Biographies

• Online Databases:

  • American National Biography More than 18,000 articles about famous Americans no longer living. Many articles include helpful Web links.

  • Biographies Plus Illustrated Contains over 95,000 biographies and obituaries, thousands of biographical magazine articles, and over 26,000 printable photographs of the subjects.    **A Cincinnati Public Library Card is required.**

  • Encyclopedia Britannica Three encyclopedias (100,000+ articles), atlas, dictionary, images and video clips, reviewed Web sites, magazine articles, and more.

   

• Websites:

  • Biography A collection of biographies on famous people both ancient and modern by the creators of the Biography Channel and Biography Magazine.

  • Eric Weisstein's World of Scientific Biography Biographies of scientists throughout history.

  • PBS Biographies Click on the person and then "Timeline" or "Special Features" to learn about the person's life.

  • Women in World History Biographies Biographies of heroes and world rulers who helped define the times in which they lived.

Grammar

• Online Databases:

  • Learning Express Library Interactive online practice tests and tutorial course series designed to help students succeed on academic tests.

   

• Websites:

  • Online English Grammar Online reference and guide for English grammar, writing, punctuation and learning.

  • OWL Purdue Online Writing Lab Handouts and exercises on grammar, spelling, and punctuation. 

News

• Online Databases:

  • Ebscohost Newspapers Articles from more than 6,000 magazines and newspapers are indexed, most in full text, from children's magazines to professional research.

  • Newsbank Newspapers A collection of full-text newspapers available online. More than 15 titles are Ohio publications.

   

• Websites:

  • Google News

  • Yahoo News

  • Headline Spot

Poetry

• Click here for some of your teachers' favorite poems.

• Click here to see the list of students' original poems.

• Poetry Websites:

  • Poets.org This is the official website of the American Academy of Poets, who founded National Poetry Month in April of 1996. Their purpose was to bring together publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools, and poets around the country to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture. This award-winning website contains thousands of poems as well as hundreds of poet biographies, essays, interviews, and poetry recordings.

  • Library of Congress Poetry Page The Library of Congress offers online poetry resources for teachers, students, and librarians. Included are web-casts and recorded poetry, reference resources, and 180 poems for American high schools recommended by former Poet Laureate Billy Collins.

  • National Poetry Foundation The Poetry Foundation, publisher of Poetry magazine, is an independent literary organization committed to a vigorous presence for poetry in our culture. Poetry magazine is available on this website.

  • Poets Corner This free site from Thomson Gale features poetry activities, biographies of famous poets, poetry websites, famous poems, a poetry quiz, and a poetry timeline.

  • Poem Hunter This is a search engine strictly for poems, poets, lyrics, quotations, etc. Fabulous!

  • PBS Poetry Page Submit original poems, enjoy poems by other students, read essays about writing and enjoying poetry, and much more…

  • Instant Poetry Forms Think you can’t write poetry? Think again! Anyone can write a poem using these helpful templates.

  • 30 Ways to Celebrate National Poetry Month I particularly like “Start a poetry reading group.” Anyone interested? See Mrs. Walker.

  • 12 Famous American Poets This research project of twelve famous American poets was created by high school students. Enjoy reading biographies of these great writers and the students’ analyses of the poems. A Glossary of Poetic Devices is included.

  • Education World: Sites to See These poetry sites provide teachers and students with practical help for writing poetry, resources for poet studies, and opportunities to experience the sheer pleasure of reading poetry.

  • International Library of Poetry Over 5.1 million poets have submitted poetry to this site, and you can too.

  • Poets and Writers Includes a searchable database of over 7,000 writers; advice on topics such as copyright, publishing, and finding a writers conference; along with links to over 1,500 Web sites of interest to writers. Another popular feature is the Speakeasy Message Forum, which serves as a central meeting place and community center for writers.

  • Poetry Archives Contains thousands of classical poems; searchable by first-line, author, and poem title.

Teachers' Favorite Poems

Ms. Applegate              

Ms. Barga              

Mr. Buchheit                   

Ms. Donisi

Ms. Haines  

Mr. Harmon

Ms. Lewis-Thornton

Ms. Lyle

Ms. Seifert

Mr. Shea

Ms. Simpson                    

Ms. Soderquist

Ms. Thorman                

Ms. Walker

Ms. Applegate:

Her favorite poet is Shel Silverstein, author of Where the Sidewalk Ends, The Giving Tree, A Light in the Attic, and other great books of poetry.

Ms. Barga:

Those Winter Sundays

by Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in weekday weather made

banked fires blaze.  No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he’d call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love’s austere and lonely offices?

Ms. Barga says: “This is my favorite poem lately. Someone pointed it out to me and when I read it I realized how much it said about love in three short stanzas.”

Mr. Buchheit:

It Couldn't Be Done

by Edgar A. Guest

Somebody said it couldn't be done.

But he with a chuckle replied,

That maybe it couldn't, but he would be one

Who wouldn't say so 'till he'd tried.

