Anaphora



Anaphora

• …is a rhetorical device using repetition at the beginnings of neighboring clauses

• …is the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses

• …is not solely used in poetry

QUESTIONS:

• How does anaphora instruct the poems function/help make meaning?

Anaphora in prose…

“I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state, sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.”

-Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

“Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed. Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky. Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever. Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never.”

-Elie Wiesel, Night

“We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender ……”

~Winston Churchill

Anaphora in poetry…

“A Litany”

Gregory Orr

I remember him falling beside me,

the dark stain already seeping across his parka hood.

I remember screaming and running the half mile to our house.

I remember hiding in my room.

I remember that it was hard to breathe

and that I kept the door shut in terror that someone would enter.

I remember pressing my knuckles into my eyes.

I remember looking out the window once

at where an ambulance had backed up

over the lawn to the front door.

I remember someone hung from a tree near the barn

the deer we'd killed just before I shot my brother.

I remember toward evening someone came with soup.

I slurped it down, unable to look up.

In the bowl, among the vegetable chunks,

pale shapes of the alphabet bobbed at random

or lay in the shallow spoon.

“The Summer Day”

By Mary Oliver

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean-

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

“For Mr. Grimes Who Tried To Teach Me Physics After My Father Died”

By John Hodgen

He spoke of ellipses,

of things coming round again.

He spoke of resistance,

of the forces that act upon us.

He spoke of gravity,

of the earth that draws us to itself.

He said the mass of the earth,

the changes of state.

He said that a body at rest

would remain at rest.

He said that a boy

standing at the end of a moving train

could toss the red ball of his life

up into the heavy air

and catch it again.

“For the Leapers”

By John Hodgen

We will fall then,

you and I,

like falling in love,

like Lover’s Leap.

We will hold

each other’s hand.

And on the way down,

before we land,

we will think of all

who have fallen before us,

how the mighty have fallen,

like Karl Wallenda,

like old King Kong,

like Humpty Dumpty

on all the king’s men.

We will fall like the Alamo,

we will fall like Saigon,

like refugees from helicopters

who can no longer hold on.

We will think of them

as we fall through the air,

as the wind runs its passionate

hands through your hair.

And we will think of the times

we have fallen ourselves,

fallen asleep,

fallen from grace,

fallen in love with a song,

the way we fall on our face,

the way twilight comes falling,

the way rain falls, Niagara Falls,

the way one falls among thieves

on the road to Bombay.

We will fall like the leaves,

how they always have fallen

at their height of their beauty,

the way we fall for each other,

like calendar pages.

We will fall through time,

Through the ages,

past the Tower of Babel,

past Adam and Eve,

watch them cover themselves

when God tells them to leave,

says get out of my sight.

We will fall past the angels,

we will fall from such height,

our tears will lift up from our eyes.

We will fall straight through hell.

And then we will rise.

“The Delight Song of Tsoai-talee.”

By N. Scott Momaday

I am a feather on the bright sky

I am the blue horse that runs in the plain

I am the fish that rolls, shining, in the water

I am the shadow that follows a child

I am the evening light, the lustre of meadows

I am an eagle playing with the wind

I am a cluster of bright beads

I am the farthest star

I am the cold of dawn

I am the roaring of the rain

I am the glitter on the crust of the snow

I am the long track of the moon in a lake

I am a flame of four colors

I am a deer standing away in the dusk

I am a field of sumac and the pomme blanche

I am an angle of geese in the winter sky

I am the hunger of a young wolf

I am the whole dream of these things

You see, I am alive, I am alive

I stand in good relation to the earth

I stand in good relation to the gods

I stand in good relation to all that is beautiful

I stand in good relation to the daughter of Tsen-tainte

You see, I am alive, I am alive

Anaphora Poem prompts

(15 Lines minimum)

Ideas:

1. Make a list of twenty-five of the most beautiful/sensual/or poetic words you can think of. (wisp, hollow, trickle, iridescent, flicker.) If you can’t think of any off the top of your head, flip through the dictionary.

Once you have your list of words, pick one to try to build a poem around. The word can be the title of your poem, part of an image, central to a narrative, or just a word in a line.

2. Think of something you were afraid of or longed for as a child. Write a poem in which you describe what it was and how it made you feel. You can write from the point of view of an older person looking back on it, or you can write from the point of view of the child you once were.

3. Create an Anaphora poem that is centered on these ideas:

← Freedom is…

← I look to a day when…

← I refuse to accept the view that…

← If we are to go forward…

← In the end, we will remember…

← It is not enough to say…

← Peace is…

← Chaos is…

← I remember…

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