A Scrapbook of Poetry

Dear Elizabeth,I feel like I’m Jane Bennet writing to Elizabeth right now, but I promise I’m not delivering the dreadful news that Lydia has run away with Wickham. I’m glad to say that the contents of this letter are much happier. As you are expecting, these slides contain a number of poems, all included for their own reasons. Some are here because I want to tell you how much I appreciate you and how wonderful you are—something I don’t do often enough. Other poems are in here because they make me think of you (in the best way possible, of course) and I thought you would appreciate them. You’re my best friend, and you love to write as much as I do. You’re one of the reasons I’m even taking this class! If it wasn’t for you reading my stories and poems faithfully, encouraging me to keep writing, and urging me to take this class as I wavered about whether or not I wanted to, I wouldn’t be here becoming a better writer. I appreciate that more than I can say, and I hope you enjoy this small token of thanks.Best Friends Forever,Annie

Beautyby E-Yeh-Shure

Beauty is seenIn the sunlightThe trees, the birds,Corn growing and people workingOr dancing for their harvest.

 

Beauty is heardIn the night,Wind sighing, rain falling,Or a singer chantingAnything in earnest.

 

Beauty is in yourself.Good deeds, happy thoughtsThat repeat themselvesIn your dreams,In your work,And even in your rest.

I am going to be completely honest here. When I originally picked “Beauty,” I didn’t know that the poems we were supposed to include in this assignment were supposed to remind us of the person we were giving the dedication book to. I picked it because I thought I could give a good analysis on it. But now, as I rewrite this explication to make it more personal, I realize that God must have been helping me because through an analysis of E-Yeh-Shure’s poem, I can tell you something very important.

Honesty: The Best Policy

Fill-in-the-blank Imagery

Before I get to that, however, I do need to show you a few things about the poem. First, I want to call your attention to the imagery. Yeh-Shure keeps her imagery very loose; there isn’t anything specific. She says that beauty is seen in “The trees, the birds,” a very open-ended phrase. She doesn’t say that “the majestic oaks, the delicate sparrows” are beautiful. She just says “the trees, the birds.” In the second stanza she says that beauty is heard in the “rain falling,” but doesn’t expand on that. You, the reader, have to decide whether you want to fill that in with a powerful downpour or just a soft patter on the window. Yeh-Shure says beauty is in “good deeds, happy thoughts,” but what sort of good deeds? Does she mean community service? Or something simpler, like cheering up a friend when they’re down, the way you cheer me up? And what kind of happy thoughts? I know you agree with me that ice cream is certainly a happy thought. But maybe the happy thoughts are grander, like the beach and the mountains we joked about visiting on our imaginary road trip because we both find them to be happy places. Let’s face it; Yeh-Shure leaves her images very loose and lets the reader fill in the gaps.

Keep It Loose

Now I want to call your attention to the structure of the poem. This is also very loose. There are three stanzas with lines of 5, 5, and 6. So they’re similar in length, but not exact—which admittedly, is something I could never do because my technical math brain won’t let me. Yeh-Shure also doesn’t have a rhyme scheme; I would say because rhyme schemes are too rigid and confining and she’s working really hard to establish this looseness.

Finally, listen to the tone of the poem. The speaker is just sort of wandering through the poem in a musing, thoughtful kind of way. As we both know very well through experience, thoughts rarely come out in a logical, sequenced form unless you’re trying really hard to have it come out that way (like when you’re writing an essay). Thoughts make sense, but they often don’t have strict points the way an essay does where you say, “I’m going to make this point, and then this point, and then this point.” The structure of thoughts is normally much looser than that.

My Message

You might be asking yourself right now why I’m putting so much emphasis on the “looseness” of the poem. It’s because through her looseness, Yeh-Shure shows what beauty really is: a very loose term that can be applied to so much of the world around us. At least for me, “beauty” usually makes me conjure up a mental image of a beautiful woman because that’s how the culture defines beauty. The deeper reflection of the looseness of beauty that permeates every aspect of the poem really helps me appreciate the poem anew and allows me to see “beauty” in a new light. But Yeh-Shure has also made me realize something about you. My important message is this: beauty might be “in the eye of the beholder,” but no matter who looks at our friendship, I’m sure they can see what a beautiful friend you are to me.

