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    The summary provides the key details from 3 poems in 3 sentences or less: To the Memory of Mr. Oldham by John Dryden mourns the early death of a fellow poet whose work showed great promise. Tear by Linda Hogan reflects on the forced relocation of Native Americans and how their ancestors endure within her. Poems by Nikki Grimes describes sorting through difficult memories and how writing helps preserve those most meaningful.

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    The summary provides the key details from 3 poems in 3 sentences or less: To the Memory of Mr. Oldham by John Dryden mourns the early death of a fellow poet whose work showed great promise. Tear by Linda Hogan reflects on the forced relocation of Native Americans and how their ancestors endure within her. Poems by Nikki Grimes describes sorting through difficult memories and how writing helps preserve those most meaningful.

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    13 views6 pages

    Five Poems That Interest Me

    Uploaded by

    lovleyhafsa
    The summary provides the key details from 3 poems in 3 sentences or less: To the Memory of Mr. Oldham by John Dryden mourns the early death of a fellow poet whose work showed great promise. Tear by Linda Hogan reflects on the forced relocation of Native Americans and how their ancestors endure within her. Poems by Nikki Grimes describes sorting through difficult memories and how writing helps preserve those most meaningful.

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    of 6

    Five Poems That Interest Me

    To the Memory of Mr. Oldham


    By John Dryden
    Farewell, too little and too lately known,

    Whom I began to think and call my own;

    For sure our souls were near ally’d; and thine

    Cast in the same poetic mould with mine.

    One common note on either lyre did strike,

    And knaves and fools we both abhorr’d alike:

    To the same goal did both our studies drive,

    The last set out the soonest did arrive.

    Thus Nisus fell upon the slippery place,

    While his young friend perform’d and won the race.

    O early ripe! to thy abundant store

    What could advancing age have added more?

    It might (what nature never gives the young)

    Have taught the numbers of thy native tongue.

    But satire needs not those, and wit will shine

    Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.

    A noble error, and but seldom made,

    When poets are by too much force betray’d.


    Thy generous fruits, though gather’d ere their prime

    Still show’d a quickness; and maturing time

    But mellows what we write to the dull sweets of rhyme.

    Once more, hail and farewell; farewell thou young,

    But ah too short, Marcellus of our tongue;

    Thy brows with ivy, and with laurels bound;

    But fate and gloomy night encompass thee around.

    Tear
    By Linda Hogan
    It was the time before
    I was born.
    I was thin.
    I was hungry. I was
    only a restlessness inside a woman’s body.

    Above us, lightning split open the sky.


    Below us, wagon wheels cut land in two.
    Around us were the soldiers,
    young and afraid,
    who did not trust us
    with scissors or knives
    but with needles.
    Tear dresses they were called
    because settler cotton was torn
    in straight lines
    like the roads we had to follow
    to Oklahoma.

    But when the cloth was torn,


    it was like tears,
    impossible to hold back,
    and so they were called
    by this other name,
    for our weeping.

    I remember the women.


    Tonight they walk
    out from the shadows
    with black dogs,
    children, the dark heavy horses,
    and worn-out men.

    They walk inside me. This blood


    is a map of the road between us.
    I am why they survived.
    The world behind them did not close.
    The world before them is still open.
    All around me are my ancestors,
    my unborn children.
    I am the tear between them
    and both sides live.
     25 Lines or Fewer

    Poems
    By Nikki Grimes
    I am hardly ever able
    to sort through my memories
    and come away whole
    or untroubled.
    It is difficult
    to sift through the stones,
    the weighty moments and know
    which is rare gem,
    which raw coal,
    which worthless shale or slate.
    So, one by one,
    I drag them across the page
    and when one cuts into the white,
    leaves a trail of blood,
    no matter how narrow the stream,
    then I know
    I’ve found the real thing,
    the diamond,
    one of the priceless gems
    my pain produced.
    “There! There,” I say,
    “is a memory worth keeping.”
    Pre 20th Century

    The Ocean
    By Nathaniel Hawthorne

    The Ocean has its silent caves,


    Deep, quiet, and alone;
    Though there be fury on the waves,
    Beneath them there is none.

    The awful spirits of the deep


    Hold their communion there;
    And there are those for whom we weep,
    The young, the bright, the fair.

    Calmly the wearied seamen rest


    Beneath their own blue sea.
    The ocean solitudes are blest,
    For there is purity.

    The earth has guilt, the earth has care,


    Unquiet are its graves;
    But peaceful sleep is ever there,
    Beneath the dark blue waves.
    The Star
    By Ann Taylor & Jane Taylor

    TWINKLE, twinkle, little star,


    How I wonder what you are!
    Up above the world so high,
    Like a diamond in the sky.

    When the blazing sun is gone,


    When he nothing shines upon,
    Then you show your little light,
    Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

    Then the trav'ller in the dark,


    Thanks you for your tiny spark,
    He could not see which way to go,
    If you did not twinkle so.

    In the dark blue sky you keep,


    And often thro' my curtains peep,
    For you never shut your eye,
    Till the sun is in the sky.

    'Tis your bright and tiny spark,


    Lights the trav'ller in the dark:
    Tho' I know not what you are,
    Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

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