.

The mezzo-soprano stands in the wings.

Here the climbers are studying a map

or pulling on their long woolen socks.

This is early on, years before the Ark, dawn.

The profile of an animal is being smeared

on the wall of a cave,

and you have not yet learned to crawl.

This is the opening, the gambit,

a pawn moving forward an inch.

This is your first night with her,

your first night without her.

This is the first part

where the wheels begin to turn,

where the elevator begins its ascent,

before the doors lurch apart.

This is the middle.

Things have had time to get complicated,

messy, really. Nothing is simple anymore.

Cities have sprouted up along the rivers

teeming with people at cross-purposes—

a million schemes, a million wild looks.

Disappointment unshoulders his knapsack

here and pitches his ragged tent.

This is the sticky part where the plot congeals,

where the action suddenly reverses

or swerves off in an outrageous direction.

Here the narrator devotes a long paragraph

to why Miriam does not want Edward's child.

Someone hides a letter under a pillow.

Here the aria rises to a pitch,

a song of betrayal, salted with revenge.

And the climbing party is stuck on a ledge

halfway up the mountain.

This is the bridge, the painful modulation.

This is the thick of things.

So much is crowded into the middle—

the guitars of Spain, piles of ripe avocados,

Russian uniforms, noisy parties,

lakeside kisses, arguments heard through a wall—

too much to name, too much to think about.

And this is the end,

the car running out of road,

the river losing its name in an ocean,

the long nose of the photographed horse

touching the white electronic line.

This is the colophon,*  the last elephant in the parade,

the empty wheelchair,

and pigeons floating down in the evening.

Here the stage is littered with bodies,

the narrator leads the characters to their cells,

and the climbers are in their graves.

It is me hitting the period

and you closing the book.

It is Sylvia Plath in the kitchen

and St. Clement with an anchor around his neck.

This is the final bit

thinning away to nothing.

This is the end, according to Aristotle,

what we have all been waiting for,

what everything comes down to,

the destination we cannot help imagining,

a streak of light in the sky,

a hat on a peg, and outside the cabin, falling leaves.

1. A statement at the end of a book, typically with a printer's emblem, giving information about its authorship and printing. Sylvia Plath committed suicide; St. Clement was thrown into the ocean, with an iron anchor, to drown A recording of this poem can be heard here: Billy Collins reads his poem "Aristotle"

I Said to Poetry  by Alice Walker

I said to Poetry:"I'm finished 
with you." 
Having to almost die 
before some weird light 
comes creeping through 
is no fun. 
"No thank you, Creation, 
no muse need apply. 
I'm out for good times-- 
at the very least, 
some painless convention." 

Poetry laid back 
and played dead 
until this morning. 
I wasn't sad or anything, 
only restless. 

Poetry said: "You remember 
the desert, and how glad you were 
that you have an eye 
to see it with? You remember 
that, if ever so slightly?" 
I said: "I didn't hear that. 
Besides, it's five o'clock in the a.m. 
I'm not getting up 
in the dark 
to talk to you." 

Poetry said: "But think about the time 
you saw the moon 
over that small canyon 
that you liked so much better 
than the grand one--and how suprised you were 
that the moonlight was green 
and you still had 
one good eye 
to see it with 

Think of that!" 

"I'll join the church!" I said, 
huffily, turning my face to the wall. 
"I'll learn how to pray again!" 

"Let me ask you," said Poetry. 
"When you pray, what do you think 
you'll see?" 

Poetry had me. 

"There's no paper 
in this room," I said. 
"And that new pen I bought 
makes a funny noise." 

"Bullshit," said Poetry. 
"Bullshit," said I. 
----------- --- Alice Walker 

The Gift

BY LI-YOUNG LEE

To pull the metal splinter from my palm

my father recited a story in a low voice.

I watched his lovely face and not the blade.

Before the story ended, he’d removed

the iron sliver I thought I’d die from.

I can’t remember the tale,

but hear his voice still, a well

of dark water, a prayer.

And I recall his hands,

two measures of tenderness

he laid against my face,

the flames of discipline

he raised above my head.

Had you entered that afternoon

you would have thought you saw a man

planting something in a boy’s palm,

a silver tear, a tiny flame.

Had you followed that boy

you would have arrived here,

where I bend over my wife’s right hand.

Look how I shave her thumbnail down

so carefully she feels no pain.

Watch as I lift the splinter out.

