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This poem explains the man's love for chess, which is symbolic....

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Origin runs deep into the soil. Ink strokes bleed through, Vermilion and rusty, chaining names to life. Chess piece clicks on marble board Tiu! Your grandson too? I share his na...

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Title: Love

Poet: Rukmini Bhaya Nair

F > free verse

L ....

I

R

T

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my son, not quite seven, said

It was a bad day at school
Six children cried

Why? Were they sick? Did teacher scold?
Which six?

Trinanjan
Ishita - two times Ishita!
Arjun
Jatin
Actually, three times Ishita!
I can't tell you about it

Why not?

Neha started it
Rahul and I ran away
It was a madhouse!

A madhouse? Viraj, tell Amma, please.

You'll scold me. It was in the break
Teacher wasn't there

Okay, don't tell me! You don't have to tell me.

They were talking about
Love.

Love?

My not-quite-seven son looks sheepish, then mulish

Yeah, love.

But why did everyone cry? Love is nothing
To cry about! Love's a happy thing
Viraj, you know that

dear god, how we lie to our children
my son, named for procreation

amalgam of wild Aryan rituals
my son, the first Vedic man
stares at me

his glowing rhesus eyes
full of candour, of trust

my son says

Neha said Trinanjan loves Lori
And then Trinanjan started crying
Ishita loves Subir. Everybody says she loves Subir
Even Devika loves Subir
And Ishita cried

Actually, Trinanjan loves Lori, but Lori
Doesn't love Trinanjan
So Trinanjan cried

And you, Viraj, whom do you love?
You know.
No, I don't. Who?
Neha.
And Neha? Does anyone else love Neha?
She loves me.
That's lucky. How do you love Neha, Viraj?
Do you play with her? Is she your special friend?

No, I just love her.

Viraj, why didn't you cry?

I was brave

yes you were brave, Viraj
you don't know just how brave
you'll have to be

it's a lonely business - this love
you were the first man, you ought to know

and then I think how primitive
this thing is, how old
what fires have burned for it
what fantailed dances it inspires

schooldays
neatly segmented into periods, subjects
Hindi, Maths, English
and something mysterious called E.V.S.
but all that method, that learning
those iterated aisles of desks
rows of little chairs
then come to this -
a break at high noon
at recess

Love breaks into that gap in the day
it holds its own classes

Erich Segal, sentimentaliser of a generation
you knew love was about crying, Ryan O'Neal
had to love Ali McGraw, if it was really

Love

you knew about the accusations, the guilt
but you had no inkling that all the schmaltz
the romance, begins with this instinct
for pairing
with recitations, incantations
encirclements
spells

Neha began it. It was a madhouse.

Trinanjan and Lori, Viraj and Neha, Ishita
and Subir, Subir and Devika, have they all
entered the madhouse?

Love

is not never having to says things
it is to say things, show things
over and over and over again
with all the desperate jazz at your disposal

see, that's Romeo on his bum guitar
and that's the moon, shameless mauve
riding the tide - and Neha
you can make out Neha
stirring her amateur brew

O Viraj, step back, step back
from the red-bottomed langur turn-ups
from the aggrieved jackal cries
from the kingfisher's Dionysiac blue

you are too young for a tragic hero
too young to die of natural causes
O Viraj - you are just too young for words!

words, even words
can tear you apart -
if those are all you have

but today my son Viraj, not quite seven
is indifferent to danger

he is brave

merged with the brilliant sky, the earth's
dark quilted bracken
he has become his first self -
three thousand, twelve thousand
a billion years old . . .

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my son, not quite seven, said It was a bad day at school Six children criedWhy? Were they sick? Did teacher scold?Which six? Trinanjan Ishita - tw...

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title: to have love

author: Patrick Cullinan

F= it has a short line and one stanza

L= He uses loaded words to give the reader a sense of feeling.

I = I makes me think of a man walking through an apple orchard

R = it doesn't rhyme at all

T = the theme, the topic is love

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To have love and then lose it:the white hail in the orchardlying with leaves it has strippedand the storm moving away.

