Family Meal Gone Wrong
Eunice Yin
Year 11 English
Write about the family meal that went wrong. You may write it humorously if you wish.
It was that time of the year again. The time where all the Chinese rejoice, a festive season you may say. While some claim this is the time where families reunite for a new year’s eve dinner and celebrate the good tidings and tradition they have sustained, it is however, simply a two week break for middle class workers. People were pilling into the streets, selling items such as: Chinese sausages, roasted pork, fruits, lanterns and the like. Anything that is colourful is considered a good omen during this season, in fact red is the regular favourite.
I dreaded going home every year because I knew mother was going to start her matchmaking session. She thinks that women over twenty five were categorised as “married” and I’m thirty. According to the Confucious’ teachings, women were suppose to stay at home and be the submissive wife, listening to their husband’s orders and behaving as gentile as possible. For me, this is absurd. How on earth in the twenty first century, would a woman like me be able to tolerate this kind of lifestyle? The thing is, mother was born in a well-to-do and conservative family. Rules were the rules and anyone who broke them were considered outcasts. So right after I finished high school, I left for America. It simply made no sense for me to stay any longer. Still, how could I oppose her thoughts? All the family could do was watch me being tortured by blind dates, organized by mother, with love, of course! She is turning sixty five this year and it would be a lose-win situation to argue about such petty things with her, as she’s known amongst the family as the “Woman Hitman”.
Chinese people loved “li xi”, also known as red packets. It symbolizes good fortune, wealth, health, prosperity and other good omens. I hated it when mother gave me double packets, I wished I never knew what it meant. This year, it wasn’t any different. Mother handed me the usual double packet and everyone stared at me with disappointment, followed by a pat on the back. I sighed heavily but mother beamed delightfully. I wished this didn’t happen, but sadly, it did.
“Oh great, mother. Who is this?” I asked. “Mei Ling, meet Ying Xiong. Remember Uncle Tan? Your father’s partner in his rice business? This is his son,” mother replied gleefully. Oh you’ve GOT to be kidding me. Ying Xiong? I mean, come on! His mother must be watching Chinese soap operas for a living and proudly named him ‘hero’. Really, who on earth would have that as a name? Seeing mother getting excited over this makes me nauseous.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mei Ling. I remembered watching you running around barefoot while I was studying in middle school. You used to live near my school, remember? Oh, you were so cute,
I couldn’t……” I didn’t even let him finish the sentence and butted in, “Wait, WHAT? You WATCHED me running around? What are you, a stalker?” I was hissing so loudly, my brother had to pinch my arm so I would shut up. Mother looked at me sternly, as if she was saying ‘Mei Ling, you had better behave yourself or you’re toast!’ so what was I suppose to do? I sat down, smiled politely at Ying Xiong and greeted him. I shot mother the ‘Are you happy now?’ look and she smirked. Oh, I was SO mad. I told myself that I should probably disappear and never come back to Malaysia for another reunion. So far, Chinese New Year has never been my favourite festive season.
The meal started with mother’s never-ending speech. She thinks it’s essential to do so since she’s the head of the house. Father had died of cancer a few years ago because he smoked way too much. No one in the family could stop him, not even mother. He was a stubborn man and probably even refuses to listen to Buddha’s preaching in heaven! That poor guy, when is he going to learn?
“Unity is a very important lesson we have to learn and cherish in life, it is ESSENTIAL to have respect, love, and patience in life…” Everybody was staring blankly behind mother, bored except for Heroboy who actually listened eagerly and nodded to everything she said. That really grossed me out and I could have just died of embarrassment right there and rotted with my remains constantly wailing ‘I’m so bored, help me, save me from this pit of doom…’
“Family is whom you can trust and love and expect that in return….” “…and sons and daughters, let’s come together and celebrate this glorious event….” This is where our routine starts. Every year, at this point of the speech, all of us would stand up and toast, wishing each other good health, longevity, and wealth. But really, deep down inside we were throwing each other insults.
