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Monday, September 30, 2019

Poems

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Limericks


There once was a man from Old Bar


Who had a very strange car&


Help with essay on Poems


It was blue with white spots


And yellow polka dots


And on the top there was a pink star.


There once was a man from Sirreat


Who dearly loved to eat


He ate so much that


He became really fat


And couldn't see down to his feet


Haiku


Rain, rain cooling drops


Pitter patter on the roof


Oh beautiful rain


Ballad


I went to war that downcast day


The sky was grey and somber


I left my wife and kids behind


I went on a big bomber


When I arrived at Vietnam


My friends were all but dead


The enemy had sought them out


Then left them while they bled


It was too easy to get lost


In that forsaken jungle


When we were in that cursed war


There was no time for bungle


It rained and rained and never stopped


The mud was ankle deep


But by the time the night had fallen


There was no time for sleep


The dreary war went on for years


The death toll got so high


Until the president told us


To wave and say goodbye


On our way home, our plane was shot


We fell down with a cry


I was the only person there


Who didn't burn and die


For twenty-seven miles I trekked


Until I wasn't alone


The enemy had captured me


And beat me with their stone


They took me to their camp of war


And kept me there for years


Until they finally set me free


Escaping from my fears


When I got home my kids had gone,


Had families of their own


My wife was dead and I was left


Sorrowed and alone


And now I leave you with these words


Don't ever go to war


Unless you wish to lose your life,


Your family and your all.


Acrostic poem


Around me I heard the shouting of dying men


Next to me my best friend was shot dead


Zero. That's how many expected war to be bad


Arrival had the biggest death toll


Constant news of my soldiers dying came to me


Dreading waking up each day


At Gallipoli I was captured.


Year after year at that prisoner of war camp


Task


Students read widely to find a poem of their own choice which they have enjoyed. The poem of choice will be accompanied by a written explanation as to why they liked (and chose) the poem.


MULGA BILL'S BICYCLE


Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;


He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;


He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen;


He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;


And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,


The grinning shop assistant said, Excuse me, can you ride?


See here, young man, said Mulga Bill, from Walgett to the sea,


From Conroys Gap to Castlereagh, theres none can ride like me.


Im good all round at everything as everybody knows,


Although Im not the one to talk - I hate a man that blows.


But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight;


Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wildcat can it fight.


Theres nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel,


Theres nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel,


But what Ill sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight


Ill ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight.


Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode,


That perched above Dead Mans Creek, beside the mountain road.


He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray,


But ere hed gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away.


It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver steak,


It whistled down the awful slope, towards the Dead Man's Creek.


It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box


The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks,


The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground,


As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound.


It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree,


It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be;


And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek


It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dead Mans Creek.


Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore


He said, Ive had some narrer shaves and lively rides before;


Ive rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five-pound bet,


But this was the most awful ride that Ive encountered yet.


Ill give that two-wheeled outlaw best; its shaken all my nerve


To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve.


Its safe at rest in Dead Mans Creek, well leave it lying still;


A horses back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill.


A. B. Paterson


The poem I have chosen is Mulga Bill's Bicycle By A. B. Paterson .I like, and have chosen, this poem because it is humorous, it tells a story of a man catching the cycling craze, then when someone asks him if he knows how to ride he boasts saying everyone knows I'm the best at everything. When he tries to ride he goes out of control and falls into the Dead Mans Creek. The poem also uses metaphor e.g. but riding is my special gift. It has a rhyming scheme of AABBCC etc.


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