an "ACROSTIC POEM" means and
write an acrostic poem on the little "The Brave Little
Kite."
To
Answers
Answer:
An acrostic poem means a poem that forms a word with the first letter of each line in it.
"The Brave, Little Kite"
'Tis a bundle of joy
Howling wind and passing breeze
Echoes of silence, drops of solitude,
Brave it's soul, prettier the heart
Roaring kite flies so high.
A kite that must surpass all boundaries
Vines of grapes, stuck in tree branches
Err it flies again with all it's might.
Little it soars, little it hops
In the empty air, hop hop hop
Twittering birds flies by
Twittering birds flies by
Large, smooth and happy the kite.
Enormous its joy, little its pride.
Kite with might.
It is so high
Till it touches heaven and back
Enigmatic the kite, charismatic its might.
Answer:
Example
Explanation:
Sunshine warming my toes,
Underwater fun with my friends.
Making homemade ice cream on the porch,
Many long nights catching fireflies.
Early morning walks to the creek,
Reveling in the freedom of lazy days.
Edgar Allan Poe's "An Acrostic":
Elizabeth is in vain you say
"Love not"-thou sayest it in so sweet a way:
In vain those words from thee or L.E.L.
Zantippe's talents had enforced so well:
Ah! if that language from thy heart arise,
Breath it less gently forth-and veil thine eyes.
Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried
To cure his love-was cured of all beside-
His follie-pride-and passion-for he died.
Lewis Carroll wrote Through the Looking Glass for a real little girl named Alice Pleasance Liddell. One of the chapters of the story is an acrostic of her name:
A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July -
Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear -
Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.
Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.
Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.
In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream -
Lingering in the golden gleam -
Life, what is it but a dream?