Hello everybody and welcome to this video where I'm going to analyse the poem “Poppies’
by Jane Weir.
So, as always, we start with the poet, and we're looking at details from the poet's life
that help us to understand the poem itself.
This is Jane Weir. She was born in 1963; grew up in Italy and England; lived in Northern
Ireland during the 1980s, so experienced some of the troubles there; and is a textile designer
as well as a poet, and that's very important for this poem because there's a lot of imagery
related to textiles and that helps us understand where it comes from. That's the same with
all of Jane Weir’s poetry.
Nice quotation about her as a poet – ‘The principal motive is language itself, its mutability
in representing both the abstract or the real’. And I think that's a great quotation from
a critic which really does capture what is so nice about Jane Weir's poetry is the use
of language and how it has two different sides to it. It can be both very domestic and sort
of ordinary but also filled with a deeper meaning which is exactly what we see in this
poem.
A little bit about the context of the poem. It comes from a collection which Carol Ann
Duffy put together in 2009 called ‘Exit Wounds’, and this was all about war. As
a way of trying to understand the suffering that war causes, Carol Ann Duffy asked a number
of writers – ten in total – to write poems, and that included Jane Weir.
Ann Duffy said, ‘Today, as most of us do, poets largely experience war – wherever
it rages – through emails or texts from friends or colleagues in war zones, through
radio or newsprint or television, through blogs or tweets or interviews. With the official
inquiry into Iraq imminent and the war in Afghanistan returning dead teenagers to the
streets of Wootton Bassett, I invited a range of my fellow poets to bear witness, each in
their own way, to these matters of war.’ So, that's about the context.
Now, Jane Weir herself said: ‘I wrote the piece from a woman's perspective, which is
quite rare… as the mother of two teenage boys I tried to put across how I might feel
if they were fighting in a war zone. I wanted to write a poem from the point of view of
a mother and her relationship with her son, a child who was loved, cherished, and protected…
and it had led to this… heightened and absolute fear that parents experienced in letting their
children go, the anxiety and, ultimately, the pain of loss… I hoped to somehow channel
all this, convey it into something concise and contemporary, but also historically classic,
in terms of universal experience.’
So, the historical context that we need to understand then. ‘Poppies’, what do we
mean by poppies? Well, Armistice Sunday began as a way of marking the end of the First World
War in 1918, and it was set up so people could remember the hundreds and thousands of ordinary
men who