Beth+Posney

=Short Story=

=Justification of Macbeth Monologue= Act 2, Scene 2 (p.g. 45) Lines 24-28, 29-32, 34-36, 38-43, 44-46.

There’s one did laugh in ’s sleep, and one cried. “Murder!” That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them. But they did say their prayers, and addressed them Again to sleep. One cried, “God bless us!” and “Amen” the other, As they had seen me with these hangman’s hands. List'ning their fear I could not say “Amen,” When they did say “God bless us!” But wherefore could not I pronounce “Amen”? I had most need of blessing, and “Amen” Stuck in my throat. Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep” —the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast. Still it cried, “Sleep no more!” to all the house. “Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more."

In the play, this scene is a turning point for Macbeth. He has just committed the first murder which will start him on his unstoppable rampage. It is also one of the last parts of Macbeth's conscience that we see. His inability to say 'Amen' is a way of saying that Macbeth is now doomed and is marked as a murderer forevermore. The repeated line 'Sleep no more!' also does this. It is Macbeth's last moment of weakness that also allows the audience see and predict what is to come.

**Prop Idea**
A Rotten apple
 * Symbolizes the temptation of the hideous life of an evil murderer
 * He would be mentally/subconsciously deciding if he should take that path
 * After the last line, he takes a bite as he has given in to the temptation

=Australians at War - World War One=

//Craterland, 1917 -// Fred Leist
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The painting above is called //Craterland // and was painted in 1917 by the Australian war artist Fred Leist whilst he was at the Western Front as an official war artist for the Australian Imperial Force. Depicted in the picture, is a scene of the battleground at the Western front with soldiers carrying a dead or dying soldier on their shoulders. From my point of view, there are two main perspective of war portrayed in this painting; destruction and heroism ======

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The first idea of destruction is about how the war destroys landscapes, lives and souls. The very name of the image gives the idea of a destroyed place. //Craterland// is referring literally to the destroyed land, land that is dented and scarred by the horrors of war. The fact that the soldiers are reflected in the pool of water represents the land reflecting what has happened to the men. The colours in this painting are monotone. This represents an idea of desolation and isolation. The path in this picture is used as a metaphor for the idea that war is ongoing, endless. This idea is supported by the smoke in the distance; it shows an endless expanse of a war torn land. All of the destruction in the picture is meant to stir guilt and anguish within the viewer. ======

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The dead trees protruding from the ground mimic deathly hands reaching from the grave. They represent the fallen soldiers reaching back for life into a landscape which is essentially lifeless. Leist is trying to blame the viewer for the war by making them connect with the soldiers, but then making them far away so that they cannot be helped. This is done by making the soldiers at eye level and in a wide angle ‘shot’. The viewer makes a connection with the soldiers as they are on the same level. The pool of water at the bottom of the page along with the distance that the soldiers are away from the viewer makes the soldiers feel unreachable. This increases the inner turmoil of the viewer as they are so conflicted and guilty about what is put before their eyes. The entire image is therefore saying: ‘it is your fault that these people are going through such hardship, and now there is nothing you can do about it.’ This idea would very likely stem from Leist’s experiences in creating pro-war propaganda. The contrast between what he was selling and what he actually saw would have created great feeling of anger and perhaps betrayal. Yet, he would also be conflicted as he would have felt guilty for selling war to the soldiers, so in his artwork he would also try and ‘repent’. ======

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The second idea of heroism that is portrayed in this image is quite an obvious idea. Pictured is the fallen soldier who is being carried on the backs of his fellows. This shows that Leist had great respect for the soldiers and the sacrifices they had made. The sign in front of the soldiers is used as a way of representing the soldier’s ongoing spirit and courage. Leist is playing of the idea that a sign on a road or path shows how long until the end of a journey. The fact that the soldiers in the painting would be able to read the text on the sign but the viewer cannot, is a symbol of a soldier’s determination and how even if civilians cannot see an end to the war, a soldier will still believe in and survive off a tangible, although perhaps imagined, end to their pain. However, this idea of heroism combined with the destruction still give the idea that despite their bravery or willingness, the soldiers should not have become soldiers in the first place. ======

Analysis
The picture book //Memorial// by Gary Crew and Shaun Tan is written about a young boy remembering his grandfather speak about the first world war and in particular a tree that their town planted to commemorate it. This book portrays a very anti-war perspective, but also contains the two ideas of the harsh qualities of war and the heroism of the soldiers.

