Literary ReflectionsLiterary Reflections

«The Hill We Climb»

ΦΩΤΕΙΝΟΠΟΥΛΟΥ ΑΝΑΣΤΑΣΙΑ — Fri, 22 Jan 2021 22:14:01 +0000

«The Hill We Climb» is a poem written and recited by Amanda Gorman at the inauguration of Joe Biden on January 20, 2021. At twenty-two years of age she is the youngest inaugural poet ever and her poem and recital performance will be vividly remembered for years to come.

When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade.
We’ve braved the belly of the beast,
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace,
and the norms and notions
of what just is
isn’t always just-ice.
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t broken,
but simply unfinished.
We the successors of a country and a time
where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming president
only to find herself reciting for one.
And yes we are far from polished.
Far from pristine.
But that doesn’t mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge a union with purpose,
to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and
conditions of man.
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us,
but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,
we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms
so we can reach out our arms
to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true,
that even as we grieved, we grew,
that even as we hurt, we hoped,
that even as we tired, we tried,
that we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat,
but because we will never again sow division.
Scripture tells us to envision
that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
and no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time,
then victory won’t lie in the blade.
But in all the bridges we’ve made,
that is the promise to glade,
the hill we climb.
If only we dare.
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit,
it’s the past we step into
and how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
rather than share it.
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed,
it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth,
in this faith we trust.
For while we have our eyes on the future,
history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption
we feared at its inception.
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hour
but within it we found the power
to author a new chapter.
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So while once we asked,
how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert,
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was,
but move to what shall be.
A country that is bruised but whole,
benevolent but bold,
fierce and free.
We will not be turned around
or interrupted by intimidation,
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain,
If we merge mercy with might,
and might with right,
then love becomes our legacy,
and change our children’s birthright.
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with.
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west.
We will rise from the windswept northeast,
where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.
We will rise from the sunbaked south.
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,
battered and beautiful.
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid,
the new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Haiku Poems

ΦΩΤΕΙΝΟΠΟΥΛΟΥ ΑΝΑΣΤΑΣΙΑ — Fri, 22 Jan 2021 21:47:14 +0000

What Is a Haiku?

Haiku is a form of Japanese poetry made of short, unrhymed lines that evoke natural imagery. Haiku can come in a variety of different formats of short verses, though the most common is a three-line poem with a 5-7-5 syllable pattern.

The entire poem consists of just three lines, with 17 syllables in total
The first line is 5 syllables
The second line is 7 syllables
The third line is 5 syllables

4 Common Themes of Haiku Poetry

Nature themes and imagery evoking a specific season are the traditional focus of haiku poetry. Haiku poems often feature juxtaposition of two images.

Nature and the seasons. Describing the season was the original purpose of haiku, and to this day poets often focus on the natural world and how it changes throughout the year.
On. A Japanese haiku contains 17 on, or sounds. On are counted differently than syllables in English, which leads to translators’ lack of consensus on whether 17 English syllables truly captures the spirit of haiku.
Kigo. Traditional haiku contains a kigo, a word or phrase that places it in a particular season. Signaling a season with only one word lends haiku its economy of expression. Some of the most classic kigo are sakura (cherry blossoms) for spring; fuji (Wisteria) for summer; tsuki (moon) for fall; and samushi (cold) for winter.
Kireji. Known in English as the “cutting word,” kireji creates a pause or a break in the rhythm of the poem. The kireji is often deployed to juxtapose two images. Contemporary haiku may not always use a kireji, but juxtaposition remains a common feature of haiku.

“The Old Pond” by Matsuo Bashō

An old silent pond

A frog jumps into the pond—

Splash! Silence again.

“A Poppy Blooms” by Katsushika Hokusai

I write, erase, rewrite

Erase again, and then

A poppy blooms.

Acrostic Poems

ΦΩΤΕΙΝΟΠΟΥΛΟΥ ΑΝΑΣΤΑΣΙΑ — Fri, 22 Jan 2021 21:38:18 +0000

An acrostic poem is a poem where certain letters in each line spell out a word or phrase. Typically, the first letters of each line are used to spell a word or phrase. Here are some examples.

FEAR

Frightening

Eerie and strange

Anxiety rises

Ready to flee

SPRING

Sunny days

Plants awakening

Raindrops on the roof

Interesting clouds

New flowers

Gray skies

Nothing beats writing a poem with someone’s name,too. For inspiration, check out these acrostic poem examples where the letters spell out someone’s name.

BETTY

Beaming, so joyful

Elegant, so graceful

Tantalizing, thrilling the senses

Thorough, attentive to details

Yearning, a drive to succeed

SOPHIA

Serene, a calming quality

Organized, you always have it together

Picturesque, strikingly beautiful

Honest, so genuine

Imaginative, a creative mind

Alluring, so attractive

ROBERTO

Rebellious, going against the grain

Oomph, you have a magnetic draw

Buoyant, abound with energy

Enchanting, a charming presence

Reassuring, a comforting presence

Trustworthy, your word is good as gold

Obliging, willing to accommodate

WILLIAM

Worthy, your friendship is a gift

Illustrious, bright and accomplished

Lively, the life of the party

Light-hearted, you have an easy laughter

Inspirational, the ability to motivate

Approachable, people turn to you for help

Merry, abundant joy

Acrostic Poem Examples from Literature

Several famous authors have written acrostic poems over the years, and these can be great examples of what you can do with this unique type of poem. Some even use a rhyme scheme in addition to the acrostic form.

«An Acrostic» by Edgar Allan Poe…

Elizabeth it is in vain you say

«Love not» – thou sayest it in so sweet a way:

In vain those words from thee or L. E. L.

Zantippe’s talents had enforced so well:

Ah! if that language from thy heart arise,

Breathe it less gently forth – and veil thine eyes.

Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried

To cure his love – was cured of all beside -

His folly – pride – and passion – for he died.

From «Georgiana Augusta Keats» by John Keats…

Kind sister! aye, this third name says you are;

Enchanted has it been the Lord knows where;

And may it taste to you like good old wine,

Take you to real happiness and give

Sons, daughters and a home like honied hive.

«Acrostic» by Lewis Carroll…

Little maidens, when you look

On this little story-book,

Reading with attentive eye

Its enticing history,

Never think that hours of play

Are your only HOLIDAY. (Lorina)

And that in a HOUSE of joy

Lessons serve but to annoy:

If in any HOUSE you find

Children of a gentle mind,

Each the others pleasing ever. (Alice)

Each the others vexing never-

Daily work and pastime daily

In their order taking gaily-

Then be very sure that they

Have a life of HOLIDAY. (Edith)

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