Poem

My Papa's Waltz
By :Theodore Roethke

The whiskey on your breath

Could make a small boy dizzy;

But I hung on like death:

Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans

Slid from the kitchen shelf;

My mother’s countenance

Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist

Was battered on one knuckle;

At every step you missed

My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head

With a palm caked hard by dirt,

Then waltzed me off to bed

Still clinging to your shirt.

Imagery : Breath ,wrist ,ear.

Rhyme : (buckle , knuckle) (breath, death)

Theme : The theme of this poem is that a father and his son don't spend a lot time together so the father come home drunk and his son is waiting for him wake them they start to play around.

Rhythm: Iambic trimester