The heroism in this book is also coupled with the idea of blame and lack of forgiveness towards those who did not go to war. On the first page of the book, the old man has medals on his jacket which turn into leaves picturing soldiers who died young. This is putting forth several things. Firstly, by connecting the soldiers to the medals, a symbol of respect and commendation, it saying that all soldiers that fought in the war deserve commendation. Secondly, it is portraying quite hateful feelings towards the reader. It is telling the reader that medals and commendations are as worthless and leaves when people have died. This book is quite hypocritical in this way, it is playing off of the stereotype but and the same time crushing it. Later in the book, the old man says the line ‘I’m remembering that old people forget.’ This line is extremely ironic in its literal meaning and its metaphorical meaning. It is ironic as the entire book is about remembering, this creates slight comedy to get the reader to empathize with the characters in the book. However, once again the book is being hypocritical and is mocking the reader with this line. It is saying that everyone has forgotten about the war and that those who do remember are so ravaged by the war that they cannot remind you.

The second perspective of the harshness of war is one of the most evident this book. The first thing that is noticed it the way that the old man’s face is so wrinkled and strained with mournful blue eyes. Later, the texture of the tree mimics the texture of this man’s face. This is to remind people that the man is so connected to the tree and therefore the war. It is therefore also saying that all those that were in the war will have a constant connection to the war; it is a permanent part of them. In a later page, there is scene of warm summer grass and smiling children. However, this scene is literally overshadowed by a rusted and battered iron grating. This is reinforcing the idea that the war is still ruling his life and this although he is battered and old, he still cannot escape from his own prison. Textural elements are constantly used in this book. In certain places, the texture is very soft and inviting, whereas there is also the constant repetition of cracked and harshness to the elements of the picture. This means that the reader would constantly have the idea of roughness and harshness always being constant despite any warmth that the physical surrounding can bring.

//The Music Of the Guns, 1915// - F. E. Westbrook
When the summer is falling into twilights fading light And the guns are booming everywhere around, In the raucous voices shouting proud defiance to the night, We can feel a store of comfort in their sound In their smashing crashing rattle we are fighting freedoms battle And we are out to win as empires loyal sons In their belching fiery breath there is red and sudden death To her enemies out there before our guns. When the slopes and hills are gleaming in the flares from trench to trench When rifles crackle like a wood alight The clouds of fumes come rolling with burning powders stench And the flashes show in lines across the night Every shot that goes a- flashing through the lead-torn night a-crashing Is an effort to an ultimate result Every cartridge we expend is one less toward the end Of the menace of the vile Teutonic Kult Of the foul man-killing terrors and the ripping shot and shell Cannot break the moral spirit of the ranks For amid the awful chaos when they loose the bars of hell They're as calm as if the foe were firing blanks. All the hail of high explosive and the awful gas corrosive Any terror that the Teuton can invent Cannot daunt us in the fight; through the curtain of the hight We can hear out guns, and hearing rest content. There is a music in their booming when they're sending blow for blow In the whistling of the shells upon the way That will burst in flame and fury on the hidden distant foe, and we glory in their firing night and day. And if I must pass in battle, let it be amid their rattle, One of Austral's humble freedom-loving sons, Happy, thus thrice happy I, quite content if need be die In the rhythmic music of Australia's guns.

Analysis
The poem //‘The Music of the Guns’// by F.E. Westbrook was most likely written in 1915 during his time in the wars but was published in his book of poetry in 1916. I can identify two main perspectives on war in this piece. The first is an extreme patriotism and allegiance to the war effort, second is that war itself is a destructor of the human mind and sanity.

The extreme patriotism that is portrayed in this poem is first and foremost portrayed using the rhythm of the poem. This poem has a very distinct flow and beauty to it. It follows a strict rhyming scheme of ‘A, B, A, B, CC, E, DD, E’. By the double letter I mean that there are two words that rhyme on certain lines. This scheme is used 4 times throughout the poem. The poem also follows a less strict syllable pattern. Every second line in the poem has 11 syllables bar one exception. However, I think that this could be a mistake in the notation of the poem as the rhyming is so well controlled. Unfortunately I was unable to check this as this was the only complete copy of the poem I was able to find. Despite this, the poem still has a magnificent and beautiful flow of words that does two things. Firstly, the fact that this is a war poem and it is portrayed with such beauty displays this extreme patriotism that I mentioned earlier. Secondly, it causes the reader to feel a sort of admiration for the soldiers in the war as the rhythm causes a feeling of tension which amounts in a courageous and spectacular climax. The way that this climax combines with the harsh and violent vocabulary gives the impression of a love for the danger and thrills of war. This therefore shows a great pride in the fight and extreme patriotism for the country.