I was seven when my father

took my hand like this,

and I did not hold that shard

between my fingers and think,

Metal that will bury me,

christen it Little Assassin,

Ore Going Deep for My Heart.

And I did not lift up my wound and cry,

Death visited here!

I did what a child does

when he’s given something to keep.

I kissed my father.

FINAL EXAM in 1102 over POETRY!! YAY!! (with just a touch of sarcasm)

Final Exam for the Macon - English 1102:
Monday, May 6th - 1- 3 p.m.

OVER POETRY

Terms you will need to know:

diction
the difference between denotation and connotation
imagery - please realize it deals with ALL the senses
symbol
irony
how does the speaker of a poem differ from the poet?  does the speaker have a particular point of view?
does the speaker direct his words to a particular audience?
does the poem have a setting? if it does, what is it and why is it important?
how does the poem relate to human experience, as a whole?
what figurative language is used the poem? for what purpose?
what shifts or changes occur in the poem?

Essay Topics on OTHELLO

NOTE: Since I was late getting the topics posted, you may turn your papers in a week from this Monday, on April 29th, which is the last "regular" class day. 

Select one of the following for an essay on Othello. Like previous papers, this one should be at least 3 pages. Make sure the evidence for this essay is traced from the first act through the last of the drama. Quotes are strongly encouraged for this paper, as it counts 20% of your final grade. When quoting from drama refer to the third example on the following website:  
Citing Lines from Shakespeare

JEALOUSY:  Jealousy, the “green eye’d monster,”  its causes and consequences is at the heart of Shakespeare’s Othello. Not only is the “valiant Moor” stricken with the malady that ruins his life, but so are other major--and minor--characters in the play, specifically Iago, Roderigo, and Bianca. Discuss the insecurity within each of these characters that leads to his/her jealousy, the actions each character takes because of the jealousy and the ultimate consequence that his/her action engenders.

DESDEMONA‘S CHARMS:  “A guiltless death I die,” swears Desdemona, and, indeed, the audience knows she has never been “false” to her husband or had an immoral relationship with Cassio. Nevertheless, what actions, beginning in the first act and carried throughout the drama, does Desdemona commit that help to seal her fate? Why does her feminine appeal at first charm her husband, then contribute to her undoing?

IN DEFENSE OF IAGO: Iago is the mastermind of Shakespeare’s drama, the puppet master who manipulates willing victims with his eloquence and articulation. There is no doubt of his evil, of his schemes, of his wicked intentions from Act I. Shortly after Othello has murdered the fair Desdemona, Iago is exposed by his wife, who is immediately dispatched [killed] by her husband, who then has no more words for the Moor, the men of Cyprus, or the audience. At some point Iago would be brought to a court and no doubt there would be someone to plead the case for “honest Iago.” Assume the role of Iago’s defender and--excluding a plea for insanity--provide an explanation for Iago’s actions and an argument to defend his actions.

ET TU, AUDIENCE:  Many of the most enjoyed dramas  are those in which the audience is in some way involved, in which they feel connected to the action of the characters on stage. In some ways, Shakespeare uses Iago to manipulate the audience, as well as the characters on stage, through Iago’s soliloquies and asides throughout the plays. Trace Iago’s speeches to the audience from Act I through Act V. How does Iago create interest and suspense in  the audience, as well as dramatic irony?  Why are his speeches both enlightening and horrifying to the audience?  Why does the audience follow Iago’s actions and words more closely than any other character in the drama?

An Introduction to Poetry

Is poetry really that “hard” or are we just “lazy”?  Why?

We like our language clear and straight to the point. We like our stories and plays to be entertaining and to be easily understood. We expect to put in time to be able to understand symbolism and irony in either fiction or drama—why don’t we expect a poem to take an equal amount of time?  We associate “short” with easy. Why?

Consider the following short, humorous poem; is there a serious statement underlying the wit of the couplet?  Yes. What else is the speaker saying?

Fleas
Adam
Had 'em.

Poetry is often short, but it is far from easy. Take the following poem by Emily Dickinson: Much Madness is divinest Sense - (620)Much Madness is divinest Sense - (620)

Much Madness is divinest Sense

Much Madness is divinest Sense -
To a discerning Eye -
Much Sense - the starkest Madness -
`Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail -

Assent - and you are sane -
Demur - you`re straightaway dangerous -
And handled with a Chain –

Understanding  the vocabulary in a poem is critically important. If there are ANY words you don’t know or understand, get thee to a dictionary!  And don’t just hope to find one definition, find ALL the definitions. Poets love wordplay, puns, double meaning. Poets find it clever; we find it difficult.  Yet poets have a way of phrasing that often reveals truth, as in Dickinson’s poem.

