War Photgrapher by Carol Ann Duffy
In his dark room he is finally alone
with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows.
The only light is red and softly glows,
as though this were a church and he
a priest preparing to intone a Mass.
Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass.
with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows.
The only light is red and softly glows,
as though this were a church and he
a priest preparing to intone a Mass.
Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass.
He has a job to do. Solutions slop in trays
beneath his hands, which did not tremble then
though seem to now. Rural England. Home again
to ordinary pain which simple weather can dispel,
to fields which don’t explode beneath the feet
of running children in a nightmare heat.
beneath his hands, which did not tremble then
though seem to now. Rural England. Home again
to ordinary pain which simple weather can dispel,
to fields which don’t explode beneath the feet
of running children in a nightmare heat.
Something is happening. A stranger’s features
faintly start to twist before his eyes,
a half-formed ghost. He remembers the cries
of this man’s wife, how he sought approval
without words to do what someone must
and how the blood stained into foreign dust.
faintly start to twist before his eyes,
a half-formed ghost. He remembers the cries
of this man’s wife, how he sought approval
without words to do what someone must
and how the blood stained into foreign dust.
A hundred agonies in black and white
from which his editor will pick out five or six
for Sunday’s supplement. The reader’s eyeballs prick
with tears between the bath and pre-lunch beers.
From the aeroplane he stares impassively at where
he earns his living and they do not care.
from which his editor will pick out five or six
for Sunday’s supplement. The reader’s eyeballs prick
with tears between the bath and pre-lunch beers.
From the aeroplane he stares impassively at where
he earns his living and they do not care.
Analysis
"War Photographer" is written by the Scottish writer Carol Ann Duffy, published in 1985, War Photographer expresses the experiences of a Photographer who has taken hundred of photos in a war zone situation. The poem refer number of war strikes and the outcome of it.
War photographer is a emotional poem that says about a man
who is developing his latest batch of images from the latest war. He is in a
darkroom with chemicals to produce those photography images.
Carol Ann Duffy contrasts the quite moments of the
developing images at home; with the horrific scenes of the war that are about
to become black and white images; ready for publishing in a glossy Sunday
supplement. It creates an uneasiness for the readers, here a man getting paid
for recording human suffering without war and all its reality of obscene
violence. He closets attempt to save anyone, he lands in a foreign country
takes some photos, leaves and then gets top money for his photographs.
Is it right for someone to do such a thing? But without
those images of war that he brings back. The public might not be aware of what
is going on.
So he is performing a crucial task telling that stories of
those who are suffering. |The poem poses many question and challenges. As the
poem progresses it seems the speaker has come to the conclusion that here is a
man(photographer) who is not quite mercenary, not quite compassionate.
Analysis
Stanza -1
The war photographer is alone in his darkroom developing his war photos
Alliterative lines -spool of suffering – hints the plight of
the war victims.
Image – ordered rows suggesting headstones in a cemetery.
The red light signifies bloody danger.
The dark room is a place like church and the man is a
priest.
Last line of 1st stanza – Belfast – capital of
Northern Ireland troubled in 1970 and 80’s.
Beirut capital of Lebanon war torn for decades.
Phnom Penh - biggest city in Cambodia subject to violence
during Vietnam war of the 1960 & 70’s
Stanza – 2
This is his job. He uses chemicals to develop his pictures. He didn’t tremble when taking his photos but he is trembling now because he knows the image will affect him. Even though he’s back home in the quite coldantry side of England. Yet he knows he is about to confront those realities of war again.Stanza – 3
Now the first hint of an image appears on the paper. It is
strange and it starts to twist before his eyes.
Half formed ghost –
image, something out of a horror story. His memory is triggered and he is able
to recall a wife, her cries, and his need to get approval before he shot victim.
Stanza – 4
He is taken 100 pictures of the war victims but only a few
will be chosen for the paper. On the Sunday, the day of rest, many people will
be affected by the photos. This is the desired effect to disturb the reader and
get a reaction from those not often used to seeing images of war on a day away
from work, as they relax before going off to the pub.
Final two lines sees the photographer in a plane for his
next assignment.
This is what the poem asks again and again how can this man
remain impassive, how can this human being not get involved emotionally in the
horrors of war.
He risks his neck to get those pictures. But while someday
is dying in front of his eyes. He is more worried about the focus his lens than
the human suffering. How does he cope with the guilt?
Structure :stanzaic poem. Four stanza, six lines.
Rhyme -abbcdd –(some lines give)
Alliteration: - spools of suffering
He has solution…………slop
Assonance: Two or more words together in a line and have similar
sounding vowels.
Weather can dispel…… beneath the feet…………
Which
his editor will pick…
Metaphor: A figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable.
Ex: Darkroom – photographer’s state of mind (emotional)
Similes : A figure of speech involving the camparison of one thing with another thing of a different kind, used to make a description more emphatic or vivid.
Ex: The only light is red and softly glows,
as though this were a church and he
priest preparing to intone a Mass.
Thank you.
Ex: The only light is red and softly glows,
as though this were a church and he
priest preparing to intone a Mass.
Thank you.
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