The border alberto rios

“The Border: A Double Sonnet” Worksheet You’re going to read a poem by Alberto Ríos called “The Border: A Double Sonnet.” Alberto Ríos was born in Nogales, Arizona to a mother from England and a father from Mexico. Ríos grew up speaking both Spanish and English, and spending time on both sides of the border, which at the time could be crossed freely. He got two degrees at the University of Arizona. In 2013, he was named the Arizona Poet Laureate, and he teaches at ASU. 1. Read the poem twice. The first time, read it out loud to yourself. The second time, underline or circle lines that stand out to you. You can find the poem here: https://poets.org/poem/border-double-sonnet 2. On a separate sheet of paper, answer the following questions: o What did you notice about this poem? Are there any lines that stood out to you? Why did they stand out? o What details does Ríos use to describe the border? What senses (look, smell, touch, see, hear)? o What poetic techniques or literary devices does Ríos use to write the poem? Why do you think he uses these techniques? o How does this poem make you feel? 3. On a separate sheet of paper, write your own poem using repetition and metaphor, copying the style that Ríos uses in “The Border: A Double Sonnet.” Choose a place that is part of the region where you live. (Examples for students in Tucson: “the border,” “the desert”, “Tucson”, “Barrio Hollywood”, “Mt. Lemmon”, “Nogales.”) Write at least 7 lines—if you’re feeling ambitious you can make it fourteen! 5. Congratulations--you’ve just written a poem! The Border: A Double Sonnet “Alberto Ríos 2015”- 1952The border is a line that birds cannot see. The border is a beautiful piece of paper folded carelessly in half. The border is where flint first met steel, starting a century of fires. The border is a belt that is too tight, holding things up but making it hard to breathe. The border is a rusted hinge that does not bend. The border is the blood clot in the river’s vein. The border says stop to the wind, but the wind speaks another language, and keeps going. The border is a brand, the “Double-X” of barbed wire scarred into the skin of so many. The border has always been a welcome stopping place but is now a stop sign, always red. The border is a jump rope still there even after the game is finished. The border is a real crack in an imaginary dam. The border used to be an actual place, but now, it is the act of a thousand imaginations. The border, the word border, sounds like order, but in this place they do not rhyme. The border is a handshake that becomes a squeezing contest. The border smells like cars at noon and wood smoke in the evening. The border is the place between the two pages in a book where the spine is bent too far. The border is two men in love with the same woman. The border is an equation in search of an equals sign. The border is the location of the factory where lightning and thunder are made. The border is “NoNo” The Clown, who can’t make anyone laugh. The border is a locked door that has been promoted. The border is a moat but without a castle on either side. The border has become Checkpoint Chale. The border is a place of plans constantly broken and repaired and broken. The border is mighty, but even the parting of the seas created a path, not a barrier. The border is a big, neat, clean, clear black line on a map that does not exist. The border is the line in new bifocals: below, small things get bigger; above, nothing changes. The border is a skunk with a white line down its back. Copyright © 2015 by Alberto Ríos. Used with permission of the author.