So he buckled right in with a trace of a grin

On his face. If he worried, he hid it.

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn't be done. And he did.

Somebody scoffed, "Oh, you'll never do that

At least no one ever has done it."

But he took off his coat, and he took off his hat,

And the first thing we know, he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,

Without any doubting or "quit-it".

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn't done. And he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done.

There are thousands to prophesy failure.

There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,

The dangers that wait to assail you

But just buckle in, with a bit of a grin;

Just take off your coat and go to it.

Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing

That cannot be done--and you'll do it!

Ms. Donisi:

Invictus

by William Ernest Henley

OUT of the night that covers me,

  Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

  For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

  I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

  My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

  Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

  Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

  How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

  I am the captain of my soul.

Ms. Donisi says: “Several years ago, a student gave me this poem because she felt that it spoke to her situation.  Although the language is challenging, I believe that the message is universal and speaks to our students.”

Ms. Haines and Ms. Simpson:

Mother to Son
by Langston Hughes

Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps.
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now—
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

Ms. Haines says: “The students can really relate to this poem.  It encourages them to persevere through anything.”

Ms. Simpson says: “I gave this to my son last year when he was going through a rough time. It really helped him.”

Mr. Harmon:

Two Lonely Shipwrecks

by Wayne Harmon

In a far away land, in a quiet lagoon,

  Buried beneath the waves, so cold,

Sits a lonely shipwreck, forgotten and crushed,

  Where an octopus sleeps on the gold.

Found in a bottle, sealed by a cork,

  Floating away out to sea,

An “X” marks the spot, on a tattered old map

  Showing where the treasure would be.

A plan was devised, and a ship was secured,

  With rigging, and sailors to boot,

To sail to the spot, and dive for the gold,

  To make themselves wealthy with loot.

A rumor was leaked, and pirates found out.

  They hurried to meet them at sea.

A battle began, a fight bravely fought,

  To determine whom the victor would be.

With the old map in hand, and no time to waste

  The pirates quickly set sail.

To the lonely lagoon, and the treasure of gold,

  A hurricane hot on their trail.

Just short of their goal, and fighting the storm

  The wind tears their sails free.

The poor ship is thrown and crushed on the rocks

  And slowly sinks into the sea.

In a far away land, in a quiet lagoon,

  Buried beneath the waves, so cold,

Sit two lonely shipwrecks, forgotten and crushed,

  Where an octopus sleeps on the gold.

Ms. Lewis-Thornton and Ms. Thorman:

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Ms. Lyle:

To Ye Virgins, To Make Much Of Time

by Robert Herrick

GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,

   Old time is still a-flying :

And this same flower that smiles to-day

   To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

   The higher he's a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run,

   And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

   When youth and blood are warmer ;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

   Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,

   And while ye may go marry :

For having lost but once your prime

   You may for ever tarry.

Ms. Lyle says: “I like the whole ‘live while you can’ theme and think it applies to people of all ages.”

Ms. Seifert and Mr. Shea:

If

by Rudyard Kipling

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Ms. Soderquist:

Let America Be America Again

by Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.

Let it be the dream it used to be.

Let it be the pioneer on the plain

Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--

Let it be that great strong land of love

Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme

That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty

Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,

But opportunity is real, and life is free,

Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,

Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?

And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,

I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.

I am the red man driven from the land,

I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--

And finding only the same old stupid plan

Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,

Tangled in that ancient endless chain

Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!

Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!

Of work the men! Of take the pay!

Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.

I am the worker sold to the machine.

I am the Negro, servant to you all.

I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--

Hungry yet today despite the dream.

Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!

I am the man who never got ahead,

The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream

In the Old World while still a serf of kings,

Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,

That even yet its mighty daring sings

In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned

That's made America the land it has become.

O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas

In search of what I meant to be my home--

For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,

And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,

And torn from Black Africa's strand I came

To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free?  Not me?

Surely not me?  The millions on relief today?

The millions shot down when we strike?

The millions who have nothing for our pay?

For all the dreams we've dreamed

And all the songs we've sung

And all the hopes we've held

And all the flags we've hung,

The millions who have nothing for our pay--

Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--

The land that never has been yet--

And yet must be--the land where every man is free.

The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--

Who made America,

Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,

Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,

Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--

The steel of freedom does not stain.

From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,

We must take back our land again,

America!

O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath--

America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,

The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,

We, the people, must redeem

The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.

The mountains and the endless plain--

All, all the stretch of these great green states--

And make America again!

on a shorter note?

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

 With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

  Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame

  I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

  I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

  I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

  I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

  I rise

 I rise

 I rise. 

*************************************************

 Fog

by Carl Sandburg

THE fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

Ms. Walker:

Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

by William Wordsworth

X

   ...Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

    We will grieve not, rather find

     Strength in what remains behind....

Ms. Walker says: “The entire poem is much longer than this. Look it up here if you are interested in reading the whole thing. This line was quoted in a book that I read when I was in junior high school. I've liked it ever since."

