"The Best Time of Year"By: Molly EdwardsI wake up and the air is crispAll day, all that they watch is football.My bed is like being in a warm cozy sweater. SimileI do not want to get up, but I smell the pieMy mother is baking, next to all the colorsOf candles whose smell I love.This is the time of year I love.OH my how I love that apple crisp,All of the crazy cool colors AlliterationOn the players playing football,The delicious taste of that pumpkin pie,And my stylish seasonal sweater.I put on my favorite sweaterTo go to my grandma's whom I love,But I have to bring her the pieThat has not grown legs and left the crisp Personificationclean counter. I can't watch footballnow, or play in the leave's different colors.I organized all of the colors AssonanceOf all of my crazy sweatersAnd grabbed my favorite to play football.All of my cousins play. We all loveThe wonderful game out in the crispAir. with bellies full of pie.The homemade wonderful tasting pieMade with so many fruity colors. ImageryThe conversations were so crispAnd clear around dinner. Grandpa's sweatergot food on it though, but his loveOf food made it ok while watching football.The killing of our team in football HyperboleMade us all need some more pieThat everyone said they had loveFor. Especially all of the pretty colors.My aunt said she liked my sweaterWhich I ironed to make nice and crisp.Fall is amazing football, air that is crisp, DictionAll of the family love, the beautiful colors,The sweet taste of pie, and comfy sweaters.
Molly is the only one who gets bonus points yayyyy! :D
Rambling on Fall By: Caleb PuntI sit under a tree breathing in the crisp airGazing at my surroundings the tree, the sky, a white rockMy body is sprawled, relaxed over the grassIn the distance I hear the babbling call of a duckRejoicing in weather so mildWhen the usual tormentor is our friend, aren't you Oh Mighty Sun?The compassion of that sunMakes such a pleasure of the airAnd nature appears not mild But blazingly pretty like a precious rockSeeing this beauty does the duckAnd calmly continues toward the grassAnother memory does bring the grassa memory where lights take the place of the sunA brutal backer beckons and I prepare to duckAway from the blow which threatens to take my airOut of my body and replace it with a cold rockDisplacing of which will not be mildI take in the joy of the season mildBreathing in the smell of autumn grassSomehow remaining lively under even rockor the beating barrage of the sunIt makes such a sweet aroma of the airPleasing to all creatures, from man to duckSuch a queer animal is the duck,At times cross others mild,Who pokes his head into the airAnd lets a call out over the water to the grassCalling from the river as if to the sun"I need a resting place, a branch, stone or rock."And a refuge it finds, a rockSo steady to please the duckAnd with a plant to shelter from sunCreates a calm and mildSanctuary away from precious grassIn the River where water is wet and air cold.Fall, when over cool rock floats crisp air,When mighty sun becomes mildAnd the duck ventures from the familiar grass.1. Apostrophe2. Metaphor3. Alliteration4. Alliteration5. Personification6. Amplification7. Anthropomorphism
Red, yellow, orange.They fall around me as they singof the secrets of both life and deathfound coupled in this crisp season.O how I long to join this song of oldas I lie under the vast tree.This ancient tree,like many before, have viewed sunsets orangeand tell how all the angels of oldcompose a song of life and singhow life is like past seasonswhich are wise, beautifully aged, and old.As Autumn beholds winter's deathat its footstep, the vitality of life is seen in the oak tree.Though it loses its leaves in season,its legacy of orangecauses poets' and songwriters' souls to join in and singthat ancient choir's song.Young and oldrally together in this season to enjoy life as well as death,knowing that both contribute to that eternal song we sing.Just as the leaves must fall from the tree,so too must a man's life turn orangeand float gracefully down in its season.Is this season set in stone as Autumn's season?As man grows old, must he bow his head and float down as a leaf of orange?Although the inescapable is death,one must remember that with death,a new season unfolds in life, as it does in Spring with the tree.As the soul joins into Heaven and finally, finally sings.So may all souls singwhen right is the season,and be rooted like the ancient treeWhen they are oldso that deathcannot uproot,but merely turn their lives into a brilliant orange.So go on and sing, the blazing sunset orangeviewed by the tree tells how a day is spent and oldand how life's season must end in a beautiful departure-a beautiful death.1. Asyndeton2. Biblical allusion3. Simile4. Metaphor5. Tone-change from downcast to hopeful6. Hyperbation7. Oxymoron(some of the longer lines wrapped around over to a new line, sorry)
