Review of "Disabled"

Review of "Disabled"

The poem “Disabled” by Wilfred Owen belongs to the Modern poetry of English Literature. The poem is about the various aspect of war. The central image of poem is, a disabled soldier in a wheel chair. By using this image Owen brings out realities related to war. “He” in the poem uses to symbolise all soldiers. Owen contrast the behaviour between a disabled soldier and other boys. Disabled soldier has an inactive behaviour while the other boys have active playful behaviour.

The disabled soldier suffers emotionally than physically. He is deprived in romance and his psychology scar is seemed to be sever than his physical disability. The poet increases the poignant quality.

The themes discussed through this poem are:

·         The plight of a physical handy crap soldier

·         Highlighted the bitter realities of war

§  War destroys human life

§  There’s no valid reason for war

§  War makes people dependent and helpless

§  War lacks glory

§  Irresponsibility of authorities elated to war

§  War is tragedy

·      Highlighting the idea that psychological scars are more painful than physical disability.

   

Disabled

Disabled

He sat in a wheel chair, waiting for dark,

And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,

Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park

Voices of boys rang saddening like hymn,

Voices of play and pleasure after day,

Till gathering sleep had mothered them for him.

About this time Town used to swing so gay

When glow-lamps budded in the light-blue trees

And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim,

In the old times, before he threw away his knees

Now he will never feel again how slim

Girls’ waist are, or how warm their subtle hands,

All of them touch him like some queer disease.

There was an artist silly for his face,

For it was younger than his youth last year

Now he is old; his back will never brace

He’s lost his colour very far from here,

Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,

And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race

And leap of purple spurted from his thigh,

One time he liked a blood smear down his leg

After the matches carried shoulder-high

It was after football, when he’d drunk a peg

He thought he’d better join. He wonders why….

Someone had said he’d look a god in kilts

That’s why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg,

Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts

He asked to join. He didn’t have to beg

Smiling they wrote his lie; aged nineteen years

Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt

And Austria’s did not move him

Of fear came yet.  He thought of jeweled hilts

For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes;

And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears

Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits

And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers

Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal

Only  a solemn man who brought him fruits

Thanked him; and then inquired about his soul

Now, he will spend a few sick years in Institutes

And do what things the rules consider wise

And take whatever pity they may dole

To-night he noticed how the women’s eyes

Passed from him to the strong men that were whole

How cold and late it is! Why don’t they come?

And put him into bed? Why don’t they come?

Wilfred Owen

Wilfred Owen

Wilfred Owen 

Wilfred Edward Salter Owen was born on 18 March 1893 in Shropshire. He was a poet and a soldier. Wilfred Owen was the eldest son of the Thomas and Harriet Owen. He was an Anglican. During his school days, he was clever in studies. Wilfred passed the matriculation of the University of London. As the first career in life Wilfred worked as a teacher. In 1915, he was commissioned in the Manchester Regiment and was sent to the Front France at the end of same year. After periods at home, he returned to the front and paradoxically, was awarded the Military Cross.

Wilfred Owen was one of the leading poet of First World War. He wrote about war when he even at the battle field. Some of best works of him are,

·         Dulce et Decorum est

·         Insensibility

·         Anthem for Doomed Youth

·         Futility

·         Spring offensive

·         Strange Meeting    etc.

   

Wilfred Owen was killed in action shortly before the Armistice in November 1918. It was quite pathetic that Owen bade goodbye to his life at a very young age and he was killed one week before the Armistice, the agreement for the ceasefire was signed. After composing the poem, “Anthem for doomed youth” Wilfred Owen wrote a preface for it. It reads as follows:

 “My subject is war and the pity of war; The poetry is in the pity”

This is pathetic as well as ironic because the cruel war cost his life too.

Anthem For Doomed Youth

Anthem For Doomed Youth

What passing bells for these who die as cattle?

Only the monstrous anger of the guns

Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle

Can patter out their hasty orisons

No mockeries now for them, no prayers nor bells

Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells

And bugles calling for them from sad shires

What candles may be held to speed them all?

Not in the hands but in their eyes

Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes

The pallor of girl’s brows shall be their pall

Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds

And each slow dusk a drawing- down of blinds

Wilfred Owen

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth

 William Wordsworth can be introduced as one of the most accomplished and influential of romantic poets. His theories and style are created a new tradition in poetry.

He was born in 1770 and educated at St, John’s College and later in the university of Cambridge. In his young age, he developed a keen love towards nature and during school vacation, he visited places noted for their scenic beauty.

Wordsworth began his career of poetry while a school boy. But his early poetry received little notice. When Wordsworth in Germany he wrote his finest lyric verses the “Lucy” poems.