BalanceAdam Zagajewski

I watched the arctic landscape from aboveand thought of nothing, lovely nothing.I observed white canopies of clouds, vastexpanses where no wolf tracks could be found. I thought about you and about the emptinessthat can promise one thing only: plenitude—and that a certain sort of snowy wastelandbursts from a surfeit of happiness. As we drew closer to our landing,the vulnerable earth emerged among the clouds,comic gardens forgotten by their owners,pale grass plagued by winter and the wind.

I put my book down and for an instant felta perfect balance between waking and dreams.But when the plane touched concrete, thenassiduously circled the airport's labyrinth,

 

I once again knew nothing. The darknessof daily wanderings resumed, the day's sweet darkness,the darkness of the voice that counts and measures,remembers and forgets.

The Wonders of Imagery

“Balance” is about flying. I know only too well how much you love to ride in airplanes, and Zagajewski’s imagery beautifully captures the amazing view out of the airplane window. He compares it to an “arctic landscape.” I’ve been trying for ages to figure out a way to describe the clouds, and never once did I think of snow, so I find the simplicity of the metaphor brilliant. Then he says that he’s “thinking of nothing, lovely nothing.” I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we would find that absolutely blissful; we do want to take a road trip to escape reality. Zagajewski then ends the stanza with more imagery. “I observed white canopies of clouds, vast/expanses where no wolf tracks could be found.” I love that line “where no wolf tracks could be found.” First, it makes me think of you because it makes me think of Alaska. Second, it’s so simple, yet it powerfully solidifies the comparison between the clouds and the arctic landscape.

Blissful NothingShifting to the second stanza, the poem becomes

more focused on the speaker than the clouds. I was stumped by these lines the first time I read the poem. Emptiness promises abundance? A wasteland bursts with happiness? It seems contradictory. Then I realized that he’s saying that emptiness cannot be emptied more, only filled abundantly. In the same way, a desolate wasteland can only be filled with happiness since it has already sunk to the depths of despair. Not only is this an intriguing thought, but it’s also a Christian theme. As Christians, we have to completely empty ourselves of worldly desires in order to be filled with an abundance of spiritual gifts. This theme made me want to share the poem with you so much more because you’re my best Christian friend.

LandingThe last two stanzas of the poem are really the ones that

make me the most excited and give me that urge to share the poem with you. However, I don’t want to skip the third stanza altogether because Zagajewski deserves recognition for his eloquent description of the plane beginning to descend and what it looks like as “the vulnerable earth emerged among the clouds.” The third stanza is also important because it sets up the fourth. Admittedly, the fourth stanza is very complex; I had to ponder the first two lines for a time. He puts his trusty travel book down and experiences this “balance” between waking and dreaming. As I reflected on this, I realized he is talking about the dreamlike sensation present as you soak in the view of the clouds from the plane, and perhaps also the dreamy quality of being transported to a different world through reading a book. However, as he sets the book aside and the plane begins to descend, he is starting to emerge out of these dreams and into the real world, and so he is in this balance. The Zagajewski concludes the fourth stanza with the grounding of the plane and its weaving through the “airport’s labyrinth” (I love that description!).

THE DARKNESSThe fifth stanza probably made my face look like a confused emoticon

when I read it the first time. As the plane lands, Zagajewski says he knew “nothing.” If he just emerged from this dream world back to reality, why does he know nothing? The rest of the stanza was just as confusing. What does he mean by “the darkness of the day”? But after mulling it over, the realization of what it means hit me like a ton of bricks. In this final stanza, Zagajewski builds off what he began in the fourth stanza and really explains what the “balance” is. Think about that moment when you just finished a book. As you are still emerging from the world of the book, you know how it feels like your senses are sharpened and you’re very aware of every miniscule movement you make? You feel truly alive. This is the “balance.” Then as the sensation fades, you’re back to normal, and in comparison, it’s almost like you’re walking in darkness. “Daily wanderings” are just the same old thing. It is a “sweet darkness” in a sense because if we were always sharp and alert it would become tiresome. We cannot hold onto the feeling of being so alive forever, but when we do experience that sensation, it always comes in a balance between a dream world and reality. The way Zagajewski was able to completely capture this feeling makes me want to dance with delight because I’ve never fully understood it before. But feeling that alive is a reminder of how alive we are through Christ’s redemption. I don’t know if Zagajewski purposefully included Christian themes, but those themes and the descriptions of an airplane ride meant that I had to include this poem for my Christian friend that loves airplanes.

