Edmond Barry-Personal Narrative

In addition to this, the poem uses auditory imagery to shatter the dream-like atmosphere that has been created surrounding the suburb, with the “howl of the twin-cam war party” and the “techno pulse” destroying the tranquillity, and emanating the “invasion” of Australia by the Europeans over 200 years ago. This further works to evoke feelings of empathy from the reader by allowing them to observe “eye for an eye” philosophy, present throughout the poem, in phrases such as “areas we treat with the same contempt laid upon us”. These ideologies are present throughout Samuel Wagan Watson’s body of work, with many poems throughout the anthology displaying similar attitudes towards the colonisation of Australia, and the degradation of the spirituality of the land that followed.

The work itself was everything I expected as far as a powerful message being delivered, which as I said in my last entry, Mr. Laymon does a fine job at. Mr. Laymon speaks of the connections formed between him and a man in Poughkeepsie, New York, as well as observations as an educator, and the links between the two. The essential

Poetry can take many forms and shapes based on the authors personal experiences. These different styles can also be interpreted in many different ways based on the reader’s view of the poem. This possible change in views can give the poem many different meanings to each individual person. “Richard Cory” by Edwin Robinson, Edwin imbeds many of his past and personal experiences into the poem while still leaving the poem up to other peoples imagination and analysis’s.

He conveys this belief through his tone directed at travel brochures, loathing them as they insult the ‘intelligence and contravened any notions of free will’ not allowing the individuals ‘creative thoughts’ to form. As humanity has a ‘primordial innocence and optimism’ landscapes that inherently appeal to the individual’s anticipation, landscapes can be deceptive as with ones desires often exceed that of our pragmatic reality with the faculty of the imagination creating an internal hyperbolic aspiration to achieve unrealistic desires. To further explore this element De Botton turns to J.-K. Huysman’s novel A Reboures, using the character framing of Duc des Essenites, an extremely cynical and misanthropic character, to illustrate the provocative insights created by deceptive landscapes. Upon reading dickens the Duc entered state of naivety as it ‘evoked decisions of English life which he contemplated at length and grew increasingly keen to see.’ However, due to the aspects of practicality conflicting with the experiences of London the landscape he is overcome with lassitude as he experiences a ‘mental aberration’ causing him to, ‘rejected the visions of my obedient reality.’ This excerpt used by de botton demonstrates Emerson’s beliefs to readers, demonstrating that literature evoke individual thoughts that may otherwise remain

Edwin Robinson was an American poet during the twentieth century. His intense dedication to his poetry allowed him to be considered one of the most unique American Poets of all time. Through his short poem Richard Cory, Robinson demonstrates his undeniable skill that is his poetry. On his incongruous portrayal of a quiet man that is admired by many, Richard Cory manages to entertain the reader as well as leave them overwhelmed with confusion. Robinson’s usage of theme, point of view, and tone allows the short poem to have quite an astonishing effect upon the audience.

It all began in a small town by the name of Silverside, an ordinary town, modest in every aspect. There was a great sense of community there, in everyone except one lonely person, who had once strived to be in the spotlight. Now he lay hidden behind walls of stone and secrecy, holed away in a tiny cottage at the edge of the town. His name was Julius Averell and he had turned away a life of fame for life in a town where he could write in peace. No one knew anything about him and he received few visitors, usually from out of town bringing news from the outside world.

Rain pattered down against the cobblestone streets of nineteenth-century England, pooling in the dips and cracks of the uneven rocks. Each pool of raindrops reflected the light of the lanterns, each carefully lit to illuminate the way for those returning home late to their families or an empty house. There didn’t seem to be much space in between the two; either you had somebody or you didn’t. In the case of Angelica Porter, she was the latter.

Sitting in a chair in my study, I stared out into the vast landscape of Grand Isle from a gaunt window. Staring as intently as this, people would think one as insane. I can assure you that I am not insane. I simply would just stare at the ocean and listen to its wave’s crash upon the shore. It was loud and angry, as if taking one's wife was not enough to satisfy it. I suppose it was something that Edna had in common with the ocean; they were both ludicrous. It only took me so long to see the comparison. To see what they were really like.

Three droning tones served as the morning call of the bustling businesswoman as she awoke in the city that never sleeps to the blaring alarm of her phone and the view of the Manhattan skyline through the tall glass windows encompassing her. She was somewhat accustomed to the sirens and sounds of the city indicating the dawn of the day ahead of her, yet still, she could not persuade herself to ascend from her dishevelled bed sheets as a result of the dispiriting drip-drop of drizzle on the autumnal horizon. A strong black coffee was calling her name; the figmental, unyielding aroma enamelled the walls of the two-bed apartment, permeating Emily’s nostrils as she longed for caffeine. She grudgingly traipsed her way winding through doorways and

The excitement and chatter of the thousand patrons is evident in the air. Each one dressed fancily in a tuxedo or an expensive dress. A sea breeze brushes the cruise ship, pushing the fresh air into faces of those on the top deck. Nicole adjusts her cat eye spectacles. Her bright yellow top, denim skirt and hot pink shoes attracts attention from those around her. She didn’t care though, today was the day. The Endeavour pulls of Botany Bay majestically, the sun raining down on the ship. The deep sapphire blue water, humongous skyscrapers, picturesque botanic gardens, Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera House is all left behind.

Delphine struggled her way through the throngs of midday shoppers coming out of the QVB which formed a curious counterpoint to the solemnly suited figures that emerged from the limousines and rolls royces. It had been a long time since she had braved the crowds of the CBD. In fact, it had been a long time since she had done anything particularly public or social. She almost wished that she had turned this invitation from her alma mater down, as she had turned down all the others for the past five years. And yet, as she gazed at the picturesque jacaranda trees hanging over the multitude of civilians that gathered outside the Sydney Town Hall, she thought, No I couldn’t miss this. Not even me.

The resultant piece of work which essentially portrays an extremely bright person appears in a manner that is so attractive to the people belonging to the “average class,” which accounts for a larger part of the community. Anyone reading this book gets the direct feeling of the author’s real life. In the initial part of his journal, the author gives the chronology of events surrounding his personal life experience. In this part, the author put forward a lot of insights to his own personality, giving it a picture of a life story that would be appealing to all the different kinds of readers

Throughout the poem, the speaker makes sure to mention all of Richard Cory’s appurtenances of an opulent lifestyle, as well as his good looks, and undeniable

Good morning and thankyou for tuning into The Poet’s Voice. My name is Meg Cuskelly and it’s that time of the week that we all look forward to, here on the show, where we have the privilege to welcome a guest speaker to discuss a poem, poet and period with us. Today, from The Australian National University in Canberra we have Vivienne White, head lecturer in the literature department. Thankyou for joining us Vivienne.

He was the quiet faraway crush of my adult years. Slim stature of a man always dressed in a nice suit, ‘London Fog’ type trench coat, he worked for an architectural firm. I knew this because coincidentally we worked in the same office building. All right, I admit I couldn’t help myself; I had to see what company occupied the floor where he got off from the elevator.