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Strange Meeting Analysis

Author: poem of Wilfred Owen Type: poem Views: 71

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It seemed that out of the battle I escaped

Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped

Through granites which Titanic wars had groined.

Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,

Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.

Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared

With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,

Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.

And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall;

With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained;

Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,

And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.

"Strange, friend," I said, "Here is no cause to mourn."

"None," said the other, "Save the undone years,

The hopelessness.  Whatever hope is yours,

Was my life also; I went hunting wild

After the wildest beauty in the world,

Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,

But mocks the steady running of the hour,

And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.

For by my glee might many men have laughed,

And of my weeping something has been left,

Which must die now.  I mean the truth untold,

The pity of war, the pity war distilled.

Now men will go content with what we spoiled.

Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.

They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress,

None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.

Courage was mine, and I had mystery;

Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery;

To miss the march of this retreating world

Into vain citadels that are not walled.

Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels

I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,

Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.

I would have poured my spirit without stint

But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.

Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.

I am the enemy you killed, my friend.

I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned

Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.

I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.

Let us sleep now . . ."

    (This poem was found among the author's papers.

    It ends on this strange note.)

  *Another Version*

Earth's wheels run oiled with blood.  Forget we that.

Let us lie down and dig ourselves in thought.

Beauty is yours and you have mastery,

Wisdom is mine, and I have mystery.

We two will stay behind and keep our troth.

Let us forego men's minds that are brute's natures,

Let us not sup the blood which some say nurtures,

Be we not swift with swiftness of the tigress.

Let us break ranks from those who trek from progress.

Miss we the march of this retreating world

Into old citadels that are not walled.

Let us lie out and hold the open truth.

Then when their blood hath clogged the chariot wheels

We will go up and wash them from deep wells.

What though we sink from men as pitchers falling

Many shall raise us up to be their filling

Even from wells we sunk too deep for war

And filled by brows that bled where no wounds were.

    *Alternative line --*

Even as One who bled where no wounds were.


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

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ज़ न दग क हर मक म त म ह ह स ल ह , य तमन न ह म र बस त मस स मन न ह फ र कभ , य ख व ह श ब क रह ग lekin milne ki khwahish to kaeehn na kaeehn baki rahti hi hai...bahut sundar kavita. x x

| Posted on 2013-11-18 | by a guest

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To those in the service of these United States of America and many other coreiutns. Your dedication and selflessness is not, and will never be forgotten. Merry Christmas wishes to you all. May we all see many, many more, together.

| Posted on 2013-11-15 | by a guest

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My feelings for you are as crisp and clear as the sound of ftpsoteos in freshly fallen snow on a Winter morn,a love clear and pure guided by what is felt, signposts all around unseen but now understoodYour glow leaves the world blinded and silent, the only sound my beating heart, full and warm with its purpose foundMy longing for you, akin to the spirit breathed into a freshly born lamb in Spring,previously limp and stumbling it bounds forth it's eyes now open, the beauty of it's existance finaly seen, completeMy love a summer bulb that once slumbered unperceived, now woke and sprouting through succulent dew soaked grass,it seeks the distant glow undetered, able to flourish and show the bloom once held withinMy valentine I'll forever cherish like a basket of rosey red apples plucked from the tree in Autumn, luscious and sweetlove's bountiful harvest bundled into my arms, once tasted never forgoten or let go, forever yours, forever mine x x

| Posted on 2013-11-14 | by a guest

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that you’d rather be pcerahed at than the watch mindless dribble that is usually on TV. Though The Newsroom has been torn up by the critics like a tornado, at least it’s gotten everyone talking, and that’s half the battle! From the most respected news sources, like NPR and The New Yorker, to just a few of my coworkers around the lunch table at Dish, it seems like everyone has an opinion on the show; I commend the series for that, since it’s rare that we get a TV program that actually engages our minds! My knowledge on the rest of the series that beat The Newsroom in premier viewings is limited, but I think they may be worth checking out to see what type of shows our culture is drawn to if not The Newsroom! Fortunately, I have the Hopper DVR that can record or watch up to six things at once during primetime hours, since it seems like I am going to need all of it to catch up! I didn’t realize how many popular shows were out there!