In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,    

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on

snow,    

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter    

Long ago.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him

   Nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away

   

When He comes to reign:

In the bleak midwinter    

A stable-place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty

   Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom

cherubim

   Worship night and day,

A breastful of milk    

And a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels

   Fall down before,

The ox and ass and camel

   Which adore.

Angels and archangels

   May have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim

   Thronged the air;

But only His mother

   In her maiden bliss

Worshipped the Beloved

   With a kiss.

What can I give Him,

   Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd

   I would bring a lamb,

If I were a Wise Man

   I would do my part,—

Yet what I can I give

Him,

   Give my heart.

BAH-HUMBUG

When you see “A Christmas Carol,” you probably think

of the ghosts of past, present, and future Christmases and bah-

humbugs. However, as you saw, Rossetti’s poem “A Christmas

Carol” shares only the same title as Dickens’ novel. Beyond

that, Dickens created his own Christmas story while Rossetti

wrote about the true Christmas carol. As you are one of my

dearest Christian friends, every time I come across an amazing

expression of some aspect of our faith, I can’t help but share it

with you.

THE HARSH WINTER

The first stanza of the poem sets the “bleak mid-winter”

scene. The second, third, and fourth lines establish the feeling

of hostility that winter can have. Snowflakes are beautiful, but

a snowstorm is dangerous. Rossetti captures this in her poem

through the frosty wind’s personified moaning, the frozen earth

“as hard as iron,” and the dangerous ice—“water like a stone.”

Then Rossetti says that “Snow had fallen, snow on snow/Snow

on snow,” which might be pretty, but remember that gigantic

snowstorm a few years ago? Imagine trying to travel through

that like Mary and Joseph did.

SYMBOLISM?

I don’t think that Rossetti necessarily meant for her imagery to just be

contained to the literal interpretation of it. This is my belief—and I might

be wrong—but I think that by establishing this hostility of the season,

Rossetti is also establishing the inhospitable attitudes of the innkeepers

that Mary and Joseph encountered in Bethlehem. The innkeepers moan

that they have no room; their iron minds are dead against letting the

couple stay; their icy hearts turn them out into the equally cold evening.

It’s not just one innkeeper either, but all of them piling up the snow of

rejection, “snow on snow.” This comparison makes me appreciate how

hard it was that first Christmas night, which contrasted with how

comfortable and cozy we all are on Christmas causes my heart to yearn to

reflect more on the true meaning of Christmas that often gets lost in the

commercialism of the season.

THE SACRIFICE

The second and third stanzas have the same main point: how

much Jesus gave up when He became man. To demonstrate His power,

Rossetti begins the second stanza by saying, “Heaven and earth shall

flee away/When He comes to reign,” which is probably a reference to the

end of the world when there shall be “a new heaven and a new earth” as

the Bible says. Think about that. Our God is so powerful that “Heaven

cannot hold Him/Nor earth sustain him,” and yet “a stable-place

sufficed” for Jesus. The contrast speaks for itself. The third stanza

continues in a similar way, saying that He had “cherubim worship night

and day,” which He was satisfied to replace with the “ox and ass and

camel.”

ROSSETTI AND MARK HALL

Our favorite band Casting Crowns created a similar

picture in their song Glorious Day, “One day when heaven was

filled with His praises/One day when sin was as black as could

be/Jesus came forth to be born of a virgin.” The stark contrast

between what Jesus had in heaven and what He had that first

night, when He came into the sin-filled, black world to be a light

to us—it never fails to make me appreciate anew the sacrifice He

made by coming to save us, and Rossetti’s poem almost brings

tears to my eyes as she paints a picture of His love.

THE KISS

The fourth stanza describes further what happened that night in

Bethlehem. The angels were in the sky singing their praises, as it says

in the Bible, and proclaiming the good news. Rossetti also takes

particular care to speak of Mary’s love, and how privileged she was as

she “Worshipped the Beloved/With a kiss.” But I think that Rossetti

perhaps has a deeper meaning here than just Mary had this privilege

because she was His mother. Jesus’s passion began with Judas’s kiss of

betrayal. Rossetti says that “only His mother” kissed Jesus as an act of

worship, as opposed to those of us whose kisses are betrayal because of

our sin. Granted, it’s Catholic doctrine that says Mary was sinless, but

I’m sure you agree that she was a very holy person.