title= "The Changing of Seasons"
Freedom FallFall is like a single dimly lit candle inanity a dark room: inviting all the earth's inhabitants to gather in stillness. (allegory)The vast waves of the ocean don't even compare.The all-inclusive singing of introspective trees have made all other beauty obsolete. Creatures of all kinds prepare for a long winter's rest.As the wise old sun begins to set-The children of the world are released to freedom.Leaves fight the trees to escape to freedom.Leaves dance on the wind, drift to the ground, then once again stillness. There is where the pie was set.Love in any other season can't compare. (alliteration)An old man evaluates his life as he sit's on the park bench and rests.In the fall, hate is obsolete.Stress is obsolete,Inviting the rein of freedom.Beckoned snow does not yet. In the heavens it waits and rests.As the remaining leaves hit the ground, the trees announce their lively death through the stillness. (oxymoron)Light and dark mix together to which you can't compare.The band chooses from a list of songs to play for their next set.Fall can also bring a sadness, I saw a motherless child lay flowers in front of where a tombstone was set. (Negative capability)To some, the joy fall brings is obsolete. Some people choose to speak hatred fluently to which love can't compare.Their sadness has trapped them in chains to where they know no freedom.Only Stillness.Creatures make their final preparations for their great rest.Rest, sweet rest.Friends race: On your mark, set-- (Asyndeton)As the friends run off, they leave that part of the world behind, stillness.Summer is obsolete.Fall is freedom.Spring also can't compare.Fall is where families find blessings to compare.A laugh, a full belly, now time for rest.Family is freedom. (Consonance)The table now cleared was once set.The feeling of fulfillment now obsolete.The room is full of content stillness.Love can't compare, passion knows no stillness,Fall is freedom, and that is set. (Aphorism)above all the rest Fall rests. In the shadow of fall, every other season is obsolete.
Fall by Josh RaylFall reminds me of the sweet taste of candy.Fall comes as slows as the growth of pumpkins.Fall brings the juicy, succulent turkeyAnd the awesome cornucopia.The leaves turn yellowAnd some change to red.The interior of homes is decorated with orange and red.With fall comes the sweet corn-shaped candy.My eyes are confused by the shade of yellow.Fall comes as slow as the growth of pumpkins.I see gourds flowing out of the cornucopia.I smell the seasoned turkey.My bullet penetrated that turkey, And its blood ran red.I now look at the table’s center piece, the cornucopia.Fall brings the Halloween candy, And the carving of pumpkins.Inside them the flame glows yellowI look out the windows at the leaves that are yellow.BANNNGG! I see and kill another turkey. Now I begin to roast the seeds from the pumpkins.The metal of the roaster so hot, it is redI have already engorged myself with candy.I ask myself, What is the cornucopia?The horn of a goat is the cornucopia.The ground is blanketed with the color of yellow.I can’t eat any more candy.And I have already cooked the second turkey.I look at nature, which has become redThen I see the old rotten pumpkins.My mother has baked a pie flavored with pumpkins.I'm fearful ofhaving to eat it so I hide behind the cornucopia.My face is overcome with shades of redThen I rake up the blanket of yellow, and discard the remains of the turkey.I have consumed my body weight in candy.I cannot resist the sugary candy,Up comes the candy in a pasty yellowOut comes the once delicious turkey.1. Simile2. Repetition3. Alliteration4. Onomatopoeia 5. Metaphor 6. Hyperbole7. Allusion
i had the literary devices underlined, but when i copy and pasted it from word it the underlines didnt transfer.