“GAN BEI!”, everyone shouted as we toasted our glasses. Tea and beer flew through the air like synchronised water in a fountain. Right after the toast, we couldn’t wait to get our hands on all the delicious food placed on the table. Mother started by distributing the roasted pork on everyone’s plate. When she reached mine, she paused and said, “So how do you find Ying Xiong? He’s a VERY presentable man.” All I could do was flash her a weak smile and rolled my eyes. I could vomit just by looking at his hideous outfit, made up of a red shirt, a pair of white pants and a cream coloured bow tie. Working in the fashion industry for years has taught me how to be picky towards colour combinations and cuts. Mother looked satisfied and walked away happily, back to her seat. Ying Xiong turned towards me and started a conversation. It was all boring questions and the norm and I kept answering reluctantly, trying only to please my mother and get out of there.
“So Mei Ling, your mother told me that you’re very good at cooking, I would like to try it……” Mother butted in by adding more lies, “Ah yes… Mei Ling is good at cooking CHINESE dishes.” If instant noodles were considered cooking, then yes I do, but mother is getting WAY over the top. I don’t even appreciate Chinese cooking much. I replied by laughing sheepishly, “Oh mother, you over estimated me! I’m not THAT good!” Ying Xiong laughed along and nodded in acknowledgement, but as to what sort of acknowledgement, I’ll rather not know.
After that awkward conversation, Ying Xiong started gobbling the food down his throat. He seemed like he haven’t eaten in years… or maybe he just had no table manners. Yet, mother loved his behavior, it’s VERY Chinese, but I squirmed in disgust. No one really ate like this in America. Heroboy is just…… not me. I can’t DATE a man LIKE THIS. I knew I had to get out of there as soon as possible or mother would stuff more bullocks down my throat. I signaled mother to leave the table and go to the washroom with me. She got it, alright. She stood up politely and excused herself.
Once we got in the washroom, I asked straightaway, “Are you trying to make me MARRY him?” Mother shook her head and sighed and that meant disappointment. Seeing her act that way made my heart ache. I didn’t know if she was trying to help or acted out of her selfishness. The thing is, I never got anything out of her matchmaking process and I think it would never work unless I found someone myself. “Mother… I’m sorry, I don’t like Heroboy,” I muttered. “You never liked anyone I introduced to you… Mei Ling, can’t you just get married and settle down?” She frowned and I hated seeing her getting fustrated over something she would never understand. “No mother, I’m sorry. I… I’m leaving now.” I turned towards the door and walked out.
“Wait! Where are you going? Mei Ling! WAIT!” Mother’s voice trailed behind me as I quickly made my way out of the restaurant. Heroboy shot up and called for me, but I told myself, this is it. I can’t just fall in love and let my life slip away right infront of me. I’m going back to America. Eventually, I felt bad for leaving the dinner table as it is one of the most important meals during Chinese New Year ,but I didn’t know what else to do. The air outside was humid, with the occasional warm breeze rushing through my hair. I walked back to my hotel, wishing mother had never did this. However, I knew life wasn’t only about finding the right one and my mind was screaming – Freedom.
The Invasion
Write the opening chapter of a novel entitled The Invasion. In your writing, you should create a mood of fear and suspense.
Nothing can harm you, Grace. Absolutely nothing.
There are some things you cannot run from, one of them is fear. It watches you, waits for the right moment and attacks you. Just like the eagles that soar in the sky, hunting for its prey. You can be careful, sneaky and quiet, but in the end, you will always be the victim.
The once busy town has remained still for weeks. Carelessly, it was held hostage by the devil and no one survived. Not for civilians, but Operation Six survived and I was one of them.
My life as an android separates me from the real living. I am not the only android in our group but I am the only emotionless person. The only thing that keeps me alive are my memories. My memories before I became a “half human”.
“This is Log Twenty-Nine and my last. From now on, I am assigned to fight the devil and report to the Chief. If I should fail, there would be no traces of my existence and my data would be erased. Nothing could ever harm me, again.”
Airship pirates were everywhere in the sky. They used to be on our “Most Wanted” list but things have changed, they have become the air fighters of the city. They were poor and owned nothing but their ship and their foolish bravery. Their jobs were to steal, rob, and attack the land people. Everyone feared them because they have eyes everywhere and one could easily die in their sleep under attack. They were barbarians, but now, they are our ally, powerful, and heroes.