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My father sleeps on the floor, and we're waiting
for his salary, like a miracle, like the messiah, like when I was little, like the end of the world,
when we'll all eat ourselves sick and die
and we'll see the flashing of a world without time - that's how we wait,
in the evenings pressing our stares into the one window
of our one room, which is covered in grey foil to keep out the summer sun;

my father sleeps on the floor
in the kitchen, and mom and me are in the room with my son, and it's
like our breathing is synchronized, and we hear each other when we wake in the night;

they're clearing the smokestacks at the power station again, and their hum, and sometimes the roar
of the biggest stack, spreads across our neighborhood - as if it's
jumping out of the sky and racing across our rotten earth,
like an evil spirit. and August
drives its blue bulls across the dark sky, along the nervous hills
of landfills, overgrown ponds, and the palaces
of provincial supermarkets - toward our strange communities,
crammed into a single building, a single swarm of intellect,
washing the earth with our dumb tears,
as we wait for my father's salary and curse,
because it still hasn't come, and we can't just kill the people responsible
or ask them to go away; because sometimes
we want to kill each other,
when August rips your brains apart with its black glow,
when the trees come alive and embrace
the drunks at the edge of town, singing them lullabies, like little ones,
setting them down quietly into dumpsters,
when the old cat in the kitchen is gnawing at dried dill and howling for who knows what
something animal;

we want to kill each other, like loved ones, but we go back to sleep,
and even in our dreams mom and me are waiting for papa's salary,
so we can buy shampoo and shower gel,
so we can take my son for a ride on the boats,
so we can get a bus into town and see the garden show,
and so we can finally just eat what we want and eat and eat,
as long as there's time; and papa is sleeping in the kitchen and coughing,
his lungs don't open like a crimson flower, like in poems, but rumble
and slosh inside,
and the night smells torment his skin;
he's asleep and he doesn't know anything about his salary,
he's talking in his sleep, saying something in Moldavian to his brother.

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My father sleeps on the floor, and we're waiting for his salary, like a miracle, like the messiah, like when I was little, like the end of the world, when we'll all eat ourselve...

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F-it has 2 stanza

L

I

R

T
O.B. Thompson

https://allpoetry.com/poems/about/fiji

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Title - I LOVE YOU

Poet - Tsotso magazine

F - 6 stanzas, all same length. All 4 lines long apart from the last.

L - Verb, adjective.

i - two people saying "i love you" in different parts of life.

R - repetition("why" every first line stanza 1) and all follow a pattern.

T - romantic love, adoration, happiness.

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Did I ever say it to you face to face?
Or maybe I sang my way out to say it?
No. Not yet. My memory says no.
Yet I know, I surely love you.

Why then will I not tell you that I love you?
Why not say it, face it, face to face?
Why take advantage of pen and paper?
Why not confess by mouth, face to face?

You didn't say it to me either
Why didn't you say it?
Are you not sure that you love me?
Yet I'm sure that you love me.

But I've said to you, "I love you"
And you've said to me, "I love you"
We've said, "We're in love"
And the world has said, "They're in love"

For when a smile could say, "I love you"
I would smile enough to say it
When turning away suggests, "I love you"
I look away and smile unseen

When crying meant "I love you"
I always remember those times
When your eyes shone with tears
Tears that said to me, "I love you, boy"
Let me say it one more time;
"I surely love you, girl."

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Did I ever say it to you face to face? Or maybe I sang my way out to say it? No. Not yet. My memory says no. Yet I know, I surely love you. Why then will I not tell you that I l...

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title: SOME LOVE POEMS

Poet: Brendan Cleary

F. There are 20 stanzas and most of the lines consist of 4 to 5 words but some can have 3 words. The only unusual short stanzas are when they just numbers.

L. There are lots of verbs like " Your bathroom is alone" and "dumb room" and the adjectives in these sentences are "dumb" and "alone". There is a small amount of repetition like the words "I'll stay" and there is lots of similes, for example "There are diamonds on your eye lids".

I. What I see when I read this poem is someone walking down London road whilst snow is falling from the sky and I also see a blond women that left the poet and this is the reason that she is walking out in the snow.

R. There is no words that rhyme but there is barely any rhythm so it is quite free flowing.

T. The topic of the text is love. while the theme of the text is about a break up and the tone is a cold and snowy night.

