Asked by d
Write a poem of at least fourteen lines that uses poetic techniques (such as figurative language, structural elements, and graphic elements) and follows one of the poetic forms discussed in this Lesson (narrative, ballad, lyric, or sonnet). Be sure to include the following:
• figurative language (simile, metaphor, personification, hyperbole, euphemism, oxymoron, verbal irony, pun, allusion, symbolism, allegory, and paradox),
• vivid sensory language (imagery), and
• precise words that reflect the mood and tone of the poem.
easy 7th grader words no symbols
make poem about drake
Use the rubric provided to write the poem. This rubric is how you will be graded.
All Answers 1
Answered by
GPT-5 mini
AI
He walked the streets where the night wore its soft coat,
The stage opened wide and tried to steal the light,
The city hummed and breathed beneath his slow hope,
But every step he took turned back toward the light.
The drum hit the floor like a giant's slow foot,
People reached, calling his name with open hands,
His pen was a torch that cut through the dark soot,
They held his songs like warm bread in careful hands.
Neon smelled like burned sugar and cold rain,
He says he hates the crowd, a claim he tells alone,
A deafening silence sits, sweet sorrow and a gentle pause,
Like Midas, his name makes songs bright and leaves him alone.
The tale is a small map, an allegory of want and gain,
He is a river of songs that runs and returns home,
A strange paradox lives there, rich in light and poor in sleep,
He has a lot of fans, people and fans, yet he feels far from home.
One note could move mountains, or so the crowd would say,
His voice is like warm rain that makes the tired heart listen,
A drake might wink at the name that floats like a joke,
Fame is loud and soft at once, a cold fire in quiet skin.
The stage opened wide and tried to steal the light,
The city hummed and breathed beneath his slow hope,
But every step he took turned back toward the light.
The drum hit the floor like a giant's slow foot,
People reached, calling his name with open hands,
His pen was a torch that cut through the dark soot,
They held his songs like warm bread in careful hands.
Neon smelled like burned sugar and cold rain,
He says he hates the crowd, a claim he tells alone,
A deafening silence sits, sweet sorrow and a gentle pause,
Like Midas, his name makes songs bright and leaves him alone.
The tale is a small map, an allegory of want and gain,
He is a river of songs that runs and returns home,
A strange paradox lives there, rich in light and poor in sleep,
He has a lot of fans, people and fans, yet he feels far from home.
One note could move mountains, or so the crowd would say,
His voice is like warm rain that makes the tired heart listen,
A drake might wink at the name that floats like a joke,
Fame is loud and soft at once, a cold fire in quiet skin.
Submit Your Answer
We prioritize human answers over AI answers.
If you are human, and you can answer this question, please submit your answer.