As s es s i ng Lit er a t u r e Isagani R. Cruz President, The Manila Times College Globe: 0917-904-0968 Smart: 0921-494-0472 Sun: 0933-489-4544 [email protected] This presentation can be downloaded from: http://kto12plusphilippines.com/
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Assessing Literature
Isagani R. Cruz
President, The Manila Times College
Globe: 0917-904-0968
Smart: 0921-494-0472
Sun: 0933-489-4544
This presentation can be downloaded from: http://kto12plusphilippines.com/
memorize
paraphrase
interpret
deconstruct
critique
write
DepEd Order No. 8,
s. 2015, Appendix A
“Flush” by Luisa Igloria (2014)Love is the opening of the heart, the welcoming of your beloved. Birdling, tiny thing that bumps head-on, unwittingly, into the glass — you are not yet the announcing angel. Like you I’ve been distracted by the flicker on surfaces, yellow-green, light-dusted, feathery as eyelashes. What do you see as you stop to take a breath, as you teeter, then center, weight full on the ledge? Indentations in the stucco: imperfect, unlevel — clumsy as a new lover’s caress, yet punctuated with ardor. I lie beneath the sill, hair in disarray, attempting repose. It is either the moment before or the moment after. When you find your bearings and flit away, your shadow mimics the pulse fluttering at my throat: momentary touch, what visited there last. http://luisaigloria.com/archives/1576
“Flush” by Luisa Igloria (2014)Love is the opening of the heart, the welcoming of your beloved. Birdling, tiny thing that bumps head-on, unwittingly, into the glass — you are not yet the announcing angel. Like you I’ve been distracted by the flicker on surfaces, yellow-green, light-dusted, feathery as eyelashes. What do you see as you stop to take a breath, as you teeter, then center, weight full on the ledge? Indentations in the stucco: imperfect, unlevel — clumsy as a new lover’s caress, yet punctuated with ardor. I lie beneath the sill, hair in disarray, attempting repose. It is either the moment before or the moment after. When you find your bearings and flit away, your shadow mimics the pulse fluttering at my throat: momentary touch, what visited there last. http://luisaigloria.com/archives/1576
memorize
“Flush” by Luisa Igloria (2014)Love is the opening of the heart, the welcoming of your beloved. Birdling, tiny thing that bumps head-on, unwittingly, into the glass — you are not yet the announcing angel. Like you I’ve been distracted by the flicker on surfaces, yellow-green, light-dusted, feathery as eyelashes. What do you see as you stop to take a breath, as you teeter, then center, weight full on the ledge? Indentations in the stucco: imperfect, unlevel — clumsy as a new lover’s caress, yet punctuated with ardor. I lie beneath the sill, hair in disarray, attempting repose. It is either the moment before or the moment after. When you find your bearings and flit away, your shadow mimics the pulse fluttering at my throat: momentary touch, what visited there last. http://luisaigloria.com/archives/1576
paraphrase
“Flush” by Luisa Igloria (2014)Love is the opening of the heart, the welcoming of your beloved. Birdling, tiny thing that bumps head-on, unwittingly, into the glass — you are not yet the announcing angel. Like you I’ve been distracted by the flicker on surfaces, yellow-green, light-dusted, feathery as eyelashes. What do you see as you stop to take a breath, as you teeter, then center, weight full on the ledge? Indentations in the stucco: imperfect, unlevel — clumsy as a new lover’s caress, yet punctuated with ardor. I lie beneath the sill, hair in disarray, attempting repose. It is either the moment before or the moment after. When you find your bearings and flit away, your shadow mimics the pulse fluttering at my throat: momentary touch, what visited there last. http://luisaigloria.com/archives/1576
interpret
“Flush” by Luisa Igloria (2014)Love is the opening of the heart, the welcoming of your beloved. Birdling, tiny thing that bumps head-on, unwittingly, into the glass — you are not yet the announcing angel. Like you I’ve been distracted by the flicker on surfaces, yellow-green, light-dusted, feathery as eyelashes. What do you see as you stop to take a breath, as you teeter, then center, weight full on the ledge? Indentations in the stucco: imperfect, unlevel — clumsy as a new lover’s caress, yet punctuated with ardor. I lie beneath the sill, hair in disarray, attempting repose. It is either the moment before or the moment after. When you find your bearings and flit away, your shadow mimics the pulse fluttering at my throat: momentary touch, what visited there last. http://luisaigloria.com/archives/1576
deconstruct
“Flush” by Luisa Igloria (2014)Love is the opening of the heart, the welcoming of your beloved. Birdling, tiny thing that bumps head-on, unwittingly, into the glass — you are not yet the announcing angel. Like you I’ve been distracted by the flicker on surfaces, yellow-green, light-dusted, feathery as eyelashes. What do you see as you stop to take a breath, as you teeter, then center, weight full on the ledge? Indentations in the stucco: imperfect, unlevel — clumsy as a new lover’s caress, yet punctuated with ardor. I lie beneath the sill, hair in disarray, attempting repose. It is either the moment before or the moment after. When you find your bearings and flit away, your shadow mimics the pulse fluttering at my throat: momentary touch, what visited there last. http://luisaigloria.com/archives/1576
critique
“Flush” by Luisa Igloria (2014)Love is the opening of the heart, the welcoming of your beloved. Birdling, tiny thing that bumps head-on, unwittingly, into the glass — you are not yet the announcing angel. Like you I’ve been distracted by the flicker on surfaces, yellow-green, light-dusted, feathery as eyelashes. What do you see as you stop to take a breath, as you teeter, then center, weight full on the ledge? Indentations in the stucco: imperfect, unlevel — clumsy as a new lover’s caress, yet punctuated with ardor. I lie beneath the sill, hair in disarray, attempting repose. It is either the moment before or the moment after. When you find your bearings and flit away, your shadow mimics the pulse fluttering at my throat: momentary touch, what visited there last. http://luisaigloria.com/archives/1576
write
“Flush” by Luisa Igloria (2014)Love is the opening of the heart, the welcoming of your beloved. Birdling, tiny thing that bumps head-on, unwittingly, into the glass — you are not yet the announcing angel. Like you I’ve been distracted by the flicker on surfaces, yellow-green, light-dusted, feathery as eyelashes. What do you see as you stop to take a breath, as you teeter, then center, weight full on the ledge? Indentations in the stucco: imperfect, unlevel — clumsy as a new lover’s caress, yet punctuated with ardor. I lie beneath the sill, hair in disarray, attempting repose. It is either the moment before or the moment after. When you find your bearings and flit away, your shadow mimics the pulse fluttering at my throat: momentary touch, what visited there last. http://luisaigloria.com/archives/1576
13 books of poetry
9+ American prizes
Palanca Hall of Fame
Professor of
Creative Writing and
English
Old Dominion
University, Virginia,
USA
http://luisaigloria.com/bio https://www.facebook.com/ThePoetsLizard
DepEd Order No. 8,
s. 2015, Appendix A
Globe: 0917-904-0968
Smart: 0921-494-0472
Sun: 0933-489-4544
isaganicruz@
gmail.com
This presentation can be downloaded from:
http://kto12plusphilippines.com/
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