The Life Of A Cupcake
They put me in the oven to bake.
Me a deprived and miserable cake.
Feeling the heat I started to bubble.
Watching the others I knew I was in trouble
They opened the door and I started my life.
Frosting me with a silver knife.
Decorating me with candy jewels.
The rest of my batch looked like fools.
Lifting me up, she took off my wrapper.
Feeling the breeze, I wanted to slap her.
Opening her mouth with shiny teeth inside.
This was the day this cupcake had died
Me a deprived and miserable cake.
Feeling the heat I started to bubble.
Watching the others I knew I was in trouble
They opened the door and I started my life.
Frosting me with a silver knife.
Decorating me with candy jewels.
The rest of my batch looked like fools.
Lifting me up, she took off my wrapper.
Feeling the breeze, I wanted to slap her.
Opening her mouth with shiny teeth inside.
This was the day this cupcake had died
Alliteration:
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers How many pickled peppers did Peter Piper pick?
Onomatopoeia:
Brothers
My boys are my brothers
Without the aid of my father and my mother.
They don’t bounce when the bullets fly.
They stand up straight when my enemies drive by.
Many are called friends;
Fewer are called brothers -
A homey who gives his life for another.
Without the aid of my father and my mother.
They don’t bounce when the bullets fly.
They stand up straight when my enemies drive by.
Many are called friends;
Fewer are called brothers -
A homey who gives his life for another.
Simile:
Your teeth are like stars;
They come out at night.
They come back at dawn
When they’re ready to bite
Metaphor:
The Rose
The sun went away
The sky went black
Up came the wind
I fell on my back
It started to rain
I began to sink
Then I lifted my head
And took a drink
I perked myself up
And said "please don't cry"
And wiped off my petals
Until they were dry
The clouds soon parted
And out came the sun
The beauty in me
Has only begun.
The sky went black
Up came the wind
I fell on my back
It started to rain
I began to sink
Then I lifted my head
And took a drink
I perked myself up
And said "please don't cry"
And wiped off my petals
Until they were dry
The clouds soon parted
And out came the sun
The beauty in me
Has only begun.
Hyperbole:
Appetite
In a house the size of a postage stamp
lived a man as big as a barge.
His mouth could drink the entire river
You could say it was rather large
For dinner he would eat a trillion beans
And a silo full of grain,
Washed it down with a tanker of milk
lived a man as big as a barge.
His mouth could drink the entire river
You could say it was rather large
For dinner he would eat a trillion beans
And a silo full of grain,
Washed it down with a tanker of milk
As if he were a drain.
Personification:
Hey diddle, Diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon;
The little dog laughed
To see such sport,
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
Symbolism:
Imagery:
he winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o'clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.
Free Verse:
The fog comes
and then moves on.
Allusion:
Simplicity:
A strong drink sits idle in my glass. Two doves sit on the porch and watch me. They warble with great enthusiasm, puffy sirens of the hills. Their language hides the meaning of their words, like the elegant attire worn by common folk. They have everything they need, each other and a nest. A perfect wordless marriage. Communication only through song, and songs for all of nature to enjoy. The grandest love story ever told.
Rhythm:
'Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?
Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!
Oh, some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!
No comments:
Post a Comment