This poem is quite terrifying. Westbrook portrays a very sinister and evil side of war which is an absolute contrast to the other perspective he portrays. He uses this poem as a way to show the audience how war and violence will not only kill men, but destroy the minds of those who survive. The main way in which he does this is the shocking choice of words. He uses ridiculously playful language which he strategically places with violent words or in climatic and interesting places in the poem that creates the image of someone who has gone insane. For example, the in the line ‘ Every shot that goes a- flashing through the lead-torn night a-crashing ’, the two words that rhyme are made quite playful by adding the ‘a-‘. The line they are in is very violent and by putting them there, Westbrook has made the line seem not threatening, but full of tension and mockery. The constant repetition of this playful and well placed vocabulary makes it quite a terrifying poem to read as you truly feel as if you are going insane. However, the question that must be asked; was this insanity intentional, or did the war really turn Westbrook insane?

=Creative Piece=

__Fading __ A flash of white streaked across the gap in the bushes on the far side of the clearing. Every time I looked away, I would hear dashing through the undergrowth behind me, but when I looked back it was gone again. Not this time. I knew exactly where it was and I knew that it had only one way to go. I silently and swiftly crept around the edge of the clearing, just covered by the forest. It had rained the night before so the ground was damp; it felt soft beneath my feet and mud oozed between my toes. I saw the flash again, in exactly the place I knew it would be. Its burrow was in the middle of the clearing, it would eventually have to brave the open and expose itself to reach safety. All I had to do now was wait; wait for it to make the mistake that it couldn’t afford not to make.

I remember hunting with papa in this very clearing 5 odd years ago. If I made a sound or showed any part of me, he would shoot at the spot. I knew he would never actually hit me, and the arrows he used were not strong enough to cause any real damage, despite him telling me otherwise. Though, there was always a part of me that wondered that if I pushed him too far, if I made to many mistakes, would he aim for my throat. I always saw this image vividly of my neck pouring with blood and hear his voice ringing out through the trees while I slowly faded away.

The rabbit ran out of hiding and stopped 2 metres from the edge of the clearing. It raised its ears and stayed as still as it could, but I could see its chest heave as it tried to draw in as much air as its tiny lungs would let it. My fingers tensed around the bowstring and dug my elbow into the tree trunk to keep my arrow steady. For no matter how many times papa would tell me that they’re animals and we are the dominant ones, I could never seem to keep my hands steady from aim to release. A lifetime of lying on the living floor, staring at the stars through branches; papa couldn’t understand. So, I would always miss.

Not this time. I dug my elbow deeper into the tree, I felt the sting of the bark cutting into my flesh, but I dug deeper still. The tiny creature’s neck was just above the tip of my arrow. It was still watching and listening for any sign of danger. I pulled back on the bow, slowing my breathing as I did so. And then, release.

The last time father took me hunting, he brought his real bow. He had real arrows and he told me that I was to watch him and copy. He said that I should always do what he did. In his old town, he was the best hunter around and he said that he could kill a moose with one bullet. I didn’t believe him, but he was still a good hunter. We saw two deer by a stream and he told me that the left one was mine. I was about to shoot when I lost my balance and the noise of my fall scared the deer away. My arrow released and I cut my leg from the knee to the ankle. The scar still shines brightly against my olive skin. Father was furious, but he still helped me up and carried my back to the house. The next day, he was gone.

I had hit it. All at once, the tension in my body released and I slumped against the tree. The moss covered bark cooled my face and I breathed in its calming aroma. I was at ease, until out of the corner of my eye, I saw a twitch. I dropped my bow and ran to the creature; the pain in my elbow was getting worse. The grass surrounding the rabbit was drenched in crimson as its legs made one final protesting kick. Tears blurred my vision as the animal before me faded away in a pool of its own blood.