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Click on the link and listen to the poem.

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An original poem written for the inaugural reading of Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith at the Library of Congress.

There's a poem in this place-
in the footfalls in the halls
in the quiet beat of the seats.
It is here, at the curtain of day,
where America writes a lyric
you must whisper to say.

There's a poem in this place-
in the heavy grace,
the lined face of this noble building,
collections burned and reborn twice.

There's a poem in Boston's Copley Square
where protest chants
tear through the air
like sheets of rain,
where love of the many
swallows hatred of the few.

There's a poem in the great sleeping giant
of Lake Michigan, defiantly raising
its big blue head to Milwaukee and Chicago-
a poem begun long ago, blazed into frozen soil,
strutting upward and aglow.

There's a poem in Florida, in East Texas
where streets swell into a nexus
of rivers, cows afloat like mottled buoys in the brown,
where courage is now so common
that 23-year-old Jesus Contreras rescues people from floodwaters.

There's a place where this poem dwells-
it is here, it is now, in the yellow song of dawn's bell
where we write an American lyric
we are just beginning to tell.

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An original poem written for the inaugural reading of Poet Laureate Tracy K. Smith at the Library of Congress. There's a poem in this place- in the footfalls in the halls in the quiet beat of the seats. It is here, at the curtain of day, where America writes a lyric you must whisper to say.

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Download this document. This is what you will complete and turn in to Teams.

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In This Place Amanda Gorman poem eng III assignment

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Respond to this poem -- what images jump out at you?

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OLIVE OIL
The toast would taste better with egg, but there aren't any,
so I pour a thimble-sized serving of olive oil on, to make it more

flavorful. I like the taste of olive oil. It reminds me of the time
when I was eighteen and jumped clear over the hood of my car

because I could. To be more specific, olive oil is the part where
I leave the ground and I'm in the air, halfway across. Right then,

before landing on the other side. That's the taste of olive oil.
It also tastes the way Madagascar sounds when you say it

backwards. If there were olive oil cologne, I would wear it and if
there were olive oil goldfish, I would have two in a bowl on the

table. For some reason, it is also a man swallowing lighter
fluid because the pain in his belly is bigger than the Kalahari

Desert. But maybe that's only when you drink it straight; and
sometimes it tastes like Brigitte Bardot. To be more specific,

in the scene where she is sunning naked in Capri, an impossibly
blue ocean wrestling with the sky in the distance.

- from Rattle #21, Summer 2004

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Paul Suntup OLIVE OIL The toast would taste better with egg, but there aren't any, so I pour a thimble-sized serving of olive oil on, to make it more flavorful. I like the taste of olive oil. It reminds me of the time when I was eighteen and jumped clear over the hood of my...

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From the wombs
of true believers,
I came out faithless

a godless decadent
heathen but somewhere
in my foggy ancestral memory
I recall that women
used to worship
snakes. We'd put out

our pagan faith. Now
when we see a cobra
in the house, we scream
and the neighbors run
over with hoes and
machetes. One time
when I was little
I saw one the size
of my arm slithering
on our veranda
and I got to scream
cobra! cobra! snake!

everyone! and they
all came, men yelling
to save me, my
grandfather wielding
a kitchen knife and
hacking the cobra

scream and run away,
I laughed. I know now
that it's a phobia,
that she had no control
over her reaction
but back then her

revulsion was a
sign of weakness, and
I could feel like the
strong one. I guess I've
always had a serpent
tongue, though I learned early

to silence its bite. This, too,
is a gift from the women of
my family. I
can cut through a
lover's blood during

any fight. This is a liability,
this ability
to destroy a person.
When I told my mother
I wanted to be

a writer, she said
nothing. She didn't
have to. We come from
a country where writer
means dead child. In
Harry Potter, speaking

serpent tongue meant
you were evil, but really I
think JK Rowling
couldn't imagine
herself out of her Christianity-
addled brain, like how
Ray Bradbury could think up
LCD wall TVs, but not
a world in which women
had careers. My mother

young and I ignore
her, but she still goes
to sleep every night
thinking dead child dead
child dead child

About SJ Sindu

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From the wombsof true believers,I came out faithless a godless decadentheathen but somewherein my foggy ancestral memoryI recall that womenused to worshipsnakes. We'd put out our pagan faith. Now when we see a cobrain the house, we scream and the neighbors run over with hoes and machetes.

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Dominant Genes by SJ Sindu annotation worksheet

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A critical summary includes:
1. the date, author title and short summary of work
2. 3-4 sentences critiquing the author's use of a particularly element of style
3. a closing sentence that answers why we should care for this work.

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there are 7 types of imagery...

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Imagery in Writing: Analyzing "Olive Oil" by Paul Suntup

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7 Types of Imagery Imagery In Writing TSWBAT identify and analyze the uses of imagery and sound in a poem IOT compose a well-structured paragraph about how those techniques enhance the theme/meaning. In the chat, write your own examples for 2 of the following terms: Sound in The

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Analyzing _Dominant Genes_ by SJ Sindu (Schlich)

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Take notes. Hint: listen to the poem more than twice for this assignment.