"Light and Darkness"Connor GrillLike a million kisses of burning flair.With blinding rays of golden hair.Her beauty is high above me.Whose love is all-abiding and free.When her sister was bornLights power over man's hearts became worn.She was tired and wornThe bright star was but a flairA new age of darkness was born.A new blinding unraveling of hair.Where men's hearts were not freeWhose control was over me."You are not greater than me."The dark sister said. She was not worn.Fun, secrets, juvenile, not free.With a lack of light there was no flair.Suppression-cut hair.There the darkness consumed the young born.Then came a new born.Unlike any man including me.Who screamed of strength and unleashed the light's hair.Who was once worn.Came back with brightest flair.Men were free.Free,New-born,New-flair,A new me!the darkness was worn.Unleashed golden hair.Well, when I woke from my bed with bad hair.I didn't feel free.Sure I felt worn.I feel refreshed like a new born.But mornings don't get along with me.I never said anything about me having flair.So the Sun ruled with its rays of hair/flaring.Then as the Sun became worn/ Darkness was born.Again ma is no longer free/ only to be saved by morning flair.1. Simile2. Foreshadowing 3. Conflict4. Deus ex Machina5. Asyndeton6. Authorial Intrusion7. Metaphor
"Writers Block"by Edward AmosHere I am writing this poemIt is fall but I still feel the heat from the sun.The only relief from this is the cool breeze.Annoying and awfully agitating childrenDistract me from my writing.But I have to block out the noise. Pandemonium, commotion, noisePrevents me from writing this poem.The only way to finish is to start writing,Hot, flaming, SunWhy do we have to sit near the children?At least I still feel the breeze.Across the pond comes the breezeOnly to amplify the noise.While on the playground are the childrenAnd I still don't know what to write about in my poem.Down comes the Sun.Only to prohibit my writing.A giant wall prevents me from writing,Thank goodness for the breeze.It neutralizes the heat from the sunBut on comes the noise.I need ideas for my poemI want silence from the children.The small, playful, childrenAre inspiration for my writing.I will talk about them in my poemAs well as the gentle and refreshing breeze,While there is still noiseAs well as the hot Sun.With the heat and noise and Sun,It is hard to forgive the childrenFor making so much noiseAnd delaying me from writing,But there is relief with the breezeAnd it helps me to focus when I write this poem.The terrible sun stalls my poem,And the obnoxious noise doesn't help my writingBut I forgive the children just like I welcome the breeze.1. Alliteration2. Asyndeton3. Circunlocution4. Hyperbole5. Imagery6. Polysyndeton7. Simile
Outside, my hair is pushed by the wind.I look up to the sky of blueand I look down and see leaves.Glowing from the sunis the water,shining all the time.I sit here, losing track of timeas I feel the windflowing past me like waterthat is a cool blue.I'm heated by the sunand flying around me are leaves.There are many leaves.Counting would be a waste of time.As now, down goes the sun.The speed of the windincreases as the bluesky evaporates like water.It is now hard to see the wateras it is now covered with leavesand is no longer so blue.I await the timethat I see the trees swaying with the windand shining is the sun.Soon, the clouds will again reveal the sunand it will shine on the water,which shall be moved by the windlike the leavesflowing through the air time after timeagain, as the sky shines blue.But once again, the sky of bluewill fade as the sunlowers for night time.The dark wateragain is covered with leavesand pushed by the wind.Soon, the waves will be blue and pushed by wind.If only time would hurry so I may see the waterand the sun will shine, and I'm surrounded by leaves.