OUR GIFT

The fifth stanza is very straightforward, but still heart-

wrenching. As Rossetti speaks for herself, she speaks for

everyone. We are all poor spiritually. We are not the shepherds

that could give the baby Jesus sheep. We are not the magi; we

cannot give Him gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Yet despite our

poverty, we do have something to humbly give. To Him who gave

up so much for us, we can give our hearts. I hope Rossetti has

stirred up in you the passion she stirred up in me to strive to

achieve holiness out of appreciation for God’s great love.

1 How good and pleasant it is    when brothers live together in unity! 2 It is like precious oil poured on the head,     running down on the beard,running down on Aaron’s beard,    down upon the collar of his robe.3 It is as if the dew of Hermon     were falling on Mount Zion. For there the LORD bestows his blessing,     even life forevermore

Psalm 133

“Hiney maj tov umah naim, shevet achim

gam yachad!” That is probably what David actually said in Psalm 133, because it’s Hebrew for, “Behold how good and pleasant it is, for brethren to dwell in unity!” And indeed, how good and pleasant it is! You have taught me that. You have taught me what it means to dwell in Christian unity in a way that I never understood before, and now I can see why David was so excited about it.

Hiney Maj Tov!

Reading Psalm 133, you can hear David’s excitement, his

joyous celebration at the idea of unity. Yet he is also awestruck by this great gift we can have if we choose to put our efforts into being unified with the people around us. It truly is something that is worthy of our awe. I repeat: you have shown me this. You were my first friend that was there to lend support in my Christian walk. Before you, I never had a friend that I could go to and say, “Can you please pray for me?” I had Christian friends, but I was never close to them the way I’m close to you. I appreciate that so much. Being united with you through our common faith, being able to ask for and lend support, has greatly impacted my life and the way I approach friendships. I have come to realize that I can expect so much more from friendships with other Christians. Because of our friendship, I understand the tone of this psalm in a very personal way. Unity is worthy of celebration, but it is also worthy of awe. Unity is a characteristic of God since the Trinity is the perfect unity.

Let’s Celebrate!

David’s powerful use of imagery excites me; he has

found a comparison for something I would be at a loss to describe. His use of similes almost makes it possible to describe something indescribable. Reread these lines for a moment: “It is like precious oil poured on the head, running down on the beard, running down on Aaron’s beard, down upon the collar of his robes.” Now, imagine you are in the desert; it’s really, really hot and dry. Your skin is cracking. You would kill for some chap stick. And then, someone pours perfumed oil over your head. It feels absolutely wonderful on your dry skin. But there’s more to it than that. The oil is anointing you, symbolizing that God is blessing you, during what must be a beautiful ceremony. This is the context of the oil running down Aaron’s beard as he is anointed priest. That beautiful image is what David compares unity to. That beautiful image is what our friendship means to me.

Precious Oil

The next comparison is similar, except this time,

imagine you’re the ground in the desert, the earth. It’s nice and cool at night, and you love it because during the day you can’t escape the heat; you can’t run away and take shelter in the shade the way animals and humans can. Yet there is a gift in the early morning that allows you to be moderately cool as the sun rises: the dew. The dew of Hermon, sprinkled like diamonds over the holy Mount Zion. It must be a gorgeous, deliciously cool site. So is unity. Unity is a diamond of coolness in the blistering heat. As I wander the desert of the world, our friendship is a cool drink of pure water.

The Dew of Hermon

As my sister in Christ, I am unified with

you in a way that I am not unified with my non-Christian friends, and it has been a tremendous blessing to me. I have told you this before, but David says it so much more elegantly in Psalm 133. “For there the Lord bestows his blessing, even life evermore.” Thank you for letting me experience that.

Thank You

No DifferenceShel Silverstein

Small as a peanut,Big as a giant,We’re all the same sizeWhen we turn off the light.

Rich as a sultan,Poor as a mite,We’re all the worth the sameWhen we turn off the light.

Red, black or orange,Yellow or white,We all look the sameWhen we turn off the light.

