Kaelee+L



Edgar Allan Poe: A dream within a dream Poetic Device:Rhyme

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow: You are not wrong who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">And I hold within my hand <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Grains of the golden sand-- <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">How few! yet how they creep <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Through my fingers to the deep, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">While I weep--while I weep! <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">O God! can I not grasp <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Them with a tighter clasp? <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">O God! can I not save //<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">One //<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';"> from the pitiless wave? <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">Is //all// that we see or seem <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">But a dream within a dream? <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif';">The poetic device that is used in this poem is rhyme. The overall meaning of the poem would be that the concept of life is huge and very hard to understand so i think that is what he is feeling that the world is so big he is confused and cant tell whats real and whats not. Adrienne Rich: Diving into the wreck

First having read the book of myths, and loaded the camera, and checked the edge of the knife-blade, I put on the body-armor of black rubber the absurd flippers the grave and awkward mask. I am having to do this not like Cousteau with his assiduous team aboard the sun-flooded schooner but here alone.

There is a ladder. The ladder is always there hanging innocently close to the side of the schooner. We know what it is for, we who have used it. Otherwise it is a piece of maritime floss some sundry equipment.

I go down. Rung after rung and still the oxygen immerses me the blue light the clear atoms of our human air. I go down. My flippers cripple me, I crawl like an insect down the ladder and there is no one to tell me when the ocean will begin.

First the air is blue and then it is bluer and then green and then black I am blacking out and yet my mask is powerful it pumps my blood with power the sea is another story the sea is not a question of power I have to learn alone to turn my body without force in the deep element.

And now: it is easy to forget what I came for among so many who have always lived here swaying their crenellated fans between the reefs and besides you breathe differently down here.

I came to explore the wreck. The words are purposes. The words are maps. I came to see the damage that was done and the treasures that prevail. I stroke the beam of my lamp slowly along the flank of something more permanent than fish or weed

the thing I came for: the wreck and not the story of the wreck the thing itself and not the myth the drowned face always staring toward the sun the evidence of damage worn by salt and away into this threadbare beauty the ribs of the disaster curving their assertion among the tentative haunters.

This is the place. And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair streams black, the merman in his armored body. We circle silently about the wreck we dive into the hold. I am she: I am he

whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes whose breasts still bear the stress whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies obscurely inside barrels half-wedged and left to rot we are the half-destroyed instruments that once held to a course the water-eaten log the fouled compass

We are, I am, you are by cowardice or courage the one who find our way back to this scene carrying a knife, a camera a book of myths in which our names do not appear. I believe that this poem is trying to describe what its like to go scuba diving. The person is brave for doing so and it is also trying to portray life under water rather than being on land. Dylan Thomas: Light breaks where no sun shines.

Light breaks where no sun shines; Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart Push in their tides; And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads, The things of light File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.

A candle in the thighs Warms youth and seed and burns the seeds of age; Where no seed stirs, The fruit of man unwrinkles in the stars, Bright as a fig; Where no wax is, the candle shows its hairs.

Dawn breaks behind the eyes; From poles of skull and toe the windy blood Slides like a sea; Nor fenced, nor staked, the gushers of the sky Spout to the rod Divining in a smile the oil of tears.

Night in the sockets rounds, Like some pitch moon, the limit of the globes; Day lights the bone; Where no cold is, the skinning gales unpin The winter's robes; The film of spring is hanging from the lids.

Light breaks on secret lots, On tips of thought where thoughts smell in the rain; When logics dies, The secret of the soil grows through the eye, And blood jumps in the sun; Above the waste allotments the dawn halts I believe that this is describing that when your in a dark place dont get yourself to down because there is always a light to pick you back up again.Its also saying that there is secrets in the dark and when you come into the light those secrets come out.