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There you go
this morning
with frost
in your parka
down London Road

I'd know your walk
anywhere

But I'm not there
I'm in this dumb room
with your blond hair
& all the beautiful lines
on your very special face

2

In your doorway
I'll stay

the light kisses
I'll place
& there are diamonds
on your eyelids

I'll stay here
in your doorway
& when we kiss
we both look so young

3

Your bathroom is alone
the spotless white bath
your brushes & stuff

I'd stand here often
in my own silence
but your bathroom is alone now
& I don't wait

I don't walk
down to the table and ashtray
just to remind you again
how much you will always move me

4

It's only your voice
& frost on the wires

It's only the touch
of your hair

only the sunlight
through your white blinds

It's only your presence
on all the platforms & rain

in all the aisles
in the glasses & bottles

in the air
in the wayward stars

in all the leaves
in our unhappy faces

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1 There you go this morning with frost in your parka down London Road I'd know your walk anywhere But I'm not there I'm in this dumb room with your blond hai...

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f 4 line win each stanza and there are 3 stanza and there is allot of repetition

l allot of when and its like supporting someone so showing love

i it makes you think if someone who is caring for someone

r its very repetitive and there isnt any rhyming

t its about someone talking about someone they care or love for

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When the oscillator hums, I'll hold your handWhen they come to get you, I'll pull you asideWhen the engine purrs, I'll find the right wordsWhen the music stops, your lips may ha...

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f > free verse

L > Brazilian

i > Love

r > it has a soft rythm

t > a love story about a mother and her children.

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Girls' and boys' enduring chant Heard during earth auscultation The giant awakens Non-silence aesthetics of space The polyhedron of death: Duality And the lady Maria born the...

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title - Eagles

poet - Philip Nikolayev

F > 1 stanza, 13 lines, short verse

L > very formal

I > i can imagine 2 eagles flying over nature

R > doesnt rhyme

T > people in nature

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Two eagles circled over Cambridge today,
a rare sight, lovely
against the chalkboard sky.
Drawn to stare, I soon noticed
that they went around in near-perfect circles
at even sp…

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F > free verse 2 stanzas

L > canadian

I > love

R > none as its free verse

T > about a drug addict and alcoholic but seeks help with his parents.

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Gekleineerd en bedreigd keerde razernij
naar binnen: drank, misbruik, het gezicht van de geliefde
onherstelbaar beschadigd. Chief Poundmaker

en Grote Beer hadden te stellen met verhongering,
met Gatlin-machinepistolen om hun verzet te matigen;
verdragen als enige optie. Mijn geknakte celmaten

waren bepaald geen meesters over hun lot, noch
voerlui van hun ziel. Gebuffeld en over de rand
gedreven, was uitroeiing hun naam.

Neem Charley Joe, slonzig, suikerziek,
haakte naar alles wat hij zich niet kon
veroorloven, slapend, zijn hoofd op mijn schouder,

een zacht onderbroken gesnurk. Toen ik
in de dronkemanscel werd gegooid bood Charley mij
zijn haveloze trui en vertelde me over

zijn zusje dat in de straten van Kelowna
peesde, vermist werd, maar met kuiltjes van
des Scheppers duim en wijsvinger geboren was.

/

Kansen om te overleven waren op de kostschool
half-om-half. Ongemarkeerde graven bevatten
het gebeente van borelingen, door de nonnen

weggemaakt; van kinderen gestorven door lijf-
straffen en ziekte, eenzaamheid en honger die
immuunsystemen ondermijnden. Tien jaar lang

de wereld door een waas van drugs
en alcohol beziend, mijn kinderen verwaarloosd,
mijn vrouw tot waanzin gedreven. Toen AA-

bijeenkomsten faalden, zwichtte ik voor de zweethut
waar de woede door mijn poriën wegsijpelde
en de steen op mijn borst lichter ging wegen.

Goed nieuws voor Sisyphus. Een jaar om af te kicken
met de hulp van vrienden, zang en trommeldansen -
wij allen gebrandmerkt, getekend door oorlog.

Gekoesterd, omhelsd, aangespoord om terug te gaan,
neem ik de kinderen met mij mee. Ik wist niet
of ik het kon of eigenlijk wel wilde.