So maybe the wayTo make everything rightIs for God to just reach outAnd turn off the light.

Who turned out the lights?!

Let’s Be FunI have all these serious poems in this book, and

they’re great, but I decided that I wanted the last published poem to be lighter in tone, so I picked up Carol’s copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. Paging through it, I came across “No Difference,” and after reading it several times with my jaw on the ground, I became certain that this was the poem I wanted to include.

What’s “No Difference”?If you just took a look at the title without reading

the poem, you probably wouldn’t be able to even hazard a guess what direction it would take. “No Difference” opens up a world of infinite possibilities. It could start talking about all the things that make no difference in the grand scheme of our lives, from Justin Bieber’s haircut (I mean honestly, who cares? His hair isn’t going to affect his singing ability) to what we eat for lunch today (it’ll be completely gone from your body in about 8 hours). Or maybe it’s a hint that the poem doesn’t make any difference. Except that Silverstein’s brilliance is that his simple poem makes all the difference.

Profound SimplicityTechnically, Silverstein wrote “No Difference” for kids. As

such, he uses very basic similes the entire poem like “big as a giant” and “rich as a sultan.” In another style of writing, these similes would probably seem weak. Yet in Silverstein’s poem, they add a childlike characteristic to the poem that makes it fun, but also sets the tone for the seemingly childish logic of the poem: the way to solve the world’s problems “Is for God to just reach out/And turn off the light.” When I read that I laughed. The world’s problems are so complex and the solution proposed is so simple. But through my giggles, the truth of it struck me. Probably 99.999999% of the world’s problems come from disagreements that really boil down to the fact that we’re all different and the fallen human race doesn’t like differences. But if the lights were turned off, it would make “no difference.” This logic is as simple as the similes used, but the simplicity of both of them make the entire poem have a profoundness that stunned me.

It’s The HeartNow after reading the poem, the title becomes very

meaningful. Just think about those words “No Difference” in the context of the poem. There really are very few differences between people when the lights are off. It’s easy to look someone in a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, that has a scruffy beard, is smoking a cigar and think that he might be someone you’d want to avoid. There’s certainly a level of common sense in that (you might want to make sure you have your knife on you), but at the same time, if you were in darkness would any of that matter? It’d make no difference, because you couldn’t see it. For me, this poem shifted my perspective slightly on how I view the world. To quote 1 Samuel 16:7, “People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” That’s what the title “No Difference” says. What are outward appearances compared to the love of Christ in your heart? That’s the part of you that makes you such a good friend, and it’s still there when the lights are turned off.

A Little Note

The next few pages contain 5 poems written by yours truly and dedications explaining why I included them. Enjoy

The Great Blue ExpanseThe great blue expanse

Rolling out as far as the eye can see.White foam caps

Please the eye and soothe the heart.

The great blue expanseTurns dark and menacing with threatening caps.

The tongue tastesThe electricity that makes the heart fear.

Two great blue expansesWhen one is blue, so is the other; they work together.

The eye delights in different white capsThat take away worries and make a carefree heart.

Two great blue expansesBoth become dark and menacing, together terrorizing.

The tongue tastes, the skin tinglesWith the high voltage that makes the heart tremble

The sea and the sky

Scary Phenomenon

You’re crazy enough to love thunderstorms, so I couldn’t help but think of you as I tried to capture the power of a storm in these lines. I didn’t even know I would be making this dedication book when I wrote it; I didn’t know you would ever see it. Yet as it describes (or attempts to describe) one of your favorite phenomenon, I couldn’t not include it.

Puzzle PiecesPieces are scattered across the table

Jagged edgesDifferent pictures

No two pieces exactly the same 

A piece is just slightly too large to fitOther pieces

Are sought afterThose of similar size and shape

 The pieces of my personality have

Jagged edgesDifferent pictures

No two pieces exactly the same

A piece seems slightly too large to fit meOther pieces

Are sought afterThose of similar size and shape

 But my pieces are too unique

Too jaggedTo fit together

Into a smooth picture of me 

Yet I gaze in the mirror at myselfAnd I appearTo be whole

So I wait for life to unfold

I wait for the jagged pieces to show meHow they

Fit togetherInto the smooth picture of me

We’re AlikeI wrote “Puzzle Pieces” back in January as I

was trying to reconcile my math brain with my love of creative writing. It is about me, but I know that you’re also trying to figure out your life right now and how everything fits together into God’s plan, so I thought this would be suitable to include. I know that you have a better idea now since you got accepted into the occupational therapy program, but I know there are still other pieces of you that you’re trying to fit together. God has a place for them. Look in the mirror; you’re whole.