I hated this poem. Not the assignment, just my poem. I should have written it by today because I had it done... >.<
The Sensation of the Beginning and Duration of FallI love to look at the pictures that are reflectant, displayed in the pond,And relish slowly the August air.I cannot forget the joyful, children’s voicesAnd the aging, old leaves,With glimers of hesitant rays of sharpness that atone for light;All the sensations of hominess and comfort that come about with Fall.A deep candy bowl of various types could define Fall.The many aspects of this time of year, fitting perfectly into the pond,With a filter of a unique lightThat not only brightens but encompasses the brisk air.Each different piece of candy, a new feeling, is like one of the Fall leaves.Only a quick and playful hand into the bowl are those majestic voices.So what distinguishes this common day; is it the voices,That unashamadely display the true emotions of Fall,’The day they associate with the falling yet mysterious leavesWith the motion , slow and fluid, as the pond.Or perhaps it is the airOr even the infiltrating light.One wandering stranger can see the Autumn light,However the light can not see the stranger who listen’s to the season’s voices;Such are the birds of crow, finch, and wren that fill the air,Frolicking in the picturesque scene of Fall.They fly and swim over the pondAnd pick at and settle in the crunchy leaves.I am very happy when I get a glimpse of the first Fall leaves,That fall and mix into the shining light.The leaves and trees totally encompass the pond,Not responding to the children’s voices.This season that brings about a good feeling into one’s soul is Fall,The season with the clean ,crisp, and fresh air.The birds and leaves and voices and light all fill the air.Making such a culture that rests not solely on the fall of the leaves.Is this all that I can do to describe fall?Is fall more than just the season with changing lights Or that of children’s voices,Or that of a still and quiet pond?I want some of that air, that gives me joy while observing the pond,And I do say of Fall: It can be about the light,But more importantly of the symbol of death and life in the leaves and the constant hope given by the children’s voices.1. Anastrophe2.Ekphrastic3. Inversion4. Chiasmus5. Periphrasis6. Polysyndeton7. Pathetic Fallacy
"Fall"Breeze came and stayed in an ellagant way,The love of past, it's path bent out of placeMusic comes and flys through the airWhile colors of diffebt kinds embraceGod has givin us a great seasonHe gives us love that can be put in a caseBlessings are like giftsThey come like a breeze and don't go awayFor God h givin them to us to keepAnd His love is a blessing as wellFrom the colors of the leavesAnd the music like a bird singing Music- your tone of voice helps me be entertained You are a blessing from above;Colors- you change your looks, to whatever pleases you;The breeze helps you dance to your likingLove- you may have hard times, but together we help each other...God ha givin you to me.God is an awesome God indeedThe music is sweet and relaxin that He has givin usHis love is abundant and never endingBlessings shower upon our heads from GodThe breeze that He has created is always new and is coolAnd the colors of changing leaves fill our eyes with great delight.Colors are changing like the clothes of a humanGod is great in all that He does;Breezes are like the wind of fans blowing on us;Music fill our souls with happiness.Blessings are like starsGods love is never endingLove is never hateDull colors are never here. Bad blessings aren't givenGod loves usNon musical music is not hereThe breeze I amazingLove is like a breezeBlessings from God are on usAnd colors tell us that the music is helping us.
