Logan+C

Spirits of the Dead By Edgar Allan Poe

Thy soul shall find itself alone 'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone -- Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy: Be silent in that solitude Which is not loneliness -- for then The spirits of the dead who stood In life before thee are again In death around thee -- and their will Shall then overshadow thee: be still.

For the night -- tho' clear -- shall frown -- And the stars shall look not down, From their high thrones in the Heaven, With light like Hope to mortals given -- But their red orbs, without beam, To thy weariness shall seem As a burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever :

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish -- Now are visions ne'er to vanish -- From thy spirit shall they pass No more -- like dew-drop from the grass:

The breeze -- the breath of God -- is still -- And the mist upon the hill Shadowy -- shadowy -- yet unbroken, Is a symbol and a token -- How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries! -- This poem is talking about night time and how everything looks different and acts different. It also talks about symbols and tokens. plus the story is a mystery. alliteration and rhyme.

Blues by Elizabeth Alexander

I am lazy, the laziest girl in the world. I sleep during the day when I want to, 'til my face is creased and swollen, 'til my lips are dry and hot. I eat as I please: cookies and milk after lunch, butter and sour cream on my baked potato, foods that slothful people eat, that turn yellow and opaque beneath the skin. Sometimes come dinnertime Sunday I am still in my nightgown, the one with the lace trim listing because I have not mended it. Many days I do not exercise, only consider it, then rub my curdy belly and lie down. Even my poems are lazy. I use syllabics instead of iambs, prefer slant to the gong of full rhyme, write briefly while others go for pages. And yesterday, for example, I did not work at all! I got in my car and I drove to factory outlet stores, purchased stockings and panties and socks with my father's money. To think, in childhood I missed only one day of school per year. I went to ballet class four days a week at four-forty-five and on Saturdays, beginning always with plie, ending with curtsy. To think, I knew only industry, the industry of my race and of immigrants, the radio tuned always to the station that said, Line up your summer job months in advance. Work hard and do not shame your family, who worked hard to give you what you have. There is no sin but sloth. Burn to a wick and keep moving. I avoided sleep for years, up at night replaying evening news stories about nearby jailbreaks, fat people who ate fried chicken and woke up dead. In sleep I am looking for poems in the shape of open V's of birds flying in formation, or open arms saying, I forgive you, all. This poem is about the laziest girl in the world. it talks about how her face is creases. her lips are swollen. imagery Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. //I// was a child and //she// was a child, In this kingdom by the sea: But we loved with a love that was more than love-- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me-- Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we-- Of many far wiser than we-- And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea.

this story is talking about a maiden. how her name was annabel lee. and a kingdom by the sea. alliteration

Monster by skillet

The secret side of me, I never let you see I keep it caged but I can't control it So stay away from me, the beast is ugly I feel the rage and I just can't hold it

It's scratching on the walls, in the closet, in the halls It comes awake and I can't control it Hiding under the bed, in my body, in my head Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?

I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin I must confess that I feel like a monster I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun I must confess that I feel like a monster imagery