Poetry Questions and AnswersRead the poem below and then answer the questions that follow.Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just. Why do sinners’ way prosper? and why must Disappointment all I endeavour end? Wert thou my enemy O thou my friend How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust Do spare hours more thrive than, that spend, Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and breaks Now, leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again With fretty cherril, look, and fresh wind shakes Them; birds build – but not I build; no, but strain, Time’s enough, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
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Poetry Questions and AnswersRead the oral poem below and then answer the questions that follow.Her lip suckle the nipples Milk bubbles, foams and ripples Little hands up in the air Catch on the mother’s hair Sweet sensation rises in pressure Tiny legs kick with pleasure Sleep whispers softly and long
(Emusara Ossie Enekase)
Poetry Questions and AnswersRead the song below and then answer the questions that follow.Soloist : Greetings to you comrade warriors.Others: Greetings! Soloist: Do you know or you do not know me? Others : We do not know you? Soloist : I know you know me not For I am he who is known as Ole Pare who wears a loose ring And who owns stout steers and a healthy herd. That bears in the months of plenty. That are over-weight by fat. Others : Yes it is him indeed! Soloist : He that owns heifers with large stomachs. For whom the meadow is insufficient but who gets stuffed at the valleys. Where cow bells are removed1 As they are grazed together with those of the king’s Others: It is him! Soloist: I have the blue one with the horn. Whose beauty resists branding. Who leads the large herd of Kilapa2 Whose numbers pose difficulty when moving homes.
Read the following poem then answer the questions that follow
Read the poem below and answer the questions that follow.
Your nails are black with dirt, brother
And your palms are clammy with sweat I refuse to take the hand you extend in help I shall not join hands with you brother For unclean hands make me uneasy For filthy fingernails rob me of my pride. You argue, gesticulating with your once Impeccably clean and beautiful hands That before long it shall not matter For ‘everybody’ is delving and digging And all shall have hands dripping with dirt. |
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