OK now this is the Narrative and Dramatic poetry section. The first two poems are the Narrative Poems. Drinking Alone Under the Moon by Li Bai talks about the relationship of a person and the moon. The second Narrative poem, On Turning Ten, by Billy Collins, talks about how a kid feels sorry that he is starting to get older. The Dramatic poem is Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister by Robert Browning. It is a little harder to understand than all of the other poems, but it is about how a man hates things around him.
Drinking ALone under the Moon By Li Bai
Among the flowers from a pot of wine I drink alone beneath the bright moonshine. I raise my cup to invite the moon, who blends Her light with my shadow and we're three friends. The moon does not know how to drink her share; In vain my shadow follows me here and there. Together with them for the time I stay And make merry before spring's spend away. I sing the moon to linger with my song; MY shadow disperses as I dance along. Sober, we three remain cheerful and gay; Drunken, we part and each goes his way. Our friendship will outshine all earthly love; Next time we'll meet beyond the stars above.
Personification= in this whole poem the moon is personified as a person because it wants to drink with the man. Imagery- The imagery in this poem is very straightforward, there is a man sitting underneath a tree and he is lonely so he starts to talk to the moon and to his shadow. Rhyme Scheme- There is an end rhyme in this poem because the last word of every line rhymes with the next.
On Turning Ten By Billy CollinsThe whole idea of it makes me feel like I'm coming down with something, somethin worse than any stomache ache or the headaches I get from reading in bad light-- a kind of measles of the spirit, a mumps of the psyche, a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul. You tell me its too early to be looking back, but that is because you have forgotten the perfect simplicity of being one and the beautiful complexity introduced by two. But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit. At four I was an Arabian wizard. I could make myself invisible by drinking a glass of milk a certain way. At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince. But now I am mostly at the window watching the late afternoon light. Back then it never fell so solemnly against the side of my tree house, and my bicycle never leaned against the garage as it does today, all the dark blue speed drained out of it. This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself, as I walk through the universe in my sneakers. It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends, time to turn the first big number. It seems only Yesterday I used to believe there was nothing under my skin but light. If you cut me I could shine. But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life, I skin my kness. I bleed.
Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister By. Robert BrowningGr-r-r---there you go, my heart's abhorrence! Water your damned flower-pots do! If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, God's blook, would not mind kill you! What? you myrtle bush needs trimming? Oh, that rose has prior claims--- Needs its leaden vase filled brimming? Hell dry you up with its flames! At the meal we sit together: Salve tibi! I must hear Wise talk of the kind of weather, Sort of season, time of year: Not a plenteous cork-crop: scarcely Dare we hope oak-galls, I doubt: What's the Latin name for 'Parsley'? What's the Greek name for Swine's Snout? Wher! We'll have our platter burnished, Laid with care on our own shelf! With a fire-new spoon we'ver furnished, ANd a goblet for ourself, Rinsed like something sacrificial Ere'tis fit to touch our chaps--- Marked with L. for our initial! (He-he! there his lily snaps!) Saint, forsooth! While brown Dolores Squats outside the Convent bank With Sanchicha, telling stores, Steeping tresses in the tank, Blue-black, lustrous, think like horsehairs, ---Can't I see his dead eye glow, Bright as 'twere a Babary corsair's? (That is, if he'd let it show!) When he finishes reflection Knife and fork he never lays Cross-wise, to my recollection, As I do, in Jesu's praise.Onomatopoeia- This is the first word in the sentence. The author is showing his anger by saing Gr-r-r-r.