In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.



The poem ‘In Flanders Field’ by John McCrae is written about the soldiers that fought in the war and now lie dead in their graves in Flanders Field, surrounded by blood-red poppies, as written in the first stanza. These soldiers were normal people who fought for the country, and died trying. ‘We are the dead. Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, loved and were loved…’ They fought bravely for us, and we should appreciate it.

The poet has written this poem for a purpose. That purpose is not to evoke a sense of guilt in the reader, although it is inevitable, but rather to inform the reader and pass on knowledge of the events that occurred. The poet has written this poem in the hope that we give our respects to those brave soldiers, and really appreciate what they have done for us; the lengths at which they have suffered and the courage and strength it required. This poem bears a message, written in Stanza 3; ‘Take up our quarrel with the foe: to you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold it high.’ In other words, find the courage to continue the fight, do not give in, hold your hopes high, for the soldiers have passed this legacy to you.

The poem starts off with quite a sad, peaceful, sombre mood as the poet describes the graves in Flanders Field; ‘In Flanders fields the poppies blow between the crosses, row on row, that mark our place…’ However, as the poem progresses to Stanza 2, the mood changes and the poem becomes more heartfelt, as the poet writes about what these soldiers used to be; ‘We are the dead. Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, loved and were loved…’ In Stanza 3, the poem becomes sombre once again, as the poet imparts a final message, from the soldiers.

This poem has been constructed with three stanzas, each with a differing number of lines. There is one similarity between the stanzas however, and that is that (with the exception of Stanza 2) the lines 1, 2 and 5 rhyme – with an ‘oh’ sound, and lines 3 and 4 rhyme – with an ‘ee’ sound. The poet has quite cleverly written this poem; using short sentences to state blatant facts, giving the facts emphasis, ‘We are the Dead.’ The poet also quite cleverly uses simple sentences containing complex meanings that intone the poem with quite a sombre mood, suitable to its context; ‘If ye break faith with us who die we shall not sleep…’ The poet has used many striking examples of imagery, particularly in the first paragraph, where you can see a vivid image of the scene in your mind; ‘In Flanders fields the poppies blow between the crosses, row on row, that mark our place…’ This is enough to account for the fact that the poet has not used any imagery techniques.

The poet has very cleverly considered each and every aspect of the poem; to the message that is included, to the language he has used, and the sombre mood, even the structure fits in perfectly. The poet has done this so that everything fits in perfectly with the context and his poem runs smoothly.

Poetry

A Cloud

A fluffy pillow,

A cluster of feathers,

A bad omen,

But a saviour in times of drought.

A blanket of mist,

A sheild from the sun,

A cold icy breath,

Or perhaps a hot humid one.

This peom uses a technigue called metaphors. A metaphor implies that one thing is another, and it is a stronger form of comparison than a similie.

The Giver

The Giver is an intriguing book that is written by Louis Lowry about a boy, Jonas, who lives in a utopian society. The interesting element to this book is that in the community, a ‘Committee of Elders’ have eliminated any aspect of life that might pose a threat to its perfect, orderly, controlled way of life; including hunger, pain, suffering, rudeness, loneliness, as well as colours, varying climates, music, feelings and a lot more. Jonas, however, has the traits of a ‘Receiver of Memories.’ He has been oblivious to the real world, the would that you and I live in, through out his life, but his training changes all of that. Through the memories that he receives through the Giver, Jonas experiences pain and suffering, as well as love and happiness, with growing wisdom and knowledge. Throughout the book, the most creative and imaginative thoughts that might occasionally pop into one’s head have become real life. A very ambiguous ending completely sets a story that is what I consider to be the most creative and intriguing book.

English Short Story

Journey Across the Lake

Lady Annabelle stepped out of the black carriage carrying a large, leather suitcase and onto the dusty, cobblestone street of the rundown port. She pulled her royal blue, silk shawl more tightly around her as a cold, misty wind blew past. Nearby a small boy dozed on an old, wooden bench placed near the lake’s edge, where two men were loading up a small, dilapidated steamboat, one a gray-haired man, small and plump, and the other tall with dark hair.
“Excuse me,” she questioned the tall man, “where is the boat travelling to Port Brevnon?”
“You’re looking at it,” he replied casually.
“There must be some mistake,” she spoke more clearly now, feeling confused, “I’m Lady Annabelle and I’m travelling to Port Brevnon, on the other side of the lake.
“No, no mistake,” he smiled, “oh, and I’m Jonathon and I’ll be your travelling companion along with Mr Drodger here and Thomas over there,” pointing to the small boy she had seen before.
Lady Annabelle was now very confused, but she wandered dumbly onto the small steamboat and dumped her suitcase in the dingy cabin. She then started laying out her belongings, until she was rudely interrupted.
“What do you think your doing?” growled Jonathon.
“And why is it any of your business?” she replied nastily.
“Well, maybe because EVERYONE is sleeping in this room and not just you!”
Annabelle scowled and, rummaging through her suitcase, found her nightgown and collapsed on her small, lumpy bed, leaving her clothes in a mess.
The next morning she awoke to a large commotion outside.
“I’ll get you for this boy!” Mr Drodger yelled, running after Thomas and showing a large, jagged bald patch reading ‘Kick Me’ on his head. Eventually Mr Drodger’s breathing got heavier and he paused to catch his breath near the edge of the boat, oblivious to sneaky Thomas creeping up behind him, until he felt a slight shove and fell, with a large splash, into the cold, grey depths of the lake… right next to a large, floating suitcase!
What are my suitcase, and all my other belongings, doing in the lake?” Annabelle glowered, her voice thick with fury.
“That’s what happens when you leave stuff lying around,” laughed Jonathon, his blue eyes twinkling.
Annabelle felt a slight wind on her back and knew that Thomas was behind her. She tried to escape but it was too late, and before she knew it, she too landed into the cold, grey depths of the lake.
“I’ll get you for this,” she muttered to herself as she fished out her dripping clothes.
Later, when Annabelle was somewhat drier, she called Thomas and gave him a drink, a drink which contained a large portion of milk and lake mud scraped off her still dripping clothes. As Thomas took a sip his face contorted into a grimace and he spat the disgusting stuff out.
“Ha, payback,” she remarked.
“Hey lady,” Mr Drodger yelled, “go get my caskets of wine!” at Annabelle, quite out of the blue. She was about to reply when Jonathon replied for her.
“Don’t tell her what to d..,” Jonathon yelled back, to Annabelle’s surprise.
“Go scrub the toilet!” interjected Mr Drodger rudely, cutting Jonathon off. He then turned around and trudged into the cabin and feeling tired, fell asleep, so that loud snores could be heard.
With a secret wink and a small giggle from Annabelle they started dragging the bed on which Mr Drodger was sleeping on into the lake. Soon the bed was floating away as the three laughed their heads off. They spent the rest of the afternoon celebrating and drank all Mr Drodger’s wine until they were falling about the deck like idiots.
They arrived in Port Brevnon late that night under the moonlit sky and the three friends hugged goodbye (with Annabelle and Jonathon sharing a kiss), their faces glowing with happiness.

My First Blog

Hello