The following poem by Stephen Crane is short, but easy:

What is the poet doing in this short, short poem? Is he being funny? Is he being cold? Is he attempting to reveal something to the reader? Is the universe meant to be “God” as conceived by most people—or is the “universe” something else in this poem?

A man said to the universe:

A man said to the universe:
"Sir I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."

NEXT:

Textbook: page 11

Obviously, poetry [as we conceive it] no longer must have formal rhyme or even formal rhythm as in the time of ancient Greece or Rome or even “modern” Shakespeare. In fact, there is something very modern called the “prose poem,” which often looks much like a short paragraph. So what DOES poetry have to have to be considered poetry?

Exact word choice – page 12          “Music” – page 15

Figurative language – page 13        ***Questions to ask – page 17

Lines, Notes, Questions AND an IMPORTANT Revelation

Othello

It's important to realize that it is NOT simply adequate to understand the plot, but to be able to consider deeper questions, once you"get" what's going on in the drama. 
For example:
What insecurities trigger Othello's jealousy?
What do the words and actions of the women in the play reveal about the role of women, in general, at this time?
How would the action in the play be different if there were no Rodrigo and Cassio?
What prompts Iago's jealousy? What prompts his misogyny?
How do Iago's soliloquies, as well as remarks by other characters to him and the audience, create dramatic irony in the drama?
How does dramatic irony create interaction between the players and the audience?

Act I: characters are introduced, defined, background/groundwork laid for the action that is to come; if a play  were a painting, this would be the initial sketch, with the focal point identified, but little else

Act I, sc. i

Lines: 7-23; 35-36; 41-64; 95-99; 111-114; 150-153;

Act I, sc. ii

Lines: 3-4;62-79;

Act I, sc. iii

Lines: 48-52; 128-170; 180-188; 287-299;309-381;

Act II: “the plot thickens,” the initial conflict is established, with the antagonist divulging his scheme to the audience, but to no one else; in doing so, he demonstrates his ability to manipulate other characters and fully establishes his role; in this act, the dark and light values and the underpainting is created—the “painting” is become clear, but not fully whole yet.

Act II, sc. i

Cassio’s concern for Othello, his respect for Desdemona, his manners toward Emilia: 1-100; examples of Iago’s  misogyny: 110-158; importance of Iago’s asides: 164-171; 194-196 (again, dramatic irony in the term honest Iago); Iago again uses Roderigo; Iago’s soliloquy: 259-285

Act II, sc. ii

Othello’s trust: 6-10; Iago’s continued scheme, involving Cassio: 35-52—note what happens and how this involves Roderigo; 152-162; dramatic irony in Iago’s lines: 196-200+; Cassio’s punishment leads to his reaction, followed by Iago’s advice; Iago’s soliloquy: 290-315

Act III: THE TURNING POINT; after this act, the “dye is cast;” not only does Iago involve Roderigo in his machinations, but his unsuspecting wife, Emilia, as well; more importantly, Othello succumbs to the scheme laid by “honest Iago” and to his own insecure, jealous nature; the painting Shakespeare began in Act I now has greater development, the mid-values, greater definition in the focal point and clarity

Act III, sc. I; sc. ii

Note what Cassio thinks of Iago: 36-38; Iago begins to suggest Cassio’s involvement with Desdemona, 35-40;

Act III, sc. iii

93- 275; note that Desdemona unwittingly falls directly into Iago’s plan; note the cause of Othello’s headache and of Desdemona’s “napkin” that she drops; Iago’s plan: 320-329; Othello’s internal conflict: 335-363;384-390; note what Othello DEMANDS of Iago: 399; note the dramatic irony that Act III, sc. iii ends with

Act III, sc. iv

Explain the argument between Othello and Desdemona that opens this scene and that between Bianca and Cassio; obviously, note the role the handkerchief plays between both couples

Not that you're lazy, but . . .

It's not a difficult summary to read, but, when all else fails, watch the cartoon:
Othello: the cartoon (Lawsy, lawsy, lawsy!!)

(Sorry--couldn't get the video to post on this one)

Please know that this does not excuse you from READING