respond in writing to the text. what is the meaning of this picture? analyze for sensory detail,...

Respond in writing to the text. What is the meaning of this picture? Analyze for sensory detail, theme, and purpose. How can an image be distorted by individual perception? How can we translate the image into words?

Paul Casper. 2005.

I'm nobody! Who are you?Are you nobody, too?Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!They'd advertise -- you know!

 How dreary to be somebody!How public like a frogTo tell one's name the livelong dayTo an admiring bog!

garryhobartphoto.com

A drop fell on the apple tree

Another on the roof;A half a dozen kissed the

eaves,And made the gables

laugh. 

A few went out to help the brook

,That went to help the sea.Myself conjectured, Were

they pearls,What necklaces could be! 

The dust replaced in hoistedRoaThe birds jocoser sung;The sunshine threw his hat

away,The orchards spangles hung. 

The breezes brought dejectedAnd bathed them in the glee;The East put out a single flag,And signed the fete away.

Anna Pickard. 2007. guardian.co.uk,

THE SOUL selects her own Society--Then-- shuts the Door--On her divine Majority--Present no more--   

Unmoved-- she notes the Chariots-- pausing         At her low Gate-- Unmoved-- an emperor be kneeling Upon her Mat--   

I ’ve known her-- from an ample nation --Choose One--       Then-- close the Valves of her attention --Like Stone--

http://www.flickr.com/photos/rcbpoetry/3233717334/

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant---Success in Circuit liesToo bright for our infirm DelightThe Truth's superb surpriseAs Lightening to the Children easedWith explanation kindThe Truth must dazzle graduallyOr every man be blind---

Melissa Pham2/27/08

BECAUSE I could not stop for Death -He kindly stopped for me – The carriage held but just Ourselves

—And Immortality.   

We slowly drove— he knew no haste,         

And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his Civility—  We passed the School where

children stroveAt Recess - in the Ring -         We passed the Fields of Gazing

Grain—We passed the Setting Sun—   

Or rather– He passed Us—The Dews drew quivering and chill—For only Gossamer, my Gown—My Tippet– Only Tulle—

We paused before a House that seemed

A swelling of the Ground—The Roof was scarcely visible—    The Cornice– in the Ground—

Since then --’tis centuries– and yetFeels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses’ Heads Were toward Eternity--