Monday Musing

 I spent the weekend studying 'Conscious', a poem by WW1 poet and soldier Wilfred Owen. 

His fingers wake, and flutter; up the bed.
His eyes come open with a pull of will,
Helped by the yellow mayflowers by his head.
The blind-cord drawls across the window-sill…
What a smooth floor the ward has! What a rug!
Who is that talking somewhere out of sight?
Three flies creeping round the shiny jug…
'Nurse! Doctor!'-'Yes; all right, all right.'

But sudden evening muddles all the air.
There seems no time to want a drink of water.
Nurse looks so far away. And here and there
Music and roses burst through crimson slaughter.
He can't remember where he saw blue sky…
The trench is narrower. Cold, he's cold; yet hot —
And there's no light to see the voices by…
There is no time to ask… he knows not what.

This is the poem to be analyzed in my assignment TMA02 (Tutor Marked Assignment). I have to analyze the 'Effects', 'Techniques', 'Context' and 'Meaning' of the poem. It's not easy!

Wish me luck!

I read my piece 'Y Pentref' out at my writers' group this evening. It was well received with no criticisms.