Poetry

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Poetry Definitions

Poetry Characteristics

Poetry Definitions Poetry Characteristics $100 $200 $300 $400 $500 $600 $700 $100 $200 $300 $400 $500 $600 $700

A style of poetry defined as a complete thought written in two lines.

Couplet

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A song-like poem.

Lyric

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A long narrative poem in a grand ceremonious style.

Epic

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A distinctive poetic style that uses system or pattern metrical structure and verse composition.

Sonnet

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A narrative folk song.

Ballad

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An elaborately formal lyric poem, often in the form of a lengthy ceremonious address.

Ode

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A type of literature defined as a song or poem, written in couplets.

Elegy

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Composed of 14 lines and written in iambic pentameter.

(Shakespearean)Sonnet

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Stories of heroes and their deeds that illustrate values of society.

Epic

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Multiple stanzas that move from grief to praise to solace.

Elegy

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Praise or thankfulness that addresses one person, place, or thing.

Ode

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Stories of antiheroes and their catastrophes that illustrate values of society.

Mock epic

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Implies but does not state a message while illustrating thoughts and feelings.

Lyric

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Story-like narrative about love, tragedy, and/or adventure

Ballad

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Double Jeopardy

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Poetry Characteristic Cross-overs

Poems

Poetry Characteristics Cross-Overs Poems $200 $400 $600 $800 $1000 $200 $400 $600 $800 $1000

These two poem types are considered song-like.

LyricandBallad

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These two poem types illustrate thoughts and feelings.

ElegyandLyric

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These two poem types have an extended metaphor.

SonnetandElegy

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These two poem types have repetition.

BalladandLyric

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These three poem types have heightened mature language.

Epic, Mock Epic, and Ode

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Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters what it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! It is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. It this be error and upon me proved, I never write, nor no man ever loved.

Sonnet

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He disappeared in the dead of winter: The brooks were frozen, the airports almost deserted, And snow disfigured the public statues; The mercury sank in the mouth of the dying day. What instruments we have agree The day of his death was a dark cold day. You were silly like us; your gift survived it all: The parish of rich women, physical decay, Yourself. Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry. Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still, For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives In the valley of its making where executives Would never want to tamper, flows on south From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs, Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives, A way of happening, a mouth. In the deserts of the heart Let the healing fountain start, In the prison of his days Teach the free man how to praise.

Elegy

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Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Ode

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At morn- at noon- at twilight dim- Maria! thou hast heard my hymn! In joy and woe- in good and ill- Mother of God, be with me still! When the hours flew brightly by, And not a cloud obscured the sky, My soul, lest it should truant be, Thy grace did guide to thine and thee; Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast Darkly my Present and my Past, Let my Future radiant shine With sweet hopes of thee and thine!

Ballad

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I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm. The eyes beside had wrung them dry, And breaths were gathering sure For that last onset, when the king Be witnessed in his power. I willed my keepsakes, signed away What portion of me I Could make assignable,-and then There interposed a fly, With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz, Between the light and me; And then the windows failed, and then I could not see to see.

Lyric

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