Ink FriendsThey say that writing is lonely,And indeed it makes sense,For two cannot hold the same penAnd write simultaneously.

The vision of a writerIs a person in an empty room,Hunched over the notebookArmed with the trusty pen.

Indeed many write in that empty room.To the outside eye, they are very alone.No friend tries to write with them.But who says that person is lonely?

I am not lonely when I write.The princess up in the castle towerIs always there with me.She is my friend.

She is the heroine of the story.But her adventures do not prevent her,From keeping me company as I write.She perches on my paper and chats with me.She tells me her name,Just like any good friend.She recounts where she goes,Detailing all that she does.

Her enemies are my foes.Her friends are my pleasant company.Her parents treat me as their own.Her maid sees to my every need.

Whoever alleged that writing was lonely?Such a preposterous idea indeed!Don’t they see the company I share?The little ink friends so dear?

We Share A Love

How could I not include a poem about writing a story in a poetry dedication book to a fellow writer? “Ink Friends” was actually a reaction to reading “writing is a lonely process” over and over again in articles for this class. But when I reread this, I can’t help myself from thinking about you since you love to write, and you’re my best friend. I also know you won’t think I’m crazy because we’ve had conversations about how much we love it when characters seemingly just develop themselves, which is really the basis of the poem.

University

Attending a universityIs so common today.You enroll in college after high school.You find a refrigerator in the kitchen.It’s the same sort of logic.

You open the door of college,And you’re confronted with endless options.Shall I major in business? Or major in English?Perhaps I’ll even obtain a minor in Spanish.But I desire knowledge, so maybe I’ll combine all three!

You open the door of the refrigerator,And you’re confronted with endless options.Shall I eat cheese? Or maybe ham?Maybe I’ll just have leftover macaroni.But I’m ravenous, so maybe I’ll combine all three!

As a senior, college seems so scary.It appears to be a whole new thing, a complete life change.But maybe it’s not so new, so different, from what I’ll doWhen I look in the kitchen for the fridge today,And pick from the options what to eat for lunch.

You’re Already There

You’re in college and experiencing the overwhelming choices. I know that switching your major was a big deal because you weren’t sure which path to take, a result of both being presented with too many options and that you want to do what God wants you to do. You’re also crazy, like me. Thus, I thought you would appreciate this crazy metaphor about college and all the choices available to students.

A thrill strikes me,Surging through every nerve.

My heart races,My spirit stirs within me.

My mind spins,Every movement of my fingers

Is magnified ten times.I place my hands in their position.

They are ready.

The key respondsTo the pressure of the finger.

An “o” appearsOn the white expanse before me.

I create a worldIs this how god made the world?

All that mattersis the strengthening of the people.

This is how I write.

Writing

I just can’t resist. You’re a writer, I’m a writer. We both love it. We have similar tastes in what we write about. I’ve been wondering for a while if creating my own fictional world is anything like the way God feels as He creates us. He created our personalities, our looks, our families, our history—everything that goes into a story. And in the end, He wants to help us become better people, just like the best books have characters that learn and develop. Maybe being writers will help us better understand why God places certain circumstances in our lives because it’s the way we place circumstances in our characters’ lives.

Will we better understand?

BibliographyE-Yeh-Shure. "Beauty." Classics For Young Readers. Ed. John Holdren. Vol. 7. K12, 2003. 342. Print."Psalm 133." The Holy Bible: New International Version. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2005. 520. Print.Rossetti, Christina. "A Christmas Carol." Poets.org. Academy of American Poets. Web. 19 May 2012. <http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/

19287>.Silverstein, Shel. "No Difference." Where The Sidewalk Ends. New York: HarperCollins, 2004. 81. Print.Zagajewski, Adam. "Balance." Poets.og. Academy of American Poets, 2008. Web. 19 May 2012. <http://www.poets.org/

viewmedia.php/prmMID/20101>.