Ik kwam als een vreemdeling thuis. De bestrate weg
bezat geen magie, de bomen spraken mij niet langer
aan. Vader op zee omgekomen. Moeder, overmand

door smart en vreugde, wist niet hoe ze het
in mijn nieuwe taal moest zeggen. Grootvader lachte
en zette een metalen emmer naast mijn stoel.

Toen ik niet reageerde pakte hij die op
en sleepte zijn kreupele lijf naar de kust
om naar strandgapers te graven. Het was laag tij.

De zee, een spiegel, weerkaatste onze wederzijdse
wanhoop. Ik liep naar de waterrand,
raakte zijn schouder aan en nam de schep

behoedzaam uit zijn handen. Terwijl ik mijn gewicht
vol op het blad drukte en voelde hoe diep het insneed,
wekten getijde-klanken enkele lang verzonken

gevoelens op en merkte ik dat ik huilde
en lachte tegelijk, een schepsel
naakt, gekraakt, voor zee noch land geschikt.

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Belittled and browbeaten, rage turned inward: drink, abuse, the beloved's face damaged beyond repair. Poundmaker and Big Bear had starvation and Gatling guns to temper their re...

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f 1 stanza and loads of lines

l its very repetitive and use love allot

i makes me think if someone who is thinking of all the things about love with someone

r there is lots of repetitive bits and not much rhyme

t its all about love

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Mama I Love You To No End

F-4 stanza

L-It's like one side of a conversation

I

R

T

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At the burial of a common man

F. Free verse 2 stanzas 18 lines

L.The poet uses simple and straightforward language to convey the speaker's emotions

I. Heartbreak

R. No rhyme

T About how the poet is heartbroken over his friends death who was a soldier in the army

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F> free verse

L> Malaysian

I> love

R> 3 stanzas

T> childhood love

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If we do not love each other how come the thought of you dissolves me, like sorrow? like the world being poured back into a dead lake bereft yet congenial Perhaps love is a bu...

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title : A death foretold

poet : kofi awoonor

f > 7 stanzas, 69 lines, free verse

l > sad language

i > a sad man

r > doesnt rhyme

t > very sad, heartbreaking

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Sometimes, the pain and the sorrow return particularly at night. I will grieve again and again tomorrow for the memory of a death foretold. I grieve again tomorrow cull a flower...

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Title: The Lovers

Author: Victoria Chang

F- The poem is very short, with only one stanza and 6 lines, all relativity short, except for the last line which pulls the poem 'together'.

L- The language is quite simple, with the occasional use of metaphors and language such as 'the water holds the fire'.

I- The poem speaks a lot about water and rivers, so you can imagine water

R- The poem doesn't have no rhyme it is a free verse

T- The topic is memories and how people rely on love.

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There is a wildfire starving on top of a lake. See how the water holds fire but cannot end it? We insist on love when all we want is mercy.

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F -> 12 stanzas, not rhyming.

L -> Uses synonyms to describe neglected children.

I -> Unmarked graves, Nuns, crying babies

R ->

T ->

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Gekleineerd en bedreigd keerde razernij
naar binnen: drank, misbruik, het gezicht van de geliefde
onherstelbaar beschadigd. Chief Poundmaker

en Grote Beer hadden te stellen met verhongering,
met Gatlin-machinepistolen om hun verzet te matigen;
verdragen als enige optie. Mijn geknakte celmaten

waren bepaald geen meesters over hun lot, noch
voerlui van hun ziel. Gebuffeld en over de rand
gedreven, was uitroeiing hun naam.

Neem Charley Joe, slonzig, suikerziek,
haakte naar alles wat hij zich niet kon
veroorloven, slapend, zijn hoofd op mijn schouder,

een zacht onderbroken gesnurk. Toen ik
in de dronkemanscel werd gegooid bood Charley mij
zijn haveloze trui en vertelde me over

zijn zusje dat in de straten van Kelowna
peesde, vermist werd, maar met kuiltjes van
des Scheppers duim en wijsvinger geboren was.

