B - 9/30/2013
A - 10/01/2013
Check homework & discuss questions from "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings"
Words to Know
irony
symbolize
satire
imagery
What is a(n English/Shakespearean) Sonnet?
14 lines long
10 syllables in each line (usually in iambic pentameter)
rhyme-scheme = abab cdcd efef gg
Read & Discuss "Sonnet for Heaven Below" by Jack Agüeros
Homework:
Read Pablo Neruda's poem "Lost in the Forest" (below) and answer the following questions in complete sentences.
Questions
Lost in the Forest
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood--
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
~Pablo Neruda
A - 10/01/2013
Check homework & discuss questions from "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings"
Words to Know
irony
symbolize
satire
imagery
What is a(n English/Shakespearean) Sonnet?
14 lines long
10 syllables in each line (usually in iambic pentameter)
rhyme-scheme = abab cdcd efef gg
Read & Discuss "Sonnet for Heaven Below" by Jack Agüeros
Homework:
Read Pablo Neruda's poem "Lost in the Forest" (below) and answer the following questions in complete sentences.
Questions
- How does this poem illustrate the qualities of magical realism?
- Which images in the poem stand out to you or surprise you? Why?
- A paradox is a figure of speech in which a statement seems to contradict itself. What examples of paradox can you find in the poem below? What do you think the poet means?
- Do you think this poem reflects Latin American or Chilean culture? Why or why not?
Lost in the Forest
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood--
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
~Pablo Neruda