I walked out of the Operation Six building and hopped on my steambike – off to another land patrol. Now, there was no one to complain about crime, no one to murder or steal from anymore. As I rode through every street, empty houses and shops were left standing silent and still, as obedient as a dog waiting for its master to return. They no longer had masters anymore, all of them are gone, forever.
Wind blew through my hair and my eyes readjusted itself due to the dusty surroundings. A normal human being would most probably wail in agony but my left eye was reconstructed into a bionic eye. Made up of metal bits, glass lens, laser and no place for tears as normal humans do. My other eye was damaged and never repaired…… because my father is dead.
It Must Be Years Since I Saw You!
Eunice Yin
Year 11 English
Write a short story beginning ‘It must be years since I saw you!’
It must be years since I saw you! Not since the day he told me to come home. Father said you would come, so I waited, but you never did. There is no need to question yourself, I’m sure he had meant to lie anyway, but how could a child resist such temptations to regain a family she never had?
Mother, it’s been years since I saw you. I never expected to see you in such a state. Poor thing, but what can I offer you, mother? Perhaps a glass of wine? It would’ve effortlessly eased your pain if you were here with us. Father owned countless bottles of wine, he could have easily spared you a dozen of them. Mother, you should’ve been here with me, I would have something to hold on instead of a shattered porcelain doll. I wouldn’t have blamed you, mother, if father told me you would never come. It’s all swell now, since you wouldn’t even make a sound.
I never understood why father had to lie. I’ve watched countless women walking in and out of his bedroom, yet, he told me that you would come. I was nine then, still willing to believe this façade, knowing that father was cheating on you, mother. Why hadn’t you stood up for your rights as his wife, my biological mother? If you came earlier, that witch wouldn’t stand a chance against you, keeping me only as a puppet. Mother, I apologize. I ate well, slept well, lived glamorously, and had countless servants under my command, but why am I suffering still?
Stepmother never made me do chores. She gave me every materialistic item I have dreamed of. A breath-taking room, beautiful gowns and necklaces, dolls, even an education! Mother, what more can I ask for? I was foolish, mother, I apologize, I gave in to her. I had let that woman seize control of my life, my every step, my every move. One day, stepmother handed me a pint of liquid and ordered me to pour a teaspoon into father’s glass of water, said it was a prescribed medication by the family doctor for him. Father was very ill and I did as I was told. Everyday, I would pour teaspoon by teaspoon, praying that it would ease father’s pain.
Day by day, I watched father cough his heart out, not to mention, blood was always visible soon after the medication. Still I prayed for father to feel better, to get up and be his usual self. Father never made it, he died several months later. As I was still young, stepmother had inherited and managed his property and wealth, leaving me nothing. Not even a penny. Then I had realized, I was nothing but merely a tool for her final goal, her desire. She left soon after she had taken everything, leaving me only an empty house, no one but myself. Mother, I apologize for being such a fool and coward. Now, she has ripped away my dignity, I’m left with nothing in this life. Tell me, what can I do to undo what I have done?
They say that death is only another procedure to happiness, and the reaper another name for the angel of death. Enlighten me, mother, is that so? Does death do no harm to one’s soul? If so, take me to where you are and I’m ready to be near you, this world leaves nothing for me. Mother, what does it feel like to lay in your coffin, covered by the damp earth and still surroundings? Does it hurt to watch your body rot away naturally? For twenty five years, no one brought you flowers, no one sang you a birthday song, but you never seemed to fret about the loneliness. Up until this day, I still fear you. How can such a pure woman like you, bear a murderer? Mother! Wash away my sins! For day and night, I pray to God for forgiveness, but why is that I still feel so unclean and insecure? The stench of father’s blood still lingers in my memory, haunting me.
I truly am happy for you, mother. You left at such an early stage, God must have loved you dearly, not allowing you to go through this unbearable suffering. Mother, you are a lucky woman. I wished I was as simple minded as you were, that way, we could have left together. That way, I would be laying right next to you in your casket, rotting away happily. I know someday I would understand why death is such a relief, I could sense it coming. Mother, my heart beats frantically during the night. I often pray that a creature would come and take me away from this nightmare, only to wake and find myself living in it. Perhaps one day, the casket would be the bed I lie on when peace comes for me. Until then, I would have to endure this painful scar and visit you every so often. Every gush of wind that brushes against me is a reminder of you and comfort for my suffering. Thank you mother. Before I leave, would you prefer lilacs or white roses the next time I visit you, mother?
