DiscoveryAh.Here it comes again.Giggling,Effervescent,It begins in the lowest levels of my belly,Creeps up to engulf my heart,Lightens my head.It makes me dizzy.Laughter bubbles about inside my mouthTickling my teethDancing on my tongue…Bursting out!See how it brightens the sun,Clears the skies,Softens the rain.Everyone smiles.“She’s in love,” they whisper,And I hear.Am I?I am … oh, yes,IAm.I love the personWho isMe.—by Toni MosleyNear the end of the poem, the poet places the words “I,” “Am,” and “Me” on separate lines in order to emphasize heralove of life bindependencecconceitedness dsense of humour

There is a tree I loveAnd she loves meSentient beings call her home,She is their worldTheir womb of GodKnowing only here.She sings out the perfectionThe rightness, the holy stillness of all life.She says don't be afraid.It is all unfolding as it shouldBut I am scared.She reminds me:You don't begin or end.You are, you were and you will beStardust sparkles in your eyes.The planets occupy your bonesOnce upon a timeYou were split about the universeI am the breeze that sings its way into me,I am the sunshine smiling on me,I am the rain that quenches me,I am the food that enters my roots,No boundary between life and life.Expand outside of me,Swirl around me,Dance across the field to you.Through the fence and kiss you.You breathe in a little of me,I breathe in a little of you.And when you leave this place,I will not mourn your return homefrom where you came.I will continue to reach upwards, outwardsIn celebration foreverOf the beautiful miracle of you,Of me, of all life.

Lady LazarusBY SYLVIA PLATHI have done it again.   One year in every ten   I manage it——A sort of walking miracle, my skin   Bright as a Nazi lampshade,   My right footA paperweight,My face a featureless, fine   Jew linen.Peel off the napkin   O my enemy.   Do I terrify?——The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?   The sour breathWill vanish in a day.Soon, soon the fleshThe grave cave ate will be   At home on meAnd I a smiling woman.   I am only thirty.And like the cat I have nine times to die.This is Number Three.   What a trashTo annihilate each decade.What a million filaments.   The peanut-crunching crowd   Shoves in to seeThem unwrap me hand and foot——The big strip tease.   Gentlemen, ladiesThese are my hands   My knees.I may be skin and bone,Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.   The first time it happened I was ten.   It was an accident.The second time I meantTo last it out and not come back at all.   I rocked shutAs a seashell.They had to call and callAnd pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.DyingIs an art, like everything else.   I do it exceptionally well.I do it so it feels like hell.   I do it so it feels real.I guess you could say I’ve a call.It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.   It’s the theatricalComeback in broad dayTo the same place, the same face, the same brute   Amused shout:‘A miracle!’That knocks me out.   There is a chargeFor the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge   For the hearing of my heart——It really goes.And there is a charge, a very large charge   For a word or a touch   Or a bit of bloodOr a piece of my hair or my clothes.   So, so, Herr Doktor.   So, Herr Enemy.I am your opus,I am your valuable,   The pure gold babyThat melts to a shriek.   I turn and burn.Do not think I underestimate your great concern.Ash, ash—You poke and stir.Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——A cake of soap,   A wedding ring,   A gold filling.Herr God, Herr Lucifer   BewareBeware.Out of the ashI rise with my red hair   And I eat men like air.

Read the poem carefully, and answer the following question.I smiled at you because I thought that youWere someone else; you smiled back; and theregrewBetween two strangers in a librarySomething that seems like love; but you lovedme(If that’s the word) because you thought that IWas other than I was. And by and byWe found we’d been mistaken all the whileFrom that first glance, that first mistaken smileWhich of the following CANNOT be inferred from the poem?

by Rabindranath TagoreWe both live in the same village and that is our one piece of joy.The yellow bird sings in their tree and makes my heart dance with gladness.Her pair of pet lambs come to graze near the shade of our garden.If they stray into our barley field I take them up in my arms.The name of our village is Khanjuna, and Anjana they call our river;My name is known to all the village and her name is Ranjana.Only one field lies between us.Bees that have hived in our grove go to seek honey in theirs.Flowers launched from their landing stairs come floating by the stream where we bathe.Baskets of dried kusm flowers come from their fields to our market.The name of our village is Khanjuna, and Anjana they call our river;My name is known to all the village and her name is Ranjana.The lane that winds to their house is fragrant in the spring with mango flowers.When their linseed is ripe for harvest, the hemp is in bloom in our field.The stars that smile on their cottage send us the same twinkling look.The rain that floods their tank makes glad our Kadam forest.The name of our village is Khanjuna, and Anjana they call our river;My name is known to all the village and her name is Ranjana.A Poem of Changganby Li PoMy hair had hardly covered my forehead.I was picking flowers, playing by my door,When you, my lover, on a bamboo horse,Came trotting in circles and throwing green plums.We lived near together on a lane in Ch'ang-kan,Both of us young and happy-hearted.. . .At fourteen I became your wife,So bashful that I dared not smile,And I lowered my head toward a dark cornerAnd would not turn to your thousand calls;But at fifteen I straightened my brows and laughed,Learning that no dust could ever seal our love,That even unto death I would await you by my postAnd would never lose heart in the tower of silent watching.. . .Then when I was sixteen, you left on a long journeyThrough the Gorges of Ch'u-t'ang, of rock and whirling water.And then came the Fifth-month, more than I could bear,And I tried to hear the monkeys in your lofty far-off sky.Your footprints by our door, where I had watched you go,Were hidden, every one of them, under green moss,Hidden under moss too deep to sweep away.And the first autumn wind added fallen leaves.And now, in the Eighth-month, yellowing butterfliesHover, two by two, in our west-garden grassesAnd, because of all this, my heart is breakingAnd I fear for my bright cheeks, lest they fade.. . .Oh, at last, when you return through the three Pa districts,Send me a message home ahead!And I will come and meet you and will never mind the distance,All the way to Chang-feng Sha.3Select the correct answer.Which theme do both passages convey? A. Both poems express the affection the speakers feel for the people they love. B. Both poems express the gratitude the speakers feel for uncomplicated things. C. Both poems express the nostalgia the speakers feel when they think about their childhood. D. Both poems express the helplessness the speakers feel when they think about their lives.

You go by your day, rushing through the busy streetsand pay no mind to those who stop halfwayunravel in dark corners and let themselves breathbut if you looked in those corners,You'd find her right there,Disguised by the darknessand the curls in her hairHer nose in a book,With her head in the clouds,hiding her feelings,away from the menacing crowdIf you sat by her side,While the world went awry,She'd tell you the story, behind the pain in her eyes.If you peered through her ribcage, you'd see an empty space,from those she gave her heart towho didn't put it back in its placethe brain within her skull is so flooded it could drown In names of people who said they loved her,but didn't stick around.If you gave her five minutes of your time, You'd see how her smile,makes the worst things in existenceseem worthwhileBut you don't look in those corners,You don't even spare her a glanceSo she sits and waits in those corners, waiting to be given a chance