The Railway free essay sample

Clerk’, a man expresses his feelings about his life and work. | |Write about both poems and their effect on you. Show how they are similar and how they are different. | |You may write about each poem separately and then compare them, or make comparisons where appropriate in your answer as a whole. |You may wish to include some or all of these points: | |†¢ the content of the poems – what they are about; | |†¢ the ideas the poets may have wanted us to think about; | |†¢ the mood or atmosphere of the poems; | |†¢ how they are written – words and phrases you find interesting, the way they are organised, and so on; | |†¢ your responses to the poems. 20] | | | | |The railway modeller |The Railway Clerk | | | | |He’s spent all week creating the best part |It isn’t my fault. | |of a village; sculpting the paper strata |I do what I’m told | |of its hills, painting them green, growing |But still I am blamed. |small metal trees with a teased-out fluff |This year, my leave application | |of foliage. Then he built half-timbered |Was twice refused. | |card houses, secured them where they belonged |Every day there is so much work | |and stood back to be sure it was right. |And I don’t get overtime. | | |My wife is always asking for more money. | |Now he must add the people: so minute, |Money, money, where to get money? | |they take more work than anything. He uses |My job is such, no one is giving bribe, | |a make-up brush tapered to a hair |While other clerks are in fortunate position, | |for touching their white plastic into life |and no promotion even because I am not graduate. | |with flesh-tones, bright splashes, uniform | | |blue and grey†¦. It takes hours to make |I wish I was bird. |an individual, if it’s done with love, | | | |I am never neglecting my responsibility, | |but he doesn’t mind the time spent |I am discharging it properly, | |in his shed, a sufficient universe, |I am doing my duty, | |and nothing brings a branch line alive |But who is appreciating/ | |like people. Working down on the track, | Nobody, I am telling you. |picks raised, or waiting on a paper bench | | |for a train they can’t board, they turn |My desk is too small, | |the scene to a frozen photograph. |the fan is not repaired for two months, | | |three months. | |It’s a shame he can’t, with all his love, |I am living far off in Borivali, | |move the frame on†¦. The background radio |My children are neglecting studies, | |intrudes news headlines into his thought: |How long this can go on? |today in Parliament the talking fellows | | |were voting on whether to punish men |Nissam Ezekial | |with death. His brush carefully strokes in | | |blond hair; perfects another passenger. | | | | | |Sheenagh Pugh | | SECTION B | | | |Spend about 1 hour on this section. Think carefully about the poems before you write your answer. | |In the first of the following poems, ‘Looking into the Filed’, the narrator describes a moment in the life of a farmer. In the second, ‘Hatching’, the narrator| |describes a moment of birth. | |Write about both poems and their effect on you. Show how they are similar and how they are different. | |You may write about each poem separately and then compare them, or make comparisons where appropriate in your answer as a whole. |You may wish to include some or all of these points: | |†¢ the content of the poems – what they are about; | |†¢ the ideas the poets may have wanted us to think about; | |†¢ the mood or atmosphere of the poems; | |†¢ how they are written – words and phrases you find interesting, the way they are organised, and so on; | |†¢ your responses to the poems. 20] | | | | | | | | | | |Looking into the Field |Hatching | | | | |From the five corn ers of the field |His night has come to an end and now he must break | |they lift their heads and move towards him. |The little sky which shielded him. He taps | |This is the man who brings food. |Once and nothing happens. He tries again | |His collie presses against the window |And makes a mark like lightning. He must thunder, | |of the Land Rover and leaves a nose-round watermark. |Storm and shake and break a universe | |He walks to the four stiff legs of a dead sheep |Too small and safe. His daring beak does this. | |and bends to grasp fistfuls of tight wool. | | |Lifting from his knees he pulls and rolls |And now he is out in a world of smells and spaces. | |the ewe upright, setting the legs kicking again. |He shivers. Any air is wind to him. | |Tubful of life, she bleats and waddles to new grass. |He huddles under wings but does not know | |The field has been put to rights and as he walks back |He is already shaping feathers for | |his flock return to their grass and the first autumn leaves. |A lunge into the sky. His solo flight | |Four disappointed crows flap into the sky she’d |Will bring the sun upon his back. He’ll bear it, | |stared up through like a cloudy blue tunnel. Carry it, learn the real winds, by instinct | | |Return for food and, larger than his mother, | |Tony Curtis |Avid for air, harry her with his hunger. | | | | | |Elizabeth Jennings | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |SECTION B | |Spend about 1 hour on this section. Think carefully about the poems before you write your answer. | |In the first of the following poems, ‘The Moth’s Plea’, the moth expresses its feelings about its life and identity. In the second, ‘Weaselsà ¢â‚¬â„¢, the | |narrator describes and expresses his feelings about weasels. | |Write about both poems and their effect on you. Show how they are similar and how they are different. | | You may write about each poem separately and then compare them, or make comparisons where appropriate in your answer as a whole. |You may wish to include some or all of these points: | |†¢ the content of the poems – what they are about; | |†¢ the ideas the poets may have wanted us to think about; | |†¢ the mood or atmosphere of the poems; | |†¢ how they are written – words and phrases you find interesting, the way they are organised, and so on; | |†¢ your responses to the poems. 20] | | |Weasels | |The Moth’s Plea | | | |They are only scrap for a furrier | |I am a disappointment |Or trimming for a lady’s wrap. | |And much worse. |But before they end on a heap | |You hear a flutter, you expect a brilliance of wings, |They are awful in the fields and streams. | |Colours dancing, a bright |Red-brown and nine inches long. |Flutter, but then you see |They eat mice and moles and frogs; | |A brown, bedraggled creature |Rooks, crows and ow ls are nothing to them. | | With a shamefaced, unclean look |Weasels will get through a bush or hedge | |Darting upon your curtains and clothes, |For thrush and blackbird eggs | |Fighting against the light. |And swim a mile when they sniff dead fish. | |I hate myself. It’s no wonder you hate me. | | |My granddad saw one | |I meddle among your things, |Wipe out a granary of rats | |I make a meal out of almost any cloth, |And then look around to see | |I hide in cupboards and scare |If he had missed any | |Any who catch me unaware. |Before he enjoyed his huge supper. | |I am your enemy – the moth. Once, in America, a hawk was found | | |With a weasel’s skull locked to its throat. | |You try to keep me away |Even when chased by a fox | |But I’m wily and when I do |They may stop to kill a chicken. | |Manage to hide, you chase me, beat me, put |Weasels like rabbits, too | |Horrible-smelling balls to poison me. |And go deep into the dark burrows. |Have you ever thought what it’s like to be |In Carmarthen they have hunted in packs | |A parasite, |Scampering behind the poor scared hares | |Someone who gives you a fright, |Lolloping in the moonlight. | |Who envies the rainbow colours of the bright |They will also attack a man | |Butterflies who hover round flowers all day? |If trapped – single and alone | |Oh please believe that I do understand how it feels |They jump for the neck. | |To be awake in and be afraid of the night. | | |Weasels will live anywhere smelly | |Elizabeth Jennings |Inside a maggoty sheep carcase | | |Or a rotted tree-stump, | | |A crumbled wall crevice or a fish hole | | |In the riverbank. Their innocent babies | | |Nest tight at the back of the holes. | | | | | |John Tripp |