Sec+2+-+War+Poetry+(by+Mr+Peter+Gilbert)

=War Poetry - Study of Wilfred Owen's Poems= By Mr Peter Gilbert

//Wilfred Edward Salter Owen// //Born 18 March 1893, Shropshire, England.// //Died 4 November 1918, Sambre-Oise Canal, France.//

=Lesson 1=

Please read the following poem by Wilfred Owen and answer the questions that follow.

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 tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped 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.


 * Questions**
 * 1) Using textual evidence, what impression do you get of the physical condition of the men from the first two lines? they are tired.
 * 2) Despite the threat of an imminent attack, Owen describes the men as ‘asleep,’ ‘Drunk’ and ‘deaf.’ What is the intention of the poet here? they are be attack when they are not aware
 * 3) How would you describe the rhythm and pace of the first stanza, and what is the significance of this? it is like a war
 * 4) The rhythm and pace change dramatically at the start of stanza two. Why is this? they is a attack.
 * 5) How do the men respond to the attack? they attack back.
 * 6) The account of the soldier who fails to respond quickly enough is particularly graphic. Give textual evidence to support this and explain how Owen’s use of language is so appropriate. they are not beening aware
 * 7) Explain how in stanza three Owen conveys the idea that the soldier’s death is so undignified. they will die any moment
 * 8) What do you feel that Owen means by ‘His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; the man die like a devil
 * 9) Owen’s language in lines 5-7 is particularly brutal. What message do you feel he is trying to give here? war will kill \people
 * 10) Using your background knowledge of this famous poem, explain who the ‘friend’ is that Owen refers to, and why the word is so ironic.it is the soider

= = =Lesson 2=

Disabled
He sat in a wheeled 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 a hymn, Voices of play and pleasure after day, Till gathering sleep had mothered them from 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' waists 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 bloodsmear 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; and no fears Of Fear came yet. He thought of jewelled 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?


 * Task**

This is perhaps Wilfred Owen’s most complete poem. Essentially it tells the story of an underage conscript who goes off to war believing that it will be a short and exciting adventure. He returns home a lonely, broken and disabled young man with most of his life still in front of him. There were many such cases. Others were luckier. For example, click onto [|wwar1.blogspot.com] for the account of Harry Lamin’s experience of the great war.

 In stanza four, the protagonist mentions ‘his Meg,’ obviously his childhood sweetheart. Using your knowledge of the war, and especially textual evidence supplied by the poem, write a letter to Meg detailing what has happened to you since your last encounter, prior to your departure for war. Put yourself in the shoes of the character, give yourself a name and also an address.

= = =Lesson 3=

Exposure
Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knive us... Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent... Low, drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient... Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous, But nothing happens. Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire, Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles. Northward, incessantly, the flickering gunnery rumbles, Far off, like a dull rumour of some other war. What are we doing here? The poignant misery of dawn begins to grow... We only know war lasts, rain soaks, and clouds sag stormy. Dawn massing in the east her melancholy army Attacks once more in ranks on shivering ranks of gray, But nothing happens. Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence. Less deathly than the air that shudders black with snow, With sidelong flowing flakes that flock, pause, and renew; We watch them wandering up and down the wind's nonchalance, But nothing happens. Pale flakes with fingering stealth come feeling for our faces - We cringe in holes, back on forgotten dreams, and stare, snow-dazed, Deep into grassier ditches. So we drowse, sun-dozed, Littered with blossoms trickling where the blackbird fusses, - Is it that we are dying? Slowly our ghosts drag home: glimpsing th sunk fires, glozed With crusted dark-red jewels; crickets jingle there; For hours the innocent mice rejoice: the house is theirs; Shutters and doors, all closed: on us the doors are closed, - We turn back to our dying. Since we believe not otherwise can kind fires burn; Nor ever suns smile true on child, or field, or fruit. For God's invincible spring our love is made afraid; Therefore, not loath, we lie out here; therefore were born, For love of God seems dying. To-night, this frost will fasten on this mud and us, Shrivelling many hands, puckering foreheads crisp. The burying-party, picks and shovels in shaking grasp, Pause over half-known faces. All their eyes are ice, But nothing happens.


 * Task**

This poem is one of Wilfred Owen’s less famous ones. However, it is significant in the sense that it is a direct contrast to the idea that war is a dangerous, but also exciting affair. ‘Exposure’ reveals that war is a miserable time with one spending long periods of inactivity in atrocious conditions. Note the repetition of the final line in four stanzas. Use the three poems to devise a magazine article entitled, ‘The Great War. The Truth.’

You are a reporter who is reporting from the frontline. Your evidence will be from the three poems studied, and also the aforementioned blog. Possible areas to look at are

Underage soldiers. Shoddy equipment. Atrocious conditions. Poor leadership. The desperate mood of the soldiers. The carnage and aftermath of German attacks.

 Give yourself a pseudonym and include photographs where applicable. Make sure that your article has a date and is written in the style of a magazine article.