Creative Writing: Poetry, Lesson One

[geoff-chaucer.livejournal.com]

Tuesday, January 10, 8th period

Just as he was yesterday although none of you know that, Geoff is leaning against the front of his desk and waiting for his new students to arrive. Once everyone is assembled, he greets the class.

"Welcome to Creative Writing: Poetry. As you've probably already figured out by the fact that I'm standing up here and you're all sitting in chairs, I'm Professor Chaucer. First I want to tell you a few things about the class. There aren't very many of you, so I'd prefer it if you all sat near one another -- in fact, the seats can be moved into whatever configuration we all feel comfortable with, so there's no need for anyone to be stuck off alone in the back. Also, I want to point out the book closet behind me -- you can find all of the texts you need for the assigned readings there, plus some additional materials if you're interested. The books here on the bookcase are also available for reading, but I'd prefer you don't remove those from this wing of the school. My office is just off the classroom here, and I'll be holding office hours at least twice a week, possibly more if I get very bored.

"You can pick up a copy of the assigned readings and grading structure here on my desk as you leave today. Class discussions will pertain to those readings, and participation in the discussions is part of your grade, so please make certain you do the reading. As this is a class on writing poetry, there will also be frequent writing assignments, as well as an end-of-term assignment on which I'll go into more detail later.

All right, let's move on to today's class. There are three things I need you to do for me today.

1. Introduce yourself, and tell the class why you're taking Creative Writing.

2. Choose two people in the room and ask each of them a question. Any question, but let's keep things civil. I'm included in the category of 'people in the room'.

3. Hopefully you all saw my notice and brought a poem with you to class. If you didn't, take a minute to step up to the bookcase and find yourself one. I'd like each of you to read your poem aloud to the class, and then tell us why you chose that particular poem.

Once you've finished the above assignments, feel free to use the remainder of today's class period to begin your assigned reading for the next lesson."

Assignment for Next Week: Read the first ten poems in Petrarch's Canzoniere and Shakespeare's sonnets numbers 13, 18, 20, 35, 71, 75, 83, 89, 96, 130, and 137. Choose one sonnet by each author, and come prepared to discuss a comparison of them in class.

[OOC: A couple of important points. For people in other time zones and with RL concerns, you'll have until Saturday each week to make your comments for class. If you know ahead of time you won't be available for a class, just drop me a note in my voicemail and let me know. You're allowed one unexcused absence without penalty. After that, you'll get at F for that lesson unless you arrange with me for make-up work. I don't assign detention unless there's a real problem, so don't be afraid to come and see me about missed classes.]

Class Roster
oatmanspatient
teen_twin
12parseckessel
time_agent
kikidelivers(TA)
death_n_binky
sharon_valerii
future_visions
Auditing: gotcanewillpoke (What? You tell him he can't.)

Comments

Re: READ YOUR POEM

[anextimeagent.livejournal.com]

An Overworked Elocutionist
by Carolyn Wells (1869-1942)

Once there was a little boy whose name was Robert Reese;
And every Friday afternoon he had to speak a piece.
So many poems thus he learned, that soon he had a store
Of recitations in his head and still kept learning more.

And now this is what happened: He was called upon one week
And totally forgot the piece he was about to speak.
He brain he cudgeled. Not a word remained within his head!
And so he spoke at random, and this is what he said:

"Oh beautiful, oh beautiful, who standest proudly by,
It was the schooner Hesperus--the breaking waves dashed high!
Why is this Forum crowded? What means this stir in Rome?
Under a spreading chestnut tree, there is no place like home!

When freedom from her mountain height cried, "Twinkle, little star,"
Shoot if you must this old gray head, King Henry of Navarre!
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue castled crag of Drachenfels,
My name is Norval, on the Grampain Hills, ring out, wild bells!

If you're waking, call me early, to be or not to be,
The curfew must not ring tonight! Oh, woodman, spare that tree!
Charge, Chester, charge! Oh, Stanley, on! and let who will be clever!
The boy stood on the burning deck, but I go on forever!"

His elocution was superb, his voice and gestures fine;
His schoolmates all applauded as he finished the last line.
"I see it doesn't matter," Robert thought, "what words I say,
So long as I declaim with oratorical display."

Selected because the mun has receited this since before she knew what most of the referances were it was the first poem Jack found in the book.

Re: READ YOUR POEM

[kikidelivers.livejournal.com]

As Jack finishes the poem, Kiki is grinning widely and appreciatively.


[ooc: OMG what an awesome poem!!!!!]