2006
Monday, 5/5/14
* Open
1999 Poem: “Blackberry-Picking”
Prompt: Read the following poem carefully, paying particular attention to the physical intensity of the language. Then write a well-organized essay in which you explain how the poet conveys not just a literal description of picking blackberries but a deeper understanding of the whole experience. You may wish to include analysis of such elements as diction, imagery, metaphor, rhyme, rhythm, and form.
Blackberry-Picking
by Seamus Heaney
Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn’t fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they’d keep, knew they would not.
- Grammar: Go to Bedford
- Punctuation: Find and note one thing about semicolons or dashes that you forgot or did not know.
- Grammar Basics: Review adjectives and adverbs. Is "not" an adjective or an adverb?
- Perrine's 777, 812
1999 Poem: “Blackberry-Picking”
Prompt: Read the following poem carefully, paying particular attention to the physical intensity of the language. Then write a well-organized essay in which you explain how the poet conveys not just a literal description of picking blackberries but a deeper understanding of the whole experience. You may wish to include analysis of such elements as diction, imagery, metaphor, rhyme, rhythm, and form.
Blackberry-Picking
by Seamus Heaney
Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn’t fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they’d keep, knew they would not.
The Waterboys: "Strange Boat"
"Strange Boat"
We're sailing on a strange boat,
Heading for a strange shore.
We're sailing on a strange boat,
Heading for a strange shore
Carrying the strangest cargo
That was ever hauled aboard.
We're sailing on a strange boat,
Heading for a strange shore.
We're sailing on a strange boat,
Heading for a strange shore
Carrying the strangest cargo
That was ever hauled aboard.
We're sailing on a strange sea,
Blown by a strange wind.
We're sailing on a strange sea,
Blown by a strange wind
Carrying the strangest crew
That ever sinned.
Blown by a strange wind.
We're sailing on a strange sea,
Blown by a strange wind
Carrying the strangest crew
That ever sinned.
We're riding in a strange car;
We're followin' a strange star;
We're climbing on the strangest ladder
That was ever there to climb.
We're followin' a strange star;
We're climbing on the strangest ladder
That was ever there to climb.
We're living in a strange time,
Working for a strange goal.
We're living in a strange time,
Working for a strange goal.
We're turning flesh and body
Into soul.
Working for a strange goal.
We're living in a strange time,
Working for a strange goal.
We're turning flesh and body
Into soul.
Songwriters
SCOTT, MICHAEL/THISTLETHWAITE, ANTHONY SILVESTER
SCOTT, MICHAEL/THISTLETHWAITE, ANTHONY SILVESTER
Published by
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC
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