/

Kansen om te overleven waren op de kostschool
half-om-half. Ongemarkeerde graven bevatten
het gebeente van borelingen, door de nonnen

weggemaakt; van kinderen gestorven door lijf-
straffen en ziekte, eenzaamheid en honger die
immuunsystemen ondermijnden. Tien jaar lang

de wereld door een waas van drugs
en alcohol beziend, mijn kinderen verwaarloosd,
mijn vrouw tot waanzin gedreven. Toen AA-

bijeenkomsten faalden, zwichtte ik voor de zweethut
waar de woede door mijn poriën wegsijpelde
en de steen op mijn borst lichter ging wegen.

Goed nieuws voor Sisyphus. Een jaar om af te kicken
met de hulp van vrienden, zang en trommeldansen -
wij allen gebrandmerkt, getekend door oorlog.

Gekoesterd, omhelsd, aangespoord om terug te gaan,
neem ik de kinderen met mij mee. Ik wist niet
of ik het kon of eigenlijk wel wilde.

Ik kwam als een vreemdeling thuis. De bestrate weg
bezat geen magie, de bomen spraken mij niet langer
aan. Vader op zee omgekomen. Moeder, overmand

door smart en vreugde, wist niet hoe ze het
in mijn nieuwe taal moest zeggen. Grootvader lachte
en zette een metalen emmer naast mijn stoel.

Toen ik niet reageerde pakte hij die op
en sleepte zijn kreupele lijf naar de kust
om naar strandgapers te graven. Het was laag tij.

De zee, een spiegel, weerkaatste onze wederzijdse
wanhoop. Ik liep naar de waterrand,
raakte zijn schouder aan en nam de schep

behoedzaam uit zijn handen. Terwijl ik mijn gewicht
vol op het blad drukte en voelde hoe diep het insneed,
wekten getijde-klanken enkele lang verzonken

gevoelens op en merkte ik dat ik huilde
en lachte tegelijk, een schepsel
naakt, gekraakt, voor zee noch land geschikt.

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Belittled and browbeaten, rage turned inward: drink, abuse, the beloved's face damaged beyond repair. Poundmaker and Big Bear had starvation and Gatling guns to temper their re...

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Title: Yankunytjatjara Love Poems

poet: Ali Cobby Eckermann

F.There are 20 stanzas with most of them consisting of 2 lines. The only long line is 7 long.

L. The loaded words are words like "warrior". There is a lot of repetition

I. When I read this poem I think about a little girl wandering looking for someone.

R. I couldn't find the rhythm in this poem so it is a free flow poem and some of the words rhyme.

T. The theme is searching for their lover/warrior the topic is love and the tone is a feeling of being lost.

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1. I walk to the south I walk to the northwhere are you my Warrior?I sit with the desert I sit with the oceanwhere are you my Warrior?I sing to the trees I…

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Title - I wished i loved lawnmowers

Poet - Mark Waldron

F - 16 shorts stanzas, each have 2 lines.

L - Metaphors (Using lawnmowers for... heroin??)

i - A man walking around thinking about his old rehab and lawnmowers.

R - Repetition

T - Healing

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I really do wish I did. Because if I loved
lawnmowers I could go to the lawnmower museum I just heard
about on the radio in a piece about small museums.
It’s in Southport appa…

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Hal Loyd Denton Mar 2013

Coconut Cove

F

L

I

R

T

https://hellopoetry.com/words/polynesia/

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F- 5 stanzas free verse

L- powerful words such as unforgivable, suffer and awkwardness

I- no imagery i don't imagine anything

R- free verse no rhyme

T- theme of unrequited love

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The sky lies flat on the ground,
invisible and solid.

You are dressed in the colour of your hair,
in your eyes, your steps and your words.
You're here and elsewhere. I give chase to you

and shudder. You are too tall perhaps,
or too near. Your inapproachability
is unforgivable. If I could be a bird -

but the precision escapes me
as does the trust. I look at you

and shudder. Talk to me, as I'll keep quiet,
suffer my stranglehold, suffer
the awkwardness, suffer me, love.

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The sky lies flat on the ground, invisible and solid. You are dressed in the colour of your hair, in your eyes, your steps and your words. You're here and elsewhere. I give chas...

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Salutations to the dog-meat vendor,
he skins and guts the ones put down by vets;
his cuts, half rotten, are sweet and tender.