A Poison Tree by William Blake – Part 1 English Assignment Preparation (Poem 2) :D
A Poison Tree
by William Blake
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
Analysis
A Poison Tree by William Blake depicts a process of how someone takes revenge on their foes. The author is angry at an enemy and he describes what he has done to lure his enemy into his grave. Blake’s poem uses many metaphorical phrases to test the reader’s perception of the actual meaning. This analysis discusses the theme, literary devices and context of this piece.
The subject matter of the piece is death. Blake highlights the process of planning his enemy’s death. The “poison tree” represents the evil seed that the author has planted, in order to seek revenge against his enemy. In the first verse, Blake has written: “I was angry with my friend; I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.” This is used to refer to people classifying other people as two different classes and in this case, friend and foe.
The theme of the poem is not anger itself but the suppression of anger. Blake describe how bottling up anger can lead to extreme consequences. According to the poem, the seed of anger is fertilized by the energy of the anger, resulting into a destructive force. Blake uses two or more rhyming couplets in the poem, to give off a hint of childishness. The author wrote “A Poison Tree” in ways that make it sound like a simple poem, however, this is a poem of vengeance and death.
Blake uses metaphor for the whole poem as every line could have another meaning, or a direct meaning itself. “And I watered it in fears, Night and morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles.” Blake represented anger with a plant and also compared his anger to the gardener’s anger towards the seed. The Poison Tree could also represent the Tree of Knowledge in the Holy Bible’s Old Testament, under Genesis. Blake has also used allusion to describe the fruit of the anger’s tree to the Tree of Knowledge.
A Poison Tree was written in the eighteenth century, depicted from words such as “soft deceitful wiles”. Blake’s ideology of the poem could be seen that he was influenced a lot on Swedenborgianism, which means that the spiritual world has a connection with the natural world. It was taught that God was a god of wrath and judgement and was focused more on sin. Blake has rejected that ideology partially but not entirely.
“The Highwayman” by Alfred Noyes – Part 1 English Assignment Preparation (Poem 1) :D
The Highwayman
Alfred Noyes
The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding–
Riding–riding–
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.
He’d a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He’d a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle–
His rapier hilt a-twinkle–
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter–
Bess, the landlord’s daughter–
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened–his face was white and peaked–
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter–
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:
“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I’m after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”
He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o’er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching–
Marching–marching–
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
“Now keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
“Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way.”
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love’s refrain.
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding–
Riding–riding–
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.
Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight–
Her musket shattered the moonlight–
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him–with her death.
He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
And still on a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy’s ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding–
Riding–riding–
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter–
Bess, the landlord’s daughter–
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Analysis
“The Highwayman” by Alfred Noyes is a love story written in a poetic form. This poem tells us about a love story of a triangle love. A landlord’s daughter is torn between an obligation and true love. This essay analyses the literary device, theme and context of the poem.
Noyes has highlighted that Bess, the landlord’s daughter loves the Highwayman but is engaged to Tim. Her fiancee is jealous and threatens to kill her if “the Highwayman” doesn’t return by dawn. The author’s main idea for this poem is love and sacrifice. There are also others, such as trust. Noyes has written in the poem, Bess puts her trust in the Highwayman. She trusted that he would return by dawn but when the gunshot took place, he fled, not knowing that Bess was shot. It’s only human to run from fear. “He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood; Bowed, with her head o’er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!” After he found out that she’s dead, he sought vengeance, knowing that he would get shot in the end but he sacrificed him life for Bess.
Noyes has written “The Highwayman” in a very lyrical. The rhyme scheme for the poem is AABCCB. The author used characterisation in the poem. “But the landlord’s black-eyeddaughter–Bess, the landlord’s daughter–Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.” Noyes also used a lot of imagery, such as “Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat.”
The Highwayman was published in the early 20th Century. After Alfred Lord Tennyson and Robert Browning, their prime time was over. Then, in 1902 – 1905, Alfred Noyes stepped up and took the spotlight. He was then known as one of the most famous English poets ever.