| Posted on 2013-11-12 | by a guest

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Thank God for our pttoecrors and thank you, to our pttoecrors.You have all sacrificed so much, for your families, your countries and all that live in them.You have my gratitude and my heart always.May this year bring Everyone the Best that can be given.God Bless and Thank You.

| Posted on 2013-11-12 | by a guest

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this poem by wilfred owen critically shows annd analyses how futal war can be and how much of a waste of time war is, it simply discusses the futility of war as stated in the poem\". I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled.
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress,

| Posted on 2013-06-14 | by a guest

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\'to be or not to be\' aren\'t that be thee question

| Posted on 2011-08-22 | by a guest

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Analysis of \'Strange Meeting\' by Wilfred Owen \'Strange Meeting\' by Wilfred Owen is a poem about a soldier in the First World War who makes contact with the spirit of a dead soldier\'s soul. After reading this poem, you know that the poet is against the war, and that war is somewhat worse than hell. The poem begins with the relief of a soldier as he escapes the war. Later on in the poem, the soldier meets the spirit of a dead soldier, and that is when he realises where he is. The spirit tells the soldier that if you go into war you are simply wasting your life. It also mentions the cruelty and harshness of war, and what it\'s like to be there. Although the poem is almost completely a monologue, there is some dialogue and narration too. Narration is to be found at the beginning, as the soldier leaves. By Ezeigbo Ivan C.

| Posted on 2011-07-12 | by a guest

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Strange Meeting is a short elegy lamenting a soldier-poets participation in World War I, the most cataclysmic event that had occurred up until that period in recorded history. The poem is written in the first person; it can be safely assumed that Wilfred Owen and the narrator are the same person and that this is Owens private journey into hell.By Ezeigbo Ivan C.

| Posted on 2011-07-12 | by a guest

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inspired by Shelley\'s the revolt of Islam, Owen wanted to convey the message he was trying to about peace and justice but in a much more realistic and chilling way. He often felt cheated by such poets who wrote about subjects they didn\'t truly understand as had not experienced. Sigfried Sassoon called this poem his \"passport to immortality\".

| Posted on 2011-05-21 | by a guest

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i think he was one of da few men who didnt glorify wars but actually brought to light its gruesome ordeals

| Posted on 2011-05-14 | by a guest

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\'Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared\'
This line shows imagery of the lifeless soliders. To probe something i normally get the sense of someone exploring and discovering, and probe can also be referred as an instrument to check the temprature of food. Wilfred Owen may have used this to portray the image of soldiers being like dead meat. The line may show a sense of death and a metaphor to symbolise the soldiers body as cold dead meat being checked to see if its warm/still alive.

| Posted on 2010-12-20 | by a guest

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The poem ‘Strange Meeting’, seems to be an outlandish dream sequence about an enemy soldier that the persona of the poem had killed recently. This enemy claims to be the personas counterpart, another poet, and now that he has been killed, he cannot stop future wars.

‘Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:’
The sentences show that this poet had what it took to stop future wars, but was killed before he could put his plan into action. However, his views might have just been a fantasy of a man sick of war and ‘the pity of war’.
These two lines end in similar sounding words, as does the rest of the poem. This half-rhyme ending gives an awkward feel throughout the poem, maybe because the persona is not in his natural world, and feels out of place and uneasy being in an underground trench carved out of ‘titanic wars’, full of people he had possibly killed.

| Posted on 2010-12-04 | by a guest

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This is a wonderful poem, which brings out the damages caused by a war by wilfred owen.

| Posted on 2010-06-18 | by a guest

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It follows a close analogous structural opening to Dante's Inferno; that of a tunnel to the underworld.
There is a strange doubling of the men that suggests that the two are as one now, when one life was taken so was the other.

| Posted on 2010-06-08 | by a guest

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The title of a 'Strange meeting' itself is ambigious as the soilders are well aware of their involvement in the war as this is suggested in the line 'I went hunting after the wildest beauty in the world', therefore this could perhaps be a reflect the physchological disintergration the soilders experiance or the unity/ meetings which is made not through moral means but through immortality and 'hell' shown by the 'sullen hall' where 'encumbered sleepers groaned'. This itself generates pathos as ironically the real humanitarian greeting is made in this hell where when 'probed', one solider 'sprang up and stared' and as reconignition of the poems speakers presence lifted 'distressful hands as if to bless'. This intertwines a biblical reference, which is supported by the 'chariot wheels' which are featured in the famous British song 'Jerusulum' in order to channel patriotism and identity 'bring me my chariot of desire'. The 'blood clogged' wheels are then said to be washed from 'sweet wells' which shows the tainted reflection the model of victory (chariot)is meant to show, as wells are associated with the underground, and the underground is assocated with 'hell' or as shown in this poem the 'profound dark tunnel'. Therefore the fact they would clean a chariot which symbolises victory and hope with the sweats of decomposed flesh is an indication of the lives which are taken in order to maintain preservation of a countrys pride and patriotic feeling. The only flicker of hope which is indicated in this poem is the 'something that is left', the 'truth' which 'lies to deep to taint'. However even this is put to loss as although is it powerful and absolute, it 'must die' as the soul which harbours is purity is killed in battle, so the 'pity of war' is never really put to light by men who are reliable, as suggested in this poem, the physchological damage is unspeakable where 'foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were' so the evidence we may gain perhaps can be reflected as waffle from 'damaged goods'. The structure of this poem is dislocated and there is no reconiseable pattern, suggesting the varied emotions derived when people are 'too fast in thought or death to be bestirred', the layout is indiscriminate as many people say there thoughts are before they pass away. The ellipsis used at the last line of the poem 'let us sleep now...' gives a feeling of trancending into immortality. The way Owen has used chemistry between the soliders, 'I am the enemy you killed my friend' shows the unity and mark of respect the soilders feel despite them being from opposing sides. This way of ending the poem I believe highlights the only line drawn between humans is constructed by political agenda, and is diminished when the last days arise, as they are all it seems in the same boat, again linking in with the idea of 'hell' as Charon was a mythological old ferryman that ferried the dead into the Underworld showing the immortal life the soilders will now pass into. This poem very much supports the line 'Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori' (it is sweet and filling to die for one's country) as it almost shows up the manipulation of drawing opposing sides, as it is purposeless when the men are dying, as humanity is either regained or the soliders are too immune to this idea of giving away ones soul by killing their enemies for the dignity of a countries name. The element of forgiveness is shown in such a way, the unity at the end almost neutralises the pathos generated throughout the poem. viki- 17- sorry for the spelling/grammar mistakes!!

| Posted on 2010-06-03 | by a guest

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Strange Meeting recognises the soldier's shared humanity with the enemy. He calls him "friend", in death they are both victems and no longer enemies. The poem shows the futility of war. So many talented men dying on both sides. Owen despairs of the men killed before they have given the world what they had to offer. Here the poem relates to him personally as he mourns the death of a fellow poet who died before he could deliver his message, "the truth untold". He uses a conventional form but the pararhymes, such as "groined" and "groaned" give a haunting, chilling quality to the poem. The poem above is also not the full correct text, some lines are missing.

| Posted on 2010-04-07 | by a guest

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strange meeting is a modern poem by wilfred owen where the poet is expressing the nature of humanity in the context of traditionality and modernity in a poetic diction of awareness and consciousness in realism. the notion of our human life is mystery and mastery in modern context of creativity and natural in-born talent of digressive sensibility . in upsc this poem is very often asked for critical appreciation for appreciative literature and criticism . the modernity exhibited in this poem is embedded with reforms in international governance principles in a poetic exposition soaked in administrative cum literary trend. any candidate appearing in upsc with english literature and public administration knows very well to lead this poetic contents in different angularity of vision in a honorific way. therefore strange meeting reveals clinical vision of critic and criticism.

| Posted on 2009-10-27 | by a guest

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