Returning to England, he married Mary Hutchinson who was his childhood friend, in 1802. Wordsworth wrote most of his finest romantic poetry while he stayed in Dove. He loved solitude and never felt lonely in the presence of nature. He loved hills, valleys and lakes.

 As he advanced in age, his poetic vision and inspiration was dulled. 

William Wordsworth was died in 1850.

She Dwelt among the Untrodden ways

She Dwelt among the Untrodden ways

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove

A maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love

A violet by a most tone

Half hidden from the eye!

Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!

William Wordsworth

Hilaire Belloc

Hilaire Belloc

Hilaire Belloc followed a different style of poetry which brought enormous humour and enjoyment. He was a social critic in his poetry. He has made an effort to pick out the loopholes and weaknesses in the practical society.

Belloc was born in France. He was educated at the university of Oxford. He even was elected a member of the British Parliament in 1906.

Belloc was a devoted Christian. It appears that he showed a different eye at the revolutionary scientific development in the world and he was quite pessimistic about them.

In his poem ‘The microbe’, he emphasises that he does not believe in the concept of micro- organism although scientist proved it.

Actually most of his poems are considered as satires. He tried to offer an alternative to Socialism and Communism.

Matilda

Matilda

Matilda told such dreadful lies

It made one gasp and stretches one’s eyes

Her aunt, who, from her earliest youth

Had kept strict regard for truth

Attempted to believe Matilda

The effort very nearly killed her

And would have done so, had not she

Discovered this infirmity.

For once towards the close of the day

Matilda growing tired of play

And finding she was left alone

Went tiptoe to the telephone

And summoned the immediate aid

Of London’s Nobel fire Brigade

Within an hour the gallant band

Were pouring in on every hand

From Putney, Hackney Downs and Bow

With courage high and hearts a glow

They galloped, roaring through the town

“Matilda’s house is burning down”

Inspired by British cheers and loud

Proceeding from the frencied crowd

They ran their ladders through a score

Of Windows on the ball-room floor

And took peculiar pains to souse

The pictures up and down the house

Until Matilda’s aunt succeeded

In showing them they were not needed

An even then she had to pay

To get the men to go away!

It happened that a few weeks later

Her aunt was off to the theatre

To see that interesting play

The second Mrs. Tanqueray

She had refused to take her niece

To hear this entertaining piece

A deprivation just and wise

To punish her for telling lies

That night a fire did break out

You should have heard Matilda shout!

You should have seen her scream and bawl

And throw the window up and call

To people passing in the street

(The rapidly increasing heat

Encouraging her to obtain

Their confidence)- but it was all in vain!

For every time she shouted “fire”!

They only answered “Little liar”!

And therefore when her aunt returned

Matilda and the house were burned.

Hilaire Belloc

Parrot

Parrot

Sometimes I sit with the both eyes closed,

But all the same, I’ve heard

They’re saying “He won’t talk because

He is a thinking bird”

I’m olive green and sulky, and

The family say, “oh yes,

He’s silent but he is listening

He thinks more than he says”

“He ponders on the things he hears,

Preferring not to chatter!”

And this is true, but why it’s true

Is quiet another matter

I’m working o some shocking things

In order to surprise them,

And when my thoughts are ready I’ll

Certainly not disguise them!

I’ll wait and see and choose a time

When everyone is present

And clear my throat and raise my beak

And give a squawk and start to speak

And go on for about a week

And it will not be pleasant

Alan Brown John

Alan Brown John

Alan Brown John

Alan Brown John was an English poet and novelist. He was born in London in 1931. He was educated at Merton college Oxford.

He worked as a teacher until he retired in 1979. After retiring he became a full time writer. John participated in Philip Hobs Baum’s weekly poetry discussion meeting known as ‘The group’.

He worked as a distinguished supporter of the British Humanist Association. Some of his poetic creations are “Traveler’s Alone” in 1954, “The railing “  in 1961, “A song of good life” in 1975, and “Nineteen poems”.  He also wrote a number of novels such as “To clear the river”, “The way you tell them”, “The long shadows” and “A funny old year”.

Review Of "The Tyger"

Review Of "The Tyger"

The poem “The Tyger” written by William Blake begins with an address to the Tiger. Blake was amazed at the ferocity of the tiger. He even more puzzled as to how both the lamb and the tiger had been created by the same creator. The lamb for Blake was a symbol of innocence and the tiger , a symbol of ferocity. They are mutually exclusive qualities. How they both could come from the same source – from the same creator was Blake’s enigma.

The themes discussed through the poem are,

·         Dualistic nature of God

·         Universal conflict between good and evil

The techniques used in the poem are,

·         Rhetorical questions

·         Refered to the mythology of greek

·         Lyrical form

·         Regular rhyming scheme

·         Language is simple

·         Symbolism

The Tyger

The Tyger

Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright

In the forest of the night

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? And what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What anvil? What dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And water’d heaven with their tears

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make Thee?

Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame they fearful symmetry?

William Blake (1757-1827)

William Blake

William Blake

William Blake was born on November 28, 1757.  He was an English poet, Painter and engraver. Blake’s father was a hosier and they lived in London.

Blake started poetry in the initial stage of his life. His most popular poems were “Songs of Innocence” and “songs of Experience”. These two titles are really contrasting. “The Lamb” and “The Tiger” are best examples for them.

In his life time Blake was not recognised as a serious poet. He questioned the conventional ideas. For example, people at that time think big cities like London were paradise, Blake showed how London was a prison in his poem “London”. He criticises industrialization how the workforce was degraded. In the poem “Garden of Love” criticised the church for binding people with its negative moral precepts. Another aspect of his poetry is the deep psychological insight. In “Poison Tree”, Blake showed how harmful and even dangerous suppression is.

William Blake was died on November 12, 1827 at the age of 69.

The Garden Of Love

The Garden Of Love

I went to the Garden Of Love

And saw what I never had seen

A chapel was built in the midst

Where I used to play on the garden

And the gates of the chapel were shut

And “Thou shalt not” write over the door

So I turned to the Garden Of Love

That so many sweet flowers bore

And I saw it was filled with graves

And tomb stones where flowers should be

And the priest in black gowns were walking their rounds

And binding with briars my joys and desires

William Blake

The Sea

The Sea

 The sea is a hungry dog

Giant and grey

He rolls on the beach all day

With clashing teeth and shaggy jaws

Hour open hour he gnaws

The rumbling, tumbling stones,

And bones, bones, bones, bones!

The giant sea dog moans

Licking his greasy paws

And when the night wind roars

And the moon rocks in the stormy cloud

He bound to his feet and snuffs and sniffs

Shaking his wet side over the cliffs

And howls and hollos long and loud

But one quiet day in May or June

When even the grass on the dune

Play no more their reedy tune

With his head between his paws

He lies on the sandy shores

So quiet, so quiet, he scarcely snores.

James Reeves

James Reeves

James Reeves

James Reeves was born in 1909 in Middlesex and educated at Stowe and Jesus College, Cambridge. He started his career as a teacher. He retired from his career in 1952 and became a full time writer.

The real name of James Reeves was John Morris. He was a British writer well-known for his poetry and contribution to children’s literature and the literature of collected traditional songs.

As a poet he , contributed a lot to Modern English Literature. Some examples of his works are, ‘Songs for six Pence”, “The imprisoned Sea”, “The wondering Moon”, “The talking Skull” and “The Sea”.

He was died in 1978.

Review of Mending Wall (Part )

Review Of Mending Wall

The poem “Mending wall” written by Robert Frost belongs to the Modern Poetry of English Literature.Robert Frost was one of the best loved American poet of the last century. Being a pioneer poet of America, he considered 2 basic themes in his poems. They are Nature and Relationship. Both these aspects were endangered in the contemporary American society. 

The poem focuses on the annual repairing of the wall which stands in between the estate of the poet and his neighbour. The poet finds this practice meaningless because neither the trees in his garden nor those in his neighbour's garden could uproot themselves and jump into the other.  

The themes discussed through the poem are,

·         Divisions, both natural and man made

·         Unity through separation

·         The difficulty of establishing and maintaining human relationships among diversified individuals in the society.

·         The need of respecting each other’s individuality in order to maintain long lasting relationship.

The techniques used in the poem are,

·         Form of a free verse

·         First person point of view

·         Use of powerful imagery

ü  Wall – Society, divisions, unity (multiple symbolic representation)

ü  Apple and pine orchard- story telling method

·         Use of paradoxical statements

ü  Good fences make good neighbours

·         Use of contrast

ü  Attitude towards the wall are contrasting

·         Conversational language

·         Use of direct speech to increase its effect

             

Mending Wall (Part 1)

Mending wall

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast

The work of hunters is another thing:

I have come after them and made repair

Where they have left not one stone on a stone,

But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,

To pleasure the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,

No one has seen them made or heard them made,

But at spring mending-time we find them thee

I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us as we go

To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

We have to use a spell to make them balance;

Stay where you are until our backs are turned!

We wear our fingers rough with handling them

Oh, Just another kind of outdoor game,

One on a side it comes to little more:

There where it is we do not need the wall

He is all fine and I am apple orchard

My apple trees will never get across

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him

He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours”

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head

Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows

Before I built a wall I’d ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offence

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall

That wants it down I could say Elves to him

But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather

He said it for himself.  I see him there

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed

He moves in darkness as it seems to me

Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

Robert Frost(1874 - 1963)