FIGURES OF SPEECH FIGURES

SIMILE

DEFINITION
a figure of speech in which two unlike things are explicitly compared a figure of speech in which a term or phrase is applied to something to which it is not literally applicable in order to suggest a resemblance the use of words to convey a meaning that is the opposite of its literal meaning an extravagant statement or figure of speech not intended to be taken literally figure of speech in which a part is used for the whole or the whole for a part, the special for the general or the general for the special a digression in the form of an address to someone not present, or to a personified object or idea, the formation of a word, as cuckoo, meow, honk, or boom, by imitation of a sound made by or associated with its referent.

EXAMPLE
She is like a rose.

METAPHOR

A mighty fortress is our God.

IRONY

HYPERBOLE

The irony of her reply, How nice! when I said I had to work all weekend. To wait an eternity.

SYNEDOCHE

ten sail for ten ships

APOSTROPHE

O Death, where is thy sting?

ONOMATOPEIA

cuckoo, meow, honk, or boom,

EXAMPLES:

EPIC POETRY
Tiddalick - The Frog Who Caused a Flood In the time of dreaming Before the earth was old Myths were in the making Legends yet untold Here began a story Of one huge enormous frog Solemn in his glory He drank from every bog Tiddalick the great one Had to quench his mighty thirst He drank from all the waterholes So much he nearly burst He drained the lake and river The stream and billabong Soon there was no water left It was very wrong Others now grew thirsty There was no sign of rain Hot sun scorched the arid earth No water did remain Tiddalick's swollen stomach Was squelchy round and wide He was so big he couldn't move The water was inside Animals assembled Men gathered with them too They had to end this great distress And work out what to do Boomerangs were useless Spears bounced off his side

Getting angry didn't help Even though they tried The kookaburra had a plan We need to make him laugh To hold his side and open wide We need to show some gaffe If only we can do that The water will pour out We all must work together To end this mighty drought C'mon laugh you big fat frog You're like a bursting pot If only you could see yourself Squelching as you squat Tiddalick moved his mournful head He had a doleful face He didn't see the humour Of smiles there were no trace The kangaroo and platypus Wombat and emu All tried their best to make him laugh But Tiddalick stayed blue Some danced and some told stories Others somersaulted Tiddalick grew tired and bored And slept when antics halted The last to try was Norang the Eel He was their final hope He turned himself into a hoop And wriggled like a rope The rope stood upright on the sand Then it began to spin It went round like a whirlwind Tiddalick began to grin

Then out slopped some water Before it reached the sand Man and beast began to drink It worked like they had planned But Norang went on spinning Till he was scarcely seen Tiddalick began to chuckle It really made a scene As his belly rumbled The frog rocked to and fro With his hands upon his sides A stream began to flow Tiddalick's mouth was open wide With water gushing out A surging tidal river Spewed like a water spout It swept away the animals And covered all the sand A shining lake of water Had spread over the land Now Tiddalick has shrunken He's just a little frog Who sometimes hides in desert sands Or sits upon a log

left to persue their life roaming free west of the river. Then later came the strife. The Civil War had ended. White people wanted land. Farmers, miners, trappers, all moved west to try their hand. The timbermen and railroaders all helped to forge the way. Indian land, prime territory was where they meant to stay. The government had promised the Indian's salvation, so they signed a treaty to stay on a reservation. In exchange they'd get a payment but promises weren't kept. In desperate fighting for redress many tears were wept. Well-armed and well-fed soldiers had effectively destroyed the independent Indians now scattered and deployed. Their way of life has disappeared, with it old traditions. Now living in a white mans world under new conditions. It's so hard to find employment. They keep it all inside, malnutrition and dysfunction alcohol, suicide. Betrayed, their freedom stolen, they feel isolation. Indians endure their lives in

BALLAD
Betrayed The Indian removal act gave power to use force, to make the Indians retract past Mississippi's course. The Indians transplanted, were

quiet desperation.

METRICAL TALE
The Lady of Shallot Alfred Lord Tennyson Part I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shallot.

In among the bearded barley, Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to tower'd Camelot: And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairy Lady of Shallot." Part II There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shallot. And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot: There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village-churls, And the red cloaks of market girls, Pass onward from Shallot. Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, Goes by to tower'd Camelot; And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shallot. But in her web she still delights

Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shallot. By the margin, willow veil'd, Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd Skimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shallot? Only reapers, reaping early

To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, went to Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed: "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shallot. Part III A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley-sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shallot. The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down to Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, Beside remote Shallot. All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together, As he rode down to Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over still Shallot. His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;

On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shallot. Part IV In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And round about the prow she wrote The Lady of Shallot. And down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance-With a glassy countenance Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shallot. Lying, robed in snowy white

That loosely flew to left and right-The leaves upon her falling light-Thro' the noises of the night She floated down to Camelot: And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shallot. Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darken'd wholly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shallot. Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and burgher, lord and dame, And round the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shallot. Who is this? and what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they cross'd themselves for fear, All the knights at Camelot: But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shallot."

ODE
Ode to Aphrodite Sappho (c. 630-570 B.C.) Deathless Aphrodite, throned in flowers, Daughter of Zeus, O terrible enchantress, With this sorrow, with this anguish, break my spirit Lady, not longer! Hear anew the voice! O hear and listen! Come, as in that island dawn thou camest, Billowing in thy yoked car to Sappho Forth from thy father's Golden house in pity! ... I remember: Fleet and fair thy sparrows drew thee, beating Fast their wings above the dusky harvests, Down the pale heavens, Lightning anon! And thou, O blest and brightest, Smiling with immortal eyelids, asked me: "Maiden, what betideth thee? Or wherefore Callest upon me? "What is here the longing more than other, Here in this mad heart? And who the lovely One beloved that wouldst lure to loving? Sappho, who wrongs thee? "See, if now she flies, she soon must follow; Yes, if spurning gifts, she soon must offer; Yes, if loving not, she soon must love thee, Howso unwilling..." Come again to me! O now! Release me! End the great pang! And all my heart desireth Now of fulfillment, fulfill! O Aphrodite, Fight by my shoulder!

SONG
The Bacchai Euripides (480-406 B.C.) Where is the home for me? O Cyprus, set in the sea, Aphrodites home in the soft sea-foam, Would I lend to thee; Where in the wings of the Lovers are furled,

And faint the heart of the world! Ay, or to Paphos isle, Where the rainless meadows smile With riches rolled from the hundred-fold Mouths of the far-off Nile, Streaming beneath the waves To the roots of the seaward caves!

ECLOGUE
by Spencer Reece In Juno Beach, on Pelican Lake, Joseph Saul ate potato chips off a paper plate and fed the broken bits to a duck. He was accompanied by Laurie McGraw, whom he met at the Alzheimers Support Group she had been a caregiver, he had a diagnosis, and together their eyes vacantly connected. Laurie spelled her name with a large dot or a star atop the i. A born-again, with two failed marriages so far, she sent Joseph pamphlets in the mail about Jews who could be saved by Christ. On her day off, she washed her blind dog with soap. The two discussed the pleasure of naps. The duck strutted in uniformed plume, greasy black-green, speckled red pate, Sated, companioned, unbundling with poop, The duck thrust with the thrust of youth; Interior decorator of the lake, the duck Was flush with floor maps. Joseph oversaw The ducks scuffling as Laurie made a note to arrange another semidetached date.

DIRGE
Dirge COME away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O prepare it! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave To weep there!

ELEGY
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard by Thomas Gray The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.