Traditional Literature Chapter 6

What is traditional Literature?
Traditional Literature is the writtan form of stories that are part of the oral tradition of a culture, culture can be an ethnic group within a national border. (p 123)
This is when oral stories become written ones.
For example Cinderela and The Three Little Pigs. They are both traditional stories because there are SOOOOOOOOOO many versions of these books. They are stories that have been told for years, decades, centries and even longer than that too. Traditional literature elements are as follows plot, setting, characterization, style, theme, motifs and variants. Every culture has it's own style of traditional literature.
Traditional story books can get boring after a I really can not do that with this type of literature I am the type of person that needs more excitement that allows me to go beyond out of this world.

Poetry chapter 5

What is poetry? Why do we need it? Why is it important? Who cares about it?
Poetry is a musical language that skips, it sings and it tugs at you with an instant voice that rings in your head.(p89) Poetry creates love, harmony and sound of rhythm. Some people don't understand that poems really don't have to rhyme. I remember when I was in elementary I HATED reading poetry because i did not know how to understand it. I didn't know that you had to analyze the words to find the meaning of the poem. Now that I am older I understand that you don't just have to analyze it because everyone can interpret different meanings of the poem. But if you know the authors history ,and If you know about the type of life he lived. You are better able to understand where the author is coming from. I my comp. 2 class at Palo Alto I learned alot about poems, and I learned how to appreciate it alot better. Poem are all different some are about love, death, suicide, depression, family, everyday life and much much more. Here is one of my favorite poems. Read it analyze it and try to find out what it means.


My Papas Waltz


The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.

Theodore Roethke


And no this poem is not about the boy having an abusive father. Read it and try to understand it. I really liked this poem after I understood it.