a green tidal wave rippling towards me.
Monday, 23 March 2015
Thursday, 19 March 2015
My own poem-Goodbye
Goodbye
Your life is over, your time has come,
And now we must say goodbye.
It is the way of the world,
This is how it should be.
The end is near for all of us,
The insignificance of life
Is devastatingly disheartening
yet strangely beautiful
The end is near for all of us,
The insignificance of life
Is devastatingly disheartening
yet strangely beautiful
Now we must wait for our time
And move on.
We must not grieve
And we must...
Goodbye.
Death be not proud
Death be not proud
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
Dulce et decorum est
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Remember
Poems by Christina Georgina Rossetti : 211 / 313
Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
Remember
Gone far away into the silent land;
Remember
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Invictus
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
If you forget me
If you forget me
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
Monday, 16 March 2015
The explosion
On the day of the explosion
Shadows pointed towards the pithead:
In the sun the slagheap slept.
Shadows pointed towards the pithead:
In the sun the slagheap slept.
Down the lane came men in pitboots
Coughing oath-edged talk and pipe-smoke,
Shouldering off the freshened silence.
Coughing oath-edged talk and pipe-smoke,
Shouldering off the freshened silence.
One chased after rabbits; lost them;
Came back with a nest of lark’s eggs;
Showed them; lodged them in the grasses.
Came back with a nest of lark’s eggs;
Showed them; lodged them in the grasses.
So they passed in beards and moleskins,
Fathers, brothers, nicknames, laughter,
Through the tall gates standing open.
Fathers, brothers, nicknames, laughter,
Through the tall gates standing open.
At noon, there came a tremor; cows
Stopped chewing for a second; sun,
Scarfed as in a heat-haze, dimmed.
Stopped chewing for a second; sun,
Scarfed as in a heat-haze, dimmed.
The dead go on before us, they
Are sitting in God’s house in comfort,
We shall see them face to face –
Are sitting in God’s house in comfort,
We shall see them face to face –
Plain as lettering in the chapels
It was said, and for a second
Wives saw men of the explosion
It was said, and for a second
Wives saw men of the explosion
Larger than in life they managed –
Gold as on a coin, or walking
Somehow from the sun towards them,
Gold as on a coin, or walking
Somehow from the sun towards them,
One showing the eggs unbroken.
The explosion analysis
In this tragic poem, the writer captures the idea that although the loss is great it is always important to realise that there is nothing that you can do therefore it is right for you to not grieve but to move on. At first glance it seems that the main idea of the poem is the loss of life however of central importance is the feeling of loss that the wives are feeling. Throughout the analysis it is important to consider that the meaning, although not clearly stated, is the fact that something bad has happened and everything is effected, directly or indirectly
Thursday, 12 March 2015
My own poem- Moving on
Moving on
She has gone to a better
place,
The pain is unbearable
Now it is time to move on,
Monday, 9 March 2015
Who would you be today?
Who would you be today?
This poem is about someone who has lost another person and is grieving over their loss. He is saying that it is impossible to describe how he is feeling.
Could you imagine a pain so deep down inside
That it can not be summarised in words you simply can write
A pain that touches your toes and up to the top of the ceiling
You can't eat, you can't sleep, that is the pain that I am feeling
But my father raised a boy that can stand on his own
But these different circumstances has got me feeling alone
All the doctors and the nurses say you're dead and you're gone
But it still feels like I could talk to you if I picked up the phone
You can't fix a broken window you just replace the pane.
But there is no pain great enough to replace your face
With my eyes matted shut from the tears that I slept on
I thank God for the pictures and your voice on my cell phone.
But please, while you are awed in the mist of the Lord
Don't forget all your friends and time spent on this world.
I will never have a friend like you ever again.
My heart is a vault now, I'm scared to let people in.
No matter how many oceans or rivers I cry
My heart will never let you go, I'll never say good bye.
A lot of my hours are now spent in the place where you lay
As I sit crying, wondering, who would you be today.
This poem is about someone who has lost another person and is grieving over their loss. He is saying that it is impossible to describe how he is feeling.
Could you imagine a pain so deep down inside
That it can not be summarised in words you simply can write
A pain that touches your toes and up to the top of the ceiling
You can't eat, you can't sleep, that is the pain that I am feeling
But my father raised a boy that can stand on his own
But these different circumstances has got me feeling alone
All the doctors and the nurses say you're dead and you're gone
But it still feels like I could talk to you if I picked up the phone
You can't fix a broken window you just replace the pane.
But there is no pain great enough to replace your face
With my eyes matted shut from the tears that I slept on
I thank God for the pictures and your voice on my cell phone.
But please, while you are awed in the mist of the Lord
Don't forget all your friends and time spent on this world.
I will never have a friend like you ever again.
My heart is a vault now, I'm scared to let people in.
No matter how many oceans or rivers I cry
My heart will never let you go, I'll never say good bye.
A lot of my hours are now spent in the place where you lay
As I sit crying, wondering, who would you be today.
Saturday, 7 March 2015
Link between theme and layout in The charge of the light brigade
Link between theme and
layout
The charge of the light brigade is a poem with the theme of
war and how as they charge further more of them are getting killed, until they
retreat with few numbers. The poem is set out in a very defined manner due to
the fact that each paragraph is the same length. However the last stanza is
shorter. This symbolises the fact that the amount of people coming back is
smaller. Also the enjambment of the poem
stops on the last stanza to slow the rhythm of the poem this shows that the
battle has stopped and everything calms down.
Where is there enjambment and caesura in the charge of the light brigade
The poet incorporates the idea of war in this poem. The poet signifies the idea of pace in the battle by writing with little caesura. In stanza 4 he does use caesura to emphasise the suspense of the battle, this gives the reader a sense of wonder. However he does incorporate enjambment a lot to signify the stop-start manner of the battle. It could be suggested that every time the poem stops someone dies. This gives a very powerful effect as it lets each line sink in to the readers mind.
Poetry meanings
Caesura:
A break or a pause in the middle of a line of poetry, dictated by the natural rhythm of the language and/or enforced by punctuation.
Enjambment:
The practice of running lines in poetry from one to the next without using any kind of punctuation to indicate a stop.
Assonance:
When two words in a line have the same sound.
A break or a pause in the middle of a line of poetry, dictated by the natural rhythm of the language and/or enforced by punctuation.
Enjambment:
The practice of running lines in poetry from one to the next without using any kind of punctuation to indicate a stop.
Assonance:
When two words in a line have the same sound.
charge of the light brigade
This poem incorporates the idea of loss as it was a tragic event in which many people died for no reason whatsoever.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred."Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
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