Exam Prep: Question 3 :D
Question 3
The extract below is taken from a short story set in Canada.
a) Comment on the style and language of the passage.
This passage describes a woman’s life on the farm alongside her two children. This piece was set in Canada and the writer has written this in a third person’s perspective. The writer has used a lot of flashbacks in the story and it also gives us a very bittersweet feeling on the piece. This commentary explores the literary devices, theme and style of this piece.
The theme of this piece is love and determination. The writer has written that the main character is raising her two children without her late husband’s help. “Her thoughts were on their old, trudging way, the way they always went; but then she halted suddenly, and with her eyes across the wheat again found refreshing promise in its quiet expanse.” This shows that the main character has let go of her late husband’s death and had foreseen a better future.
The writer has used flashbacks to provide readers a glimpse into the main character’s life. It was happier before, where the main character had support from her late husband. “Three hundred acres ready to give perhaps a little of what it had taken from her – John, his love, his lips unclenched.” This reflects the painful loss of a loved one of the main character’s life because the writer has described it as something that cannot be replaced easily.
The writer uses simile to provide a deeper understanding of the story line. “They had never wrung as the wheat wrung.” The author describes the life of the main character, Martha, as she had never given up on life no matter how rough the journey was. “She walked down the road towards the house, her steps quickening to the pace of her thoughts until the sweat clung to her face like little beads of oil.” The writer uses personification to give objects a human trait. “For the wheat allowed no respite. Wasting and unending it struggle, struggle against the wind and insects, drought and weeds.” Again, the writer has stated that the main character has never given up on life even in her darkest hours.
The author’s style of writing depicts that the story was written in the late 19th century. The writer also used slang in the story, “That was why he breasted the sun and dust a frantic, dogged fool, to spare them to a life that offered more than sweat and debts.” Slangs such as “dogged fool” and “lanky” are from the 19th century.
Exam Preparation : Question 1 :)
Exam Preparation
The passage below describes the writer’s secret observation of her great-grandmother one night in her house in Paris.
a) Style and Language
This passage describes the writer’s secret observation of her great-grandmother on night in her house in Paris. This historical piece was written as fiction and it is set in Paris. The mood of the writing gives the readers a very secretive feeling, as if the readers themselves are watching the writer’s great grandmother. This analysis explores the style and language of this piece.
The writer’s piece gives a sense of mysteriousness about the author’s great-grandmother. The writer uses contrast to compare the fragility of the great-grandmother and the height of the ceiling, “I wondered what her errand might be, as she stood, so bent and shrunken, beneath the immense height of the ballroom.” Additionally, the writer used compared when the clocks started chiming and stopped chiming, to describe the author’s great-grandmother’s love for the clocks. “I could see her face, for her head was lifted, and her expression was a thing I shall never forget, so suddenly lighted up was it; so pleased; so gallant; so, even, amused.”
The writer described the surroundings to provide readers a sense of what it looks like, “And as the silence fluttered down once more, my great-grandmother drooped from her strange, humorous ecstasy, and it was as a little figure bent and tired that I saw her retrce her steps down the long vista of the lighted room.” The author used personification in the piece, “Silence fluttered once more”, to give human traits to the situation.
The author’s use of language depicts that the story is based in the 1800s. Words such as “stockinged feet” and “hushed palace of Sleeping Beauty” are symbols of the 19th century. The writer also makes literary reference to Sleeping Beauty.
Wilfred Owen Essay Question? :)
“It is hard to say who or what is the greatest enemy in the poetry of Wilfred Owen, for his bitterness is directed at more than one target.” Discuss.
Wilfred Owen is one of the most significant war poets during World War I. His poems reflect disturbing images of war and unnecessary sacrifices made during the war. It is evident that Owen’s bitterness is directed at more than one target. Throughout his poems, he targets political parties and the government for their propaganda. Owen is also aiming at the society’s behavior when the soldiers return from war. Owen also directs his bitterness towards the irony of religion. Wilfred Owen’s anti-war feelings are exceptionally strong in the three poems entitled “Anthem for Doomed Youth”, “Dulce et Decorum Est” and “Disabled”. These poems paint grueling images of the horrors of war and leaves readers with a feeling of injustice. This essay discusses Owen’s bitterness and agrees with the statement that it is hard to say who or what is the biggest enemy, as he had many.
