Poem Classification (NLP)
Poem Phrases taken from Poem.org to do Classification on Poem's Genre
@kaggle.ramjasmaurya_poem_classification_nlp
Poem Classification Test Data
@kaggle.ramjasmaurya_poem_classification_nlp.poem_classification_test_data
- 32.36 KB
- 150 rows
- 2 columns
genreGenre | poemPoem |
|---|---|
| Music | A woman walks by the bench I’m sitting onwith her dog that looks part Lab, part Buick,stops and asks if I would like to dance.I smile, tell her of course I do. We decideon a waltz that she begins to hum. |
| Music | Because I am a boy, the untouchability of beautyis my subject already, the book of statuesopen in my lap, the middle of October, leavesfoiling the wet groundin soft copper. “A statuemust be beautifulfrom all sides,” Cellini wrote in 1558.When I close the book,the bodies touch. In the west,they are t… |
| Music | Because today we did not leave this world,We now embody a prominence within it,Even amidst its indifference to our actions,Whether they be noiseless or not.After all, nonsense is its own type of silence,Lasting as long as the snow on yourTongue. You wonder why each eveningMust be filled with a turni… |
| Music | Big Bend has been here, been here. Shouldn’t it have a say?Call the mountains a wall if you must, (the river has never been a wall),leavened air soaking equally into all, could this be the homewe ache for? Silent light bathing cliff faces, dunes alteringin darkness, stones speaking low to |
| Music | I put shells there, along the lip of the road.Bivalves from last summer’s dinners. dog eatsa charred rock. I have begun practicing to eat |
| Music | I thought I would write a novelabout the window with its shadowset in the two-story house.Cézanne stands at the sunchoke hedge,alone and licking a brushamong the tree’s traces of changing shade.The woman—I named herand almost saw her—could beflapping a pillowcase at the shutteras though fanning a fi… |
| Music | I was afraid the past would catch up with me,would find this new house too like the scarredold childhood home. But it hasn’t yet. A treecasts soft and gentle shade over our green yard.I feel forgiven all the sins I didn’t commitfor long minutes at a time. What were they?I |
| Music | Let us enter this again. In the context of this paragraph,we are hurtling backward through space, toward a smallopening: I press my hand to your lip and you bite. You bitemy spine. Ben his jawline was stellar. Ben his curlicue.His cellphone iPhone. His and everyone’s iPhone, in my hand,on my |
| Music | More than the fuchsia funnels breaking outof the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’salmost obscene display of cherry limbs shovingtheir cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slatesky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the treesthat really gets to me. When all the shock of whiteand taffy, the … |
| Music | No strawberry moon for me, tonight. No strawberry moon. This small house creaks when I walk and open it. I have to weigh it, to goddess or not tonight. Goddess or godless. God is in my sleeping children’s presence tonight. I use words like god when I haven’t seen the |
CREATE TABLE poem_classification_test_data (
"genre" VARCHAR,
"poem" VARCHAR
);