He sets no store by breed or gender,
He traps no strays, he abducts no pets;
salutations to the dog-meat vendor.

Neither a borrower nor a lender,
not too worried about whom he upsets;
his cuts, half rotten, are sweet and tender.

The one at the helm, the great pretender,
has plunged his people into untold debts;
salutations to the dog-meat vendor.

No one places blame on this offender;
starving citizens must have no regrets.
his cuts, half rotten, are sweet and tender.

This villanelle has just one agenda:
appreciate what poverty begets.
His cuts, half rotten, are sweet and tender.
Salutations to the dog-meat vendor.

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Salutations to the dog-meat vendor, he skins and guts the ones put down by vets; his cuts, half rotten, are sweet and tender. He sets no store by breed or gender, He traps no s...

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FLIRT Analysis

F (Form & Structure)

All stanzas have 4 lines each with 3 stanzas, a total of 12 lines. Per stanza, each sentence has around the same amount of letters.

L (Language)

It is a formal piece of literature and uses many commas.

I (Imagery)

When you read it, you can imagine how the reader is feeling and you can gain a vision of something you may have done in life.

R (Rhyme and Rhythm)

I noticed that in stanza 2 and 3, the first and last sentences both use the same word at the end. It rhymes within most stanzas but not always all in the same place.

T (Theme, Topic, Tone)

It is a love poem, about being a stranger to a place and forms love with someone / something within it.

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I’m hanging on, a stranger to this land,Caught up by love that drives me beyond the boundsBetween the skies. Where you are is your look-out.I’m hanging on a stranger to this lan…

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Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

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And now –
has it come to this?
We’re right next to one another, but so far apart.
Two lovebirds, transmitted by signal, breaking up.
No, four lovebirds – breaking up – becoming a sardine run
without ever reaching the other one’s shore.

I’m against love, the whole multiplication thing:
The Vatican’s never-ending bakery, as well as the fish shop
next door.

Your pricked-up breasts don’t fool me,
you’re just panelbeating your armour.
The metaphors have become soldiers, the gestures are all stretchers
and you’re a babushka-doll
of never-ending napoleons, one smaller than the other.
Strip the peacemakers naked and throw them out the windows –
Hot Cross buns first! I don’t care about the middle ground.
Let’s split up. The nice thing about dividing
the atom is that you can trust it, a million times over.
Our sweet words? They’ve soured –
the poisonous petit fours of a deserted voodoo ritual.
The only good thing about this is to see
how the counsellors and the priests flee,
those black peacocks in their useless sandals.
I’m against love. Let the continents drift apart.
Let them shape new worlds. New discoverers.
Another religion.

I’m against sense. I’m against confusion too.
Just the other day they crossed a pig’s egg
with a human sperm. I’m all for it.
Thank you mister girl deamons,
missus colonel flying fish,
for raining frogs on the ventriloquist,
for chaining the juggler
to the orchard of suspended oranges.

And the bangees that mounted the Trappist;
one can never trust a nightmare.
Now I’m at square one again –
you stole my Three Monkeys!

Baby Zeus, Mother Sun,
you were my photostatted little pantheon
blown to life by the wind,
but the temple is now torn and aflutter with wings.

What has become of us? Where are the memories?
We are frozen at one another’s throats
like eagles in the coat-of-arms
of a family that became extinct.

It is becoming summer on the highveld, where we both live.
They call this region the Cradle of Humanity,
where the first hominids roamed. Another year is passing.
The skeletons of primordial tigers lie packed up
in the limestone, like virtual grand pianos.
The naked savannah sings. And the lightning flashes
like my computer screen, the moment I store this sentence.
Scurrying stockbrokers of the young republic,
flighting new markets, are crushing the primitive skulls underfoot.
But while everything starts to live again, our love has died.
The grey guinea fowl are coming out of the grass, in their graphite shawls.
These are the peacocks, the down fireworks of  long, long ago –
that have dulled on the retinas of two corpses, that are ours.

Love: the hidden categories,
the painted doors of the honey catacombs,
And now this. Damn it. Fuck it. Persecution.

