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Greed
Posted by: Gabriella (---.dhcp.dsl.osm.huntel.net)
Date: November 27, 2004 03:52PM

I am doing a poetry presentation on greed & I was wondering if anybody had any poems that I could incorporate into it? I was thinking about maybe a poem about a child hoarding a toy or something about someone being murdered for greed. Any suggestions?


Re: Greed
Posted by: lg (---.ca.charter.com)
Date: November 27, 2004 11:44PM

Gabriella, there are plenty to choose from here:

[www.google.com] />

Les


Re: Greed
Posted by: Gabriella (---.dhcp.dsl.osm.huntel.net)
Date: November 28, 2004 07:28PM

Thanks for your help Les. There are a lot of of poems here, but I am looking for a couple of contempory poems that focus specifically on the topic of greed. These poems all seem to either not have the poems on their site or veer off the topic of greed.


Re: Greed
Posted by: RJAllen (193.114.111.---)
Date: November 29, 2004 12:23PM

Not contemporary, but otherwise ideal for your topic: Chaucer's Pardoner's Tale.


Re: Greed
Posted by: Marian-NYC (---.nyc1.dsl.speakeasy.net)
Date: November 29, 2004 02:11PM

Depending on what you mean by "contemporary," you might find something by going to www. bartleby.com and searching the VERSE database there for the word GREED (also AVARICE, GREEDY, etc.).

You could also try searching for poetry that features the word MORE. I just did that and found a poem about emotional greed, by Margaret Atwood:

[www.poemhunter.com]


Re: Greed
Posted by: matt (216.213.225.---)
Date: November 30, 2004 12:59PM

hey do you know a good poem with similes


Re: Greed
Posted by: lg (---.ca.charter.com)
Date: November 30, 2004 01:20PM

Here you go Matt, this guy does a pretty good job with similies:


Sonnet CXXX
by William Shakespeare

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.


Les




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