Poetry

Funeral Blues:

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; - Hyperbole and alliteration.
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. -Emotive language
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. 

-Everything rhymes. 

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; - Hyperbole and alliteration.
This was effective because it shows that, that person was important to the author.
The author claimed him as his noon, midnight, talk, and song.
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. -Emotive language. This was effective because it shows us what the author felt and I think other people can relate to this as well.