Metphors

lga24uk — 2013-06-26 08:23:10 UTC

English Lit (Spec B) Critical Anthology

lga24uk — 2013-06-26 08:27:56 UTC

This is a poem by a Liverpudlian named

Roger McGough

40 - Love

middle aged

couple playing

ten nis

when the

game ends

and they

go home

the net

will still

be be

tween them

Explantion of Above

lga24uk — 2013-06-26 08:33:01 UTC

The poem above is said to show a 'Human Relationship is a Game of Sport'.

The reference to '40' in the title may represent the couples age.

The 'Love' represents the human relationship as well as the sport. The

structure also shows how a game of tennis is played back and fourth,

which may show that relationships are give and take.

Further Explanation

lga24uk — 2013-06-26 08:40:54 UTC

Tennis is a non contact sport, however there is contact through the ball, which could represent the couples words acting like a rally in tennis going back and fourth.

The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe

lga24uk — 2013-06-26 08:49:54 UTC

http://www.schooltube.com/video/e850bdb733e729c582a9/

Metaphors & Idioms

lga24uk — 2013-06-26 09:09:54 UTC

An idiom is a group of words which has

a special meaning, which is different

from the meanings of some or all of

the individual words.

A metaphor is a way of describing

something, by referring it as something

different

The Raven

lga24uk — 2013-07-10 08:24:38 UTC

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a
quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping,
suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my
chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door
-
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in
the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From
my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and
radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for
evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple
curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt
before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood
repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some
late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and
nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no
longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But
the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you
came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you'
- here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing
more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream
before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And
the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I
whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and
nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me
burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than
before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window
lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let
my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and
nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not
the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with
mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of
Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing
more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the
grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be
shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and
ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name
is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much
I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its
answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing
that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his
chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber
door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on
the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word
he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he
fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown
before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown
before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness
broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its
only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful
disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore
-
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of
"Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into
smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and
door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto
fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly,
ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking
`Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable
expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's
core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the
cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet
violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah,
nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen
censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted
floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has
sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of
Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost
Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of
evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether
tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert
land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore
-
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I
implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of
evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us -
by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the
distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore
-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth
the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or
fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the
Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul
hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my
door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting,
still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my
chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is
dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the
floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

What My Friends are Doing?

lga24uk — 2013-07-10 08:26:19 UTC

http://padlet.com/wall/EnglishLit-Dani

Symbolism

lga24uk — 2013-07-10 08:30:22 UTC

Symbolism plays an important role in literature.

Symbols used by writers may be personal or private, because of this it

can cause problems for the readers interpetation of what the writer actually means.

Childrens writers have often used symbols in their narrative. One of the most well known

symbols is of the kitchen where it stands for safety and comradeship, which can be seen

in the film 'The Wind In The Willows'

However the kitchen symbol can also be used in the opposite way, as an extract from

George MacDonald's 'The Princess and Curdie'

Metaphors by Lizzy