Comparing Poetry and Art Answers

Read the poem "Sonnet in Primary Colors” by Rita Dove.This is for the woman with one black wingperched over her eyes: lovely Frida, erectamong parrots, in the stern petticoats of the peasant,who painted herself a present—wildflowers entwining the plaster corsether spine resides in, that flaming pillar—this priestess in the romance of mirrors.Each night she lay down in pain and roseto the celluloid butterflies of her Beloved Dead,Lenin and Marx and Stalin arrayed at the footstead.And rose to her easel, the hundred dogs pantinglike children along the graveled walks of the garden, Diego’slove a skull in the circular windowof the thumbprint searing her immutable brow.

Which phrase from the poem "Monet’s ‘Waterlilies’” by Robert Hayden is an example of a simile?

Read the lines from Robert Hayden’s poem "Monet’s ‘Waterlilies,’” then look at the detail from Claude Monet’s painting Water Lilies.Today as the news from Selma and Saigonpoisons the air like fallout,I come again to seethe serene, great picture that I love.

What evidence supports the conclusion that the poem is written in free verse? Select two options.

Which lines from "Sonnet in Primary Colors” by Rita Dove provide an example of a rhyme?

The rhyme pattern that occurs at the ends of lines in poetry is called

Which line from the poem "Monet’s ‘Waterlilies’” by Robert Hayden includes an allusion?

Which lines from the poem "Sonnet in Primary Colors” by Rita Dove provide an example of alliteration?

Which words from "Monet’s ‘Waterlilies’” by Robert Hayden most appeals to the sense of sight?

Read Rita Dove’s poem "Sonnet in Primary Colors,” then study Frida Kahlo’s painting Self-Portrait with Monkey and Parrot.This is for the woman with one black wingperched over her eyes: lovely Frida, erectamong parrots, in the stern petticoats of the peasant,who painted herself a present—wildflowers entwining the plaster corsether spine resides in, that flaming pillar—this priestess in the romance of mirrors.Each night she lay down in pain and roseto the celluloid butterflies of her Beloved Dead,Lenin and Marx and Stalin arrayed at the footstead.And rose to her easel, the hundred dogs pantinglike children along the graveled walks of the garden, Diego’slove a skull in the circular windowof the thumbprint searing her immutable brow.