1. Rhythm & Rhyme2. Analogy3. Caesura4. Imagery5. Metaphor6. Oxymoron7. Pathetic Fallacy
Trees,In the fall the leaves.they turn brownas the air turns cool hibernation begins for bearsthis is natureIn nature there are treesthere are also bearstrees have leavesbears are coolthey are both brownThe prevalence of brownin nature can be seen as the coolbreeze whispers through the treesin the wind blows the leavesinto hibernation go the bearsBears, Bears are brownbears roll in leavesbears live in naturebears climb treesbears are coolNature in the fall is coolthey don't like the cool, the bearsso they begin to get fat by climbing trees to eat squirrels. Their luscious brown fur reflects the color of naturein the fall as brown the leaves areOn trees there are leavesfall brings the cool- ness of winter to naturehibernation begins for the bearsand the leaves turn brownas they fall off treesFall is the beggining of leaves falling off treeschanges begin in nature as to sleep go bearseverything cools down and becomes brown
one fine day in falla man was walking and his name was Beowulf.He just dismounted his noble steedas he entered the kingdom walls he heard of fight.the air was so very coldso to stay warm he began to skip.He loved to fight so he started to skipbut he tripped and started to fall.The wind that blew past his face was cold he fell on his face, but was he embarrassed? no hes BeowulfHe went in search of this fightSo to avoid falling again he got onto his steed.He traveled through the streets on his steedstrangely, his horse began to... skip.He found the source of the news about this fightas he dismounted he took another fallhis ego was indeed bruised but he is Beowulf.Now he was covered in mud and he was very cold Yes the mud was very cold he was made fun of by all even the steed.he was getting sad but then he remembered, he was Beowulfto shake the mud off he began to skipthis time he did not fall but instead finally went to this fight yes it was quite the fight nobody would dare attempt it because of the cold on had attempted he to took a fallhe rode quickly on his steed who this time did not skipbut they flew as he shouted hi name Beowulfthis hero however was not really Beowulf.he was also not prepared to fight the real Beowulf would never skipand didn't care about the cold the real Beowulf steed was a much nobler steed and he would never fallbut this was Beowolf, Beowulf's little brother born in the fallhe loved to skip and he lost his balance and took a hard fallhe had never been in a fight and his steed was a mini steed.
Nature is tickling my skin.The trees reach out their gnarled fingers to cover me from the sunThe grass puts on a graceful display of dancingAs i sit here and long for the faint chill of fall. The colors all around me beg for my undivided attention.But here I sit, carefully etching these words.Harsh, biting, brutal have been my wordsIn past weeks as the sun reached down to scorch my skin.The sun ventured out to rob me of all my attention;My thoughts were consumed by the burning and scortching of the sunEach day, I awaited the fallof the harsh and mocking sun so that I might gae upon the stars dancing.Those were the nights--the nights I caught my soul dancing.My soul needed not to hear warm wordsWhispered--melting my heart; for the evening cause the temperature to fall.The chill air rose tiny tickling welts to my skin.I longed for the day that the scorching sunWould fall; Then nature would posses my undivided attention.When I run in the burning hear, my attentionFalls away. My arguably psychotic thoughts begin dancing,Until a tiny little angel descends to protect me from the sun.With this angel's magical words,A cooling sensation runs through my skin.Within my mind, the evil thoughts begin to fall. As they fall, My abilities rise to the occasion--I steal everyone's attention.In this weather, a glittering coat of gold glazes my skin.The sparkles of water and salt begin dancing--Everyone is at a lost of words.I owe it all to the taming of the sun.All this fun, I owe to the sun.There is a beautiful call to the joys of fallWhen the birds begin to find their melodious words.There is only a slight tension when not all attentionIs focused on the prancing lights of the stars dancing.I breathe in the thin, pleasant air and enjoy the chill stroking my skin.The tamed rays of the sun informed my skin,With words that demanded my undivided attention, That the long awaited fall had arrived, and had the leaves dancing.
The hero rode along with his horse and his sword,praying to his Father to not be overcome to the winter.Knowing that on this journey his Father was his only company,but knew He wouldn't let him fall to this monster, and the monster would know who killed him: Beowulfand that the Father is his shield.Our champion saw a strong enemy coming and raised his shield. He blocked the beasts' strike then slashed him with his swordThe angry monster noticed it was Beowulf,so he hid in the blanket of winter.The hero follwed the fresh blood trail of the monsterhis sword and his shield now his company.But would this be enough company?The hero saw something coming and again he raised his shield,but this time it was no monster,so he proceeded to sheath his sword.This was an unusual sight in the winter,he thought as a strong, muscular dog approached Beowulf.The new found accompanied Beowulf,he smiled at the dogs coy smirk and knew he was in good company, it was good to have a friend in the relentless wintter.Night approached and the hero needed a shelter, a shieldfrom the cold. He found an inviting cave and pulled out his swordhe needed to check for signs of the monster.There was no indication that the cave housed a monsterso the champion started a fire, layed down, the dog beside Beowulfclose to the protection of his new masters sword.these two were indeed a capable company,one acted as the others shield.A fire and a friend are a precious camoddody in a white winter.The next morning the hero was not awoke to the sounds of winter,but to the sounds of battle with a monster!He sprinted out and dove to block a fatal blow with his shield,but what he heard next enraged Beowulf.As he battled he heard a whimper, it was that of his company,the champion let out a battle cry and discarded his sword.He was no longer bothered by the winter, he needed no sword,he needed no shield, he was Beowulf.He struck the monster and tore off every limb, seeking vengeance for his company.
