Bookworms. I don't even like the word. Still, it applies to me - I have been one as far back as I can remember and I cannot imagine life otherwise. The truth is that very few things match the pleasure of a good book and the joys, the knowledge it gives you. Don't tell me you don't have time to read. Don't tell me book lovers hide in books and forget to live; comfortable with second-hand experiences. Book lovers live a thousand lives, they write a thousand books, they travel in time and space. Book lovers are scary. They know so much, they have seen the depths of human souls, they have seen the light and touched the darkness, they have an understanding of things other people will never have.

"A good book should leave you slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading it."
William Styron

Monday, 2 June 2014

Sit, by Vikram Seth

The students created a Prezi based on the poem.


Sit, drink your coffee here; your work can wait awhile.
You're twenty-six, and still have some life ahead.
No need for wit; just talk vacuities, and I'll
Reciprocate in kind, or laugh at you instead.

The world is too opaque, distressing and profound.
This twenty minutes' rendezvous will make my day:
To sit here in the sun, with grackles all around,
Staring with beady eyes, and you two feet away. 


Work by Ana Rodrigues and Marina Vaz

Sunday, 1 June 2014

Antilamentation by Dorianne Laux

 You can find the original poem here.

Then the students created their own version of it.

Regret nothing
The moments you spent with him
The nights that left you sleepless
The feelings that he caused on you
The arguments and smiles you had together

Regret nothing
The strange jokes that you made
The times you were upset for no reason
The night he cuddled you to sleep
All the smiles on his face

Regret nothing
The days  you didn't follow her advice
The days you came home crying and she just hugged you
All the times you yelled at her
All the times that you told her "I love you"

Regret nothing
The days you fell asleep with him
The moments when you didn't want to see him
Everything he taught you

And don't regret being proud of him.

Work by Ariana Fernandes and Daniela Galvão 

The magic box, Kit Wright


This is the original poem (also to be seen in glogster)...


This is a mind map of the poem (which was used when explaining the poem to the class)

Mind map

and this is the magic box of our class...



Work by Ariana Fernandes and Daniela Galvão

Dead thick by Brian Patten

One of the students recorded the poem and the other mimed it creating a short video.




Then they attempted a translation into Portuguese.

Como uma porta



Não. Não tenho acompanhado as coisas modernas.
Não leio um livro há anos.
Livros de estudo? Alguns, mas nada de novo.
Reparem, não é que eu não
Tenha vontade, só que
Nada captou a minha atenção.
Mesmo assim, eu gosto do que li: Hardy,
Golding, folheio 
Graham Greene se tiver de ser.
Mas não, nada de novo. Reparem
Eu leio as críticas. Elas contêm
Muitas observações.
Após ler algumas vejo que
Posso criar a minha própria opinião.
Estou muito ocupado para a literatura, é esse o problema.
Estou à espera de uma promoção. Idealmente o que eu gostaria
Era um trabalho em administração.
O que é que eu faço? Ensino. Inglês.
É cansativo. Os alunos são burros.
Não têm nada entre as orelhas.
Sabe que mais? Alguns deles

Não lêem um livro há anos.

Funeral blues, W. H. Auden


Based on the poem below by W. H. Auden the students created a visual presentation that was displayed on the school grounds.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.


Work by Maria Beatriz and Filipa Pizarro

Neighbours by Benjamin Zephaniah





Here's the poem the students read and made into the video below.



Totally like whatever you know? by Taylor Mali

After reading the poem the students recorded their own voices and used the audio for a short video. Later on they decided to create a similar poem in Portuguese criticizing the way teens speak in their country.






Tipo bué de swag só que não

Não sei se já reparaste, mas, tipo
Perdeu a pica toda falar como se, sabes,
Soubesses o que tás a dizer..
Ou acreditares nessas cenas que acabaste de dizer..
Porque um gajo nem nota o que diz..
E, tipo, ya, fica mal, mas a gente tá tipo..
LOL quero lá saber..

Mas, tipo, esta cena fica bué mal..
A gente pensa que a falar com bué SWAG..
Mas no fim, é fatelas.. Toda a gente consegue ver..
Mas eu nao sou o primeiro a dizê-lo,
E apesar de falar da mesma maneira..
Sei que está errado.. E que fica mal..
Por isso peeps.. Acordem... Essa cena já passou..
Mas, olha, se curtes, continua, LOL, importo-me bué..
Só que não.


Work by Eduardo Afonso and Ali El-Zein

The British by Benjamin Zephaniah

The poem can be found here.

And this is the video with the whole recipe!



Work by Mariana Quina

The book of life based on a poem by Hilaire Belloc






http://issuu.com/anasoraia1235/docs/the_book_of_life.docx

Work by Ana Paula and Ana Soraia

Dreams by Langston Hughes






Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow. 






Work by Ana Paula and Ana Soraia