Song

Sleepyhead by Passion Pit is poetry. The song contains several literary devices which are simile, metaphor, ambiguity, hyperbole and imagery (visual and olfactory). A line in the song that I liked is an example of a hyperbole and it says "my beard grew down to the floor and out through the doors."

~Sleepyhead by Passion Pit~

And everything is going to the beat
And everything is going to the beat
And everything is going

And you said, it was like fire around the brim
Burning solid, burning thin the burning rim
Like stars burning holes right through the dark
Flicking fire like saltwater into my eyes
You were one inch from the edge of this bed
I dragged you back a sleepyhead, sleepyhead

They couldn't think of something to say the day you burst
With all their lions, with all their might and all their thirst
They crowd your bedroom like some thoughts wearing thin
Against the walls, against your rules, against your skin
My beard grew down to the floor and out through the doors
Of your eyes, begonia skies like a sleepyhead, sleepyhead

Spring Poem

Spring in New Hampshire
by Claude McKay
Too green the springing April grass, Too blue the silver-speckled sky, For me to linger here, alas, While happy winds go laughing by, Wasting the golden hours indoors, Washing windows and scrubbing floors. Too wonderful the April night, Too faintly sweet the first May flowers, The stars too gloriously bright, For me to spend the evening hours, When fields are fresh and streams are leaping, Wearied, exhausted, dully sleeping.

Pablo Neruda- Ode to the Present

This present moment, smooth as a wooden slab, this immaculate hour, this day pure as a new cup from the past-- no spider web exists-- with our fingers, we caress the present; we cut it according to our magnitude; we guide the unfolding of its blossoms. It is living, alive-- it contains nothing from the unrepairable past, from the lost past, it is our infant, growing at this very moment, adorned with sand, eating from our hands. Grab it. Don't let it slip away. Don't lose it in dreams or words. Clutch it. Tie it, and order it to obey you. Make it a road, a bell, a machine, a kiss, a book, a caress. Take a saw to its delicious wooden perfume. And make a chair; braid its back; test it. Or then, build a staircase! Yes, a staircase. Climb into the present, step by step, press your feet onto the resinous wood of this moment, going up, going up, not very high, just so you repair the leaky roof. Don't go all the way to heaven. Reach for apples, not the clouds. Let them fluff through the sky, skimming passage, into the past. You are your present, your own apple. Pick it from your tree. Raise it in your hand. It's gleaming, rich with stars. Claim it. Take a luxurious bite out of the present, and whistle along the road of your destiny.

Favorite Robert Frost Poem

Stars

    HOW countlessly they congregate
    O'er our tumultuous snow,
    Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
    When wintry winds do blow!—
    As if with keenness for our fate,
    Our faltering few steps on
    To white rest, and a place of rest
    Invisible at dawn,—
    And yet with neither love nor hate,
    Those stars like some snow-white
    Minerva's snow-white marble eyes
    Without the gift of sight.

This poem was one of my favorites because I often find myself looking up at the sky and just getting lost in the stars. A few of the literary devices in this poem that I noticed were Imagery (visual, auditory, tactile), Symbol, Simile, Personification and Defamiliarization.