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RIDDLENESS OF POETRY

RIDDLENESS OF POETRY. Where far in the forest I am laid, In a place round by stones, Look for no melancholy shade, And have no thoughts of buried bones;

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Page 1: RIDDLENESS OF POETRY. Where far in the forest I am laid, In a place round by stones, Look for no melancholy shade, And have no thoughts of buried bones;

RIDDLENESS OF POETRY

Page 2: RIDDLENESS OF POETRY. Where far in the forest I am laid, In a place round by stones, Look for no melancholy shade, And have no thoughts of buried bones;

Where far in the forest I am laid,In a place round by stones,Look for no melancholy shade,And have no thoughts of buried bones;For I am bodiless and bright,And fill the glade with glow;The leaves are washed in the under-light,Shade lies upon the boughs like snow.

A CAMPFIRE

Page 3: RIDDLENESS OF POETRY. Where far in the forest I am laid, In a place round by stones, Look for no melancholy shade, And have no thoughts of buried bones;

Metaphors

I'm a riddle in nine syllables, An elephant, a ponderous house, A melon strolling on two tendrils. O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers! This loaf's big with its yeasty rising. Money's new-minted in this fat purse. I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf. I've eaten a bag of green apples, Boarded the train there's no getting off.

Sylvia Plath

PREGNANCY

Page 4: RIDDLENESS OF POETRY. Where far in the forest I am laid, In a place round by stones, Look for no melancholy shade, And have no thoughts of buried bones;

In the heel of my thumbare whorls, whirls, wheelsin a unique design:mine alone.What a treasure to own!My own flesh, my own feelings.No other, however grand or base,can ever contain the same.My signature,thumbing the pages of my time.My universe key,my singularity.Impress, implant,I am myself,of all my atom parts I am the sum.And out of my blood and my brainI make my own interior weather,my own sun and rain.Imprint my mark upon the world,whatever I shall become.

THUMBPRINTByEve Merriam

Page 5: RIDDLENESS OF POETRY. Where far in the forest I am laid, In a place round by stones, Look for no melancholy shade, And have no thoughts of buried bones;

There sits on your wallA two-headed, framed totem pole

Staring with its two sets of eyesStanding at attention

Awaiting a connectionTo bring your lifeless world to life.

An electrical outlet

Page 6: RIDDLENESS OF POETRY. Where far in the forest I am laid, In a place round by stones, Look for no melancholy shade, And have no thoughts of buried bones;

O little soldier with the golden helmetWhat are you guarding on my lawn?You with your green gunAnd your yellow beard,Why do stand so stiff?There is only the grass to fight!

DANDELION

Page 7: RIDDLENESS OF POETRY. Where far in the forest I am laid, In a place round by stones, Look for no melancholy shade, And have no thoughts of buried bones;

I received last Christmas a most unusual book.To finish to the end, an entire year it took.Twelve pages long, it dragged the whole way,

But I was drawn to reading it almost everyday.Fascinating pictures but the story didn’t fit;Weird story too, for it was I who had to write it.

So I hung it on the wall like a window I couldn’t see throughExcept to see the future and my life at a view.It helps me remember things that haven’t happened yet;

By using a well-known code, the chapters are preset.Very useful book, I think I’ll give it away this Christmas.Will it be found as useful or only second-class?

CALENDAR