Time: a stone of petrified strawberries;
the picnic basket that got stolen by a baboon
near Sterkfontein Caves,
and the vanished couple.
Yes this. Damn. –

We are sleeping at the bottom of a sea.
Our faces are looking in opposite directions,
two profiles embossed on separate coins.
Our hair that would lift in the breeze of the present
is now minted on the wind of eternity.
We are a lost treasure.
The ship went aground in foul weather.

But one day, on a clear day in the distant future
two skindivers, a boy and a girl,
two beautiful lovers in the shallow water,
will discover you and me again
with their brand-new bodies
and retrieve us
from this forgotten wreck.

FLIRT

Against love is the poem I chose is about breaking up with someone you love and how much it pains you.

There are 42 lines

He speakers very emotional and really shows how some act made him feel for example he said when he saw the pictures his throat turned to ice.

The image created in my mind is of a sad man struggling with a break up sat on his own in a sad cold dark room with his palms on his face.

There is no rhyme in this poem it is more about a break up and struggling post break up.

The theme of this poem is of a man sat in his room going through all the picture and stuff left over from a break up and describing how each thing he sees hurts worse and worse.

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F- Lines: 24, Stanzas: 0, informal (its talking about what to give to her best friend)

L- Repeating words: Like, Best Freind, its repetitive in most words and there is not similies and metaphors

I - I see very specific images when reading this, i see houses, money, a girl. It has so many things i cant really think of it all

R - No rhyme it is pretty different words and there is no rhythm because i dont feel a beat.

T - The poems topic is about a person presumably a girl taling about her girl best friend who has a crush on this boy and the speaker is saying how the boy needs to give her loads of stuff because her best friend is worth it.

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My best friend is in love with youand you must build her a housebecause she’s my best friendand she’s in love with youshe aligns herself to your thoughtsjust like the magi to th…

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ALWAYS, I'VE LOVED BIG CARS

F: 18 lines 9 stanza some are short sone are long.

L:  informal language, no repetition of words.

I:  It is very cold hearted and dark.

R: no is no rhyme and the rhythm changes in each stanza

T:  The theme is about love and the topic is all about his love for big cars. The tone is quite aggressive and cold.

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Winter trudge, cycle’s promise, no words as wellbut parliamentary speechesthen sirens, the coldnessof the jerseyless knocking,It seems,I’ve got no time for love.No beauty riddle…

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Yankunytjatjara Love Poems - by Ali Cobby Eckermann

there is love in the wind by the singing rock

down the river by the ancient tree

love in kangaroo goanna and emu

love when spirits speak no human voice

at the sacred sites eyes unblemished

watch wedge tail eagle soar over hidden water

find the love

Analysis

This poem is themed around the everlasting nature of love and the mysterious feelings associated with it. The poem also represents the notion that love can be found in a wide range of places. The poem has 1 stanza and 7 lines. It is relatively short compared to the other poems in the series (this poem is number 4 out of 5 poems). All lines are around the same, with the exception of the last line. This line is considerably shorter than the others in order to emphasize the phrase “find the love”. The poem makes use of a few different literary devices. The phrase “singing rock” is an example of personification and “hidden water” is an example of a metaphor. These metaphors add emotion to the poem and improve the imagery involved in the piece. The poem has a large amount of imagery related to nature. The phrases “singing rock”, ”love in the wind” and “down the river by the ancient tree” relate love to nature. By linking love to nature, the narrator infers that love is everlasting and beautiful. The poem does not include any rhyme, however, I believe that the literary devices used in the poem add an engaging rhythm to the piece.

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Form/structure

Mostly freeform but with a few lines that might be a stanza. It’s meant to be where one person says it then the other person responds.

Language

Informal as if talking to someone they love and know. Repeats the one phrase “I know that you know”and other slight alterations.

Imagery

It  brings up a scene of a couple trying to argue in a friendly way about who loves who knows who loves each other then finally settling it with “ I knew it”.

Rhyme/Rhythm

The poem is very repetitive barely varying from the base phrase. It's almost lulling and hypnotic.

Theme/tone/

topic

The theme is about Love. There are two speakers who are presumably a couple.The poem is in a friendly and flirty tone.

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– I love you. – Me too.– I know.– I know that you know.– I know that you know that I know that you know.– And for my part I know that you know that I love you.– I know that you…