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Exposure Analysis



Author: poem of Wilfred Owen Type: poem Views: 61


    I

Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us . . .
Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent . . .
Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient . . .
Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
        But nothing happens.

Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
Northward incessantly, the flickering gunnery rumbles,
Far off, like a dull rumour of some other war.
        What are we doing here?

The poignant misery of dawn begins to grow . . .
We only know war lasts, rain soaks, and clouds sag stormy.
Dawn massing in the east her melancholy army
Attacks once more in ranks on shivering ranks of gray,
        But nothing happens.

Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence.
Less deadly than the air that shudders black with snow,
With sidelong flowing flakes that flock, pause and renew,
We watch them wandering up and down the wind's nonchalance,
        But nothing happens.


    II

Pale flakes with lingering stealth come feeling for our faces --
We cringe in holes, back on forgotten dreams, and stare, snow-dazed,
Deep into grassier ditches.  So we drowse, sun-dozed,
Littered with blossoms trickling where the blackbird fusses.
        Is it that we are dying?

Slowly our ghosts drag home:  glimpsing the sunk fires glozed
With crusted dark-red jewels; crickets jingle there;
For hours the innocent mice rejoice:  the house is theirs;
Shutters and doors all closed:  on us the doors are closed --
        We turn back to our dying.

Since we believe not otherwise can kind fires burn;
Now ever suns smile true on child, or field, or fruit.
For God's invincible spring our love is made afraid;
Therefore, not loath, we lie out here; therefore were born,
        For love of God seems dying.

To-night, His frost will fasten on this mud and us,
Shrivelling many hands and puckering foreheads crisp.
The burying-party, picks and shovels in their shaking grasp,
Pause over half-known faces.  All their eyes are ice,
        But nothing happens.

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||| Analysis | Critique | Overview Below |||




.: :.

Greetings, i realise that none of you here are infact Wilfred Owen's Grandchildren. This is because i am THE IMMORTAL Wilfred Owen, thats right, praise me :* peace out my disciples

| Posted on 2014-04-07 | by a guest


.: :.

dont really care uf he is your granddad.. i came to look for an anaylsis not a sob story

| Posted on 2013-07-17 | by a guest


.: :.

wilfred owen is shive sharmas grandad he is from malinslee telford england

| Posted on 2012-06-19 | by a guest


.: :.

exposure indicates the things they were exposed to like the weather..
and DONT LIE WILFRED OWEN WASNT YOUR GRANDAD BECAUSE HE IS MY GREAT GRANDAD AND I GOT THINGS FROM HIM PASSED DOWN TO ME WHEN MY GRANDAD DIED SO PLEASE DONT LIE FOR ATTENTION BY TH WAY MY NAME IS TIMOTHY OWEN SEARCH ME IF YOU DONT BELIEVE ME

| Posted on 2012-03-26 | by a guest


.: :.

this poem isx about the war, wilfred was boying of da ting. METAPHORS ARE GOOD

| Posted on 2012-03-13 | by a guest


.: :.

Owen uses caesura in the poem to reinforce the idea of a pause: \"pause over half-known faces. All their eyes are ice,\"
I KNOW THIS VERY WELL BECAUSE WILFRED OWEN WAS MY GRANDAD

| Posted on 2011-11-03 | by a guest


.: :.

Owen was a modernist at heart - he rejected Romantic principles and turned them upside down - as seen in this poem. GO WILFRED OWEN! DOWN WITH POST-MODERNISM!

| Posted on 2011-01-06 | by a guest


.: :.

WE FEEL THIS POEM IS VERY POWERFULL AND SHOULD BE TAKEN VERY SERIOUSLY.THE WAY OWEN TALKS ABOUT THE COLDNESS STROKING YOUR FACE MAKES YOU REALISE HOW COLD IT MUST HAVE BEEN - AS IF IT IS SNOWING.

| Posted on 2010-10-01 | by a guest


.: :.

This poem shows the coldness and the deathly winds of the trenches.The soldiers feel everything is against them.

| Posted on 2010-10-01 | by a guest


.: :.

26th November 2007
Critical Appreciation of ‘Exposure’
During 1914-1918, World War One raged. No one from that century had seen anything like it and this provoked a variety of responses. Wilfred Owen chose poetry to convey his feelings on this topic and ‘Exposure’ is an example of this, although not on the subject matter that one would quite expect. It describes a personal experience of being so cold that they begin to hallucinate and eventually, one soldier dies. To begin with, the title is a summary of how soldiers are mentally stripped of human dignity because they are broken by the tedium, exposed to death. The title harshly, but accurately condenses the poem.
Owen also portrays the tedium of the War by how he structures the poem. The poem is written in eight stanzas, each of 4 lines. This regularity gives a very repetitive feel and so subdues the poem, which is already bleak from the terrible weather. The ABBAC half rhyme enhances this effect to, as though the soldiers are now resigned to their death ‘Tonight this frost will fasten on us’.
At the end of most stanzas there is a repeated motif , usually similar to ‘but nothing happens’. Owen is repeatedly emphasizing the lack of stinulation thre is for the soliders and therefore the contradiction the stories of the jingoized home front that would have used to encourage them to sign up to fight.
Owen’s use of first person plural throughout the poem allows the experience to seem his own and thus more personal. ‘Wearied we keep awake’ and ‘on us the doors are closed’ are examples of how the first person can enhance the feeling of a brotherhood of soldiers fighting together against the enemy. The troop seems united by similar feelings ‘our brains ache’ and makes that which they are fighting appear more cruel as it is attacking a large band of men bonded together by the experience ,who share in common beliefs ‘ we believe not otherwise can kind fires burn.’
Sibilance adds to the weather’s menace ‘Merciless iced east winds that knive us’ creates a hissing sound which actually gives the sense of the cruel wind being present. Through the onomatopoeia this creates, the wind seems more imposing and more of a substantial enemy as it is so eminent. The sound that the sharpness of the sounds the words creates is like ‘sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence’, alerting the reader to the ‘sudden’ situation. The sibilances also describes the bullet’s movement themselves, penetrating ‘the air’ and ‘silence’ abruptly. This technique is used in Owen’s other poem like ‘Dulce et Decorum Est’. However unlike ‘Exposure’ the sibilance is used to a different effect. ‘Obscene as cancer’ uses the hissing sound to enhance Owen’s anger towards ‘the old Lie: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.’ by mimicking a hushed angry whisper which communicates the poems very evident bitter tone. Like the bullets, here onomatopoeia is employed to mimic the gun’s sounds in ‘Anthem for Doomed Youth’ also.
Owen uses caesura in the poem, mainly to slow it down, but also to represent the line’s meaning in the actual words. In ‘Pause over half-known faces. All their eyes are ice,’ the caesura little splits the line in two and we have a literal representation of the soldiers’ identity. This unique type of imagery is also used by Sassoon in ‘The Hero’. He uses caesura to cu the line up just as Jack had been ‘Blown to small bits.’
The next technique Owen uses in ‘Exposure’ is the ellipsis;

| Posted on 2008-02-05 | by a guest




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