When songbirds stop singing and simply flyWhen perfect purple petunias are purchased for a poundWhen failed feathers catch wind and falllooping, they landlike the lonely, lackadaisickle leaveor leaf, excuse my grammar, but its got to be that timeIts fall timeJust ask the fruit flyHe`ll answer promptly, then leaveCares, he doesnt have a pound. He`ll land.Because its fall.Its fall.Its just that time.God`s gift to the landThe hum of the dragon flyBa-bam Da-dound Pa-poundThe deer hooves beat the ground as they leave.The colors leaveThe leaves fallI gain one more poundIt`s holliday timeI want to grow wings and flyacross this vast landI want to descend and landBefore the snowflakes leaveI want to fly.Dont fall!Its just that time.Gain another pound.Gain another poundAdmire God`s landIts just that time.As I leavemy grandmother`s house i admire the acorns that fallAnd wish that i could fly.Dont gain another pound, but grow light, and fly.Because its about that time that the black bears leaveAnd cast blessing on the land. Its fall.
Oh! That glorious red, that bright gold,the falling leaves,giggling children,with round orange pumpkins,and the beautiful sound of laughter.It's a balm on the sorrowful heart to hear the bright, tinkling laughter,to see that brilliant shade of red, to see and hear children giggling over pumpkins,To walk in the falling gold,to see teh children,Jump, jump, jumping into the pile of leaves.Toss, toss, tossing up the gold, red, and orange leaves,to feel the laughter,To a watch the excited children,To spot the sweater that's red,to spot the cloud of goldto spot the perfect orange shade of pumpkin.Buying the huge orange pumpkin,traipsing through the leaves,reaching the car thats gold,hearing the rise of laughter,watching the sky turn red,watch the running children.Orange, orange, and more orange pumpkins,more, and more leaves,more and more falling leaves of gold,deep-belly laughter,oh that beautiful vibrant red,the delighted squeals of children,Oh to see those fabulous leaves of falling gold, mixed in with that vibrant red,the growing laughter, the growing pumplins,the happy children, and the piles and piles of leaves.
*Sorry I haven't turned this in sooner! My computer is down and today this period is the only time I have been able to post it at school.*"My Favorite Season"My favorite season is fallWith its color-changing leavesAnd its weather which is cool.And the smell of cinnamon in the air.Colors of red, orange and yellowFill the town's trees and grass.Halloween decorations in the grass.One of the first signs of fall.Pumpkins of orange and squash of yellowSurrounded my multicolored leaves.I can feel the thinning air.Not too warm, perfectly cool.Football season is really coolI love the small of the field's grass.The excitement of winning in the air.People love the boys of fall.Like hurricane Katrina when she leaves;The weather radar flashes yellow.The colors of orange, red and yellow.The temperature that is perfectly cool.I like to rake up the fall leavesIn a pile in my yard in the grass.Then, into the pile I fall.A skydiver in mid-air.Different kinds of birds in the air.My favorites are the ones of yellow.There kinds of birds come in the fall.Flying south for the winter, it's cool.Eating the worms out of the grass,Nestling up under the trees.I watch the colorful, beautiful leavesas they swoop and spiral through the air.As I sit in the grass,I watch around me: red, orange, yellow.The temperature is cool.This is why I love fall.Down, down the leaves fall.The grass of green, the leaves of yellow.The air is warm, yet perfectly cool.