Students' Original Poems:

Why

by Anonymous

Western Hills University High School

I write, and write, and write

But does it matter, does it change a life.

Can it save anyone from death? I see people doing things and it helps people.

What do I do? Nothing.

Does it help, I don’t know.

I ask God should I write what I want to see,

But all I hear is silence, what I write just tells me to die.

But I can’t, for I see someone stopping me.

Why, because she loves no one, and I see that.

I ask God again do I write for her, and still no answer.

I feel drifted from her when I don’t see her or hear from her.

I wonder why I let this happen; I never wanted her to drift away.

Can I stop it?

God tell me how.

But He still won’t answer,

And I wonder why?

Love

by Anonymous

Western Hills University High School

Love is a passion

A belief

A thing that only happens once

Can it be shown?

Expressed

I think that love can happen more than once

But true love only happens once

I have had love and lost love

But true love I’ve found

True love I want to keep

To have

To be with for the rest of my life

Love is a passion

A belief

It can be expressed

Through all different ways.

A Puzzle For My True Love

by David Jones

Western Hills Design Technology High School

Broken into a million pieces,
Each shattered to a million more,
An impossible task to put together,
A life long lasting chore.

With all the patience in the world,
I couldn't put together my own heart,
Even with some helping hands,
No idea where to start.

The pain agonizes my internal soul,
Fragments inflicting mortal wounds,
Burning inside me like a flaming coal,
Wishing to heal ‘n jus’ be cool.

But my life isn't a fairy tale,
There's no happy ending to my cause,
My wishes are to no command,
This game to her was just on pause.

Moving on was just my hope,
But after she left i felt no motion,
Crying used to help me cope,
Drenching my pillow with its tear-dropped ocean.

But it's been a long time since,
I been able to ease my pain,
Lifting weights to dull it out,
Or sitting idle in the rain.

And even after a month,
My heart didn't really heal,
I still feel the pain she caused,
Can't believe this dream is real.

Even in this time that passed,
I never found my loving place,
Whether it be somewhere distant,
Or directly in my face.
To live happily ever after,
And move on without a trace,
Of the pain i once endured,
My one and only will erase.

In my true love’s arms,
My love will never fade,
I long for that moment,
So my heart is never played.
She will kiss me on the cheek,
Yet making me feel secure,
Over zealous yet so weak,
U make me want you more.

After all this pain,
I will finally be complete,
My love will be it's best,
Even when i go to sleep,
Every piece will be at rest.

Goddess Under Moonlight

by David Jones

Western Hills Design Technology High School

A goddess stands before me,
And I'm unable to talk,
She beckons me to come,
But I'm unable to walk.

Her smile makes me melt,
And makes my heart flutter,
My love is radiantly felt,
Mind creeping to the gutter.

Her body shaped so perfect,
Hips and all mesmerizing,
She rocks back and fourth,
Lips controlling- hypnotizing.

A splitting image of my bliss,
She's the morning of my soul,
With a fateful loving kiss,
She will have my heart’s whole.

Even though she's a goddess,
And I'm a wife wanting lover,
Give me the chance to have her,
No one will be held above her.

Our eyes will speak silent words,
Locked into a blinkless gaze,
And our hearts will sing like birds,
Mourning to be healed from pain.

An eternal ever lasting passion,
Indescribable attractive crave,
Secretly bonding without notice,
Soon to be her slave.

As I slowly open up to speak,
She takes a step away,
I want to see her before she goes,
As darkness turns to day.

The moonlight goddess eyes,
Forever kept my stare,
From the perfection of her smile,
To every strand of hair,
Under the gleaming night,
I took the utmost care,
To turn away with tears,
My heart i would not bare.

David’s Poem

by David Jones

Western Hills Design Technology High School

A shapeless form,

Both versatile and vital,

Could be harmless or fatal;

Constricting, it’s binding,

Its endless flow is forever finding,

Present in soul, and never absent-minding.

It could gather in clusters,

Rain down on your parade,

It’s your oasis in the desert,

Your everlasting shade.

Deep and calm,

Its darkness reflects beautiful surfaces,

Staring back with beauty,

Silently Rippling,

Slowly crippling,

Crashing gentle waves.

As it gathers, it gets heavy,

Weighing down upon its holder,

Contained in any shape,

Any form,

It rages in anger,

Beware of its storm.

However, its beauty is eternal,

Its vitality is legendary,

Overwhelming Gods and Goddesses,

Inevitable to avoid.

In the hands of evil,

It could be murderous…

An overwhelming mourning,

It’s deception creative,

Forming,

The most unstoppable frenzy.

A vengeance; forever told enslavement,

Its hardness structure like glass,

A diamond polished rough surface,

Sharper than a sword,

Inflicting stabbing pains…

It could flood you with fear,

Or with kindness,

It’s never fake when true.

So…

As those who spent years,

Searching for this fountain,

Of forever flowing eternity,

Rumored its fountain flowed of pure liquid,

The confusion killed many,

Drowning them in selflessness.

This eternal “liquid” has been found.