Owen’s poems criticises the political parties during World War 1, because they were the ones who started the war. War is truly a gruesome experience. We live in a generation where chemical warfare is strongly developed and frequently carried out. People fought trench warfares during World War I with poisonous gases, where one of the deadliest kinds is the mustard gas. During the war, the soldiers had no choice but to fight until the end. There was no one who could survive mustard gas for more than four or five weeks. In Dulce et Decorum est, Owen wrote this line: “In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, he plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.” This line describes how helpless does the poet feel when he sees his friend/s reaction after inhaling mustard gas, the agony and pain it caused his friend was unbearable. After a short period of time, all one would see are maggots crawling out of the demented corpses. The soldiers aren’t the only ones who suffered, the friends, families and loved ones were suffering as well. One who dies would not remember what happened in the past, only the remainders would be grieving for the loss of someone they have once knew of so dearly. This shows that war does nothing but decay everything and Owen has written this line to describe how much he hated war for taking away the lives of millions, watching some of them dying innocently and helplessly in his arms, yet there was nothing he could do. The feeling of not being able to do anything, knowing there was nothing one could do, made him angry, thus, the poem was written with a lot of anger. Owen blamed the government and political parties for all these. They held propaganda that fooled young teenage boys into joining the army, without knowing what the consequences were.
Owen knew war was a painful experience. In his poem “Anthem for Doomed Youth”, that the government deceives us otherwise. Owen used similes and imagery to describe the soldiers at war. “What passing bells for those who die as cattle?” This describes the soldiers and victims as cattles that were merely sacrificed in the man slaughter. Owen’s way of putting war as the protagonist is to make it the villian, not a heroic figure. War itself does not start if it is not controlled and started by someone. Hence, Owen is also blaming whoever it is that started the war. He sees the slaughter of men as unnecessary. What he saw on the battlefields were nothing but corpses. “Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud; Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues.” Again, this expresses how much misery war has caused not only to the dead, but also to the remainders who need to “clean up” the mess in the on-going war. All they felt were pity and anger, looking at the dead who are now lying there without a sound, all of them innocent, not knowing what war was like and had experienced it for the first time and lost their lives. Owen has accused war for being the start of this misery. Some soldiers survived the war and returned, but it didn’t seem to interest the society in a glorious way. Infact, the soldiers were looked down and no one celebrated their returning. It was as if they went to war, risking their lives and came back without a sound. The society have forgotten what the soldiers have done for them.
Owen made religion one of the protagonist. He describes religion as merely a facade, a beautiful lie that everyone wants to believe in. In Dulce et Decorum Est, comes this haunting line: “But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, blind. Drunk with fatigue, deaf even to the hoots. Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.” This stood for the after effects that the soldiers had experienced, some have lost their limbs, some went blind and deaf, most have lost their minds. These people needed faith and hope at the darkest hours, but it sure didn’t provide them much of those during the war. Christianity served as a motivation before the war and every men joined with pride and glory, knowing that God would be right by their side when they call, but it was only a life’s joke. The priests’ job was only to preach and deceive, according to Owen’s biography, he was brought up by a strict family and studied in a Christian school but later lost his faith in the Christ. But most of his writings still reflect his past experiences with Christian teachings. Owen described Christianity as ironic. Christianity encourages love, peacemaking, compassion and so on, but if the government and the rest of the society believed in the Christ, why would there be war? Owen has stated that religion has not brought hope to those who needed it during hard times.
In conclusion, Owen’s poetry is directed at humankind. War is started by political groups and the government. The reasons for war could be petty arguments between a political leader and another. But it is not necessarily needed to be solved with war as it does no good, other than sacrificing others. The society is ignorant of where the source comes from, who did what for them and who fought for them. The soldiers were mostly ignored when they returned because they returned with disabilities. We do not see what we take for granted and the society has taken the fact that soldiers are to fight for us, not to thank for. After all, ignorance is bliss, no? Religion is only there to bring faith and hope for us but for miracles to take place doesn’t seem like a reality. Wilfred Owen’s poems have demonstrated these three points and have proven it right.
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