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Friday, September 28, 2012

Literature: Originally by Carol Ann Duffy

I'm studying literature today and am onto 'Originally' by Carol Ann Duffy.

I felt like I could somewhat relate to this poem but on a different context. As people have a different perspective after reading a poem,mine is up to you to decipher. Many details are often rather ambiguous so I would say you gotta analyze it bit by bit and not read it as a whole.

After all,that's what we lit students do,don't we? ;)

Here's the original poem:
We came from our own country in a red room
which fell through the fields, our mother singing
our father’s name to the turn of the wheels.
My brothers cried, one of them bawling Home,
Home, as the miles rushed back to the city,
the street, the house, the vacant rooms
where we didn’t live any more. I stared
at the eyes of a blind toy, holding its paw.

All childhood is an emigration. Some are slow
leaving you standing, resigned up an avenue
where no one you know stays. Others are sudden.
Your accent wrong. Corners, which seem familiar
leading to unimagined, pebble-dashed estates, big boys
eating worms and shouting words you don’t understand.
My parents’ anxiety stirred like a loose tooth
in my head. I want our own country, I said.

But then you forget, or don’t recall, or change,
and, seeing your brother swallow a slug, feel only
a skelf of shame. I remember my tongue
shedding it’s skin like a snake, my voice
in the classroom sounding just like the rest. Do I only think
I lost a river, culture, speech, sense of first space
and the right place? Now, Where do you come from?
strangers ask. Originally? And I hesitate.

And here's mine:
Us,You and Me
We came from a year where everyone knows me,
and everyone knows you. Us, singing the school song
to the turn of time.

Came back, and I saw you. Our eyes met,
as we nod and smiled in recognition.
Go away, I went. Wait,I halted. Come back,I came.

At last I cried,Come back,Come back,as Father merely
watched the hourglass slipped. The pen,the hair tie and the dress
were a thing of the past. I stared at pictures that lost their Soul.

All transition may not be progressive. Up the avenue, to
corners that seemed familiar, led to unfamiliar faces.
I want us,I said. But then you forget, or don't recall, or change.

Seeing thy is a sense of disappointment. Did I only lost
a person,character,friend and soul mate? Everyone knows us.
Now, How are you and him? Strangers ask. Him? And I hesitate.

There! Do I need to analyze this poem for you? Haha! Those who knows this poem should be able to understand this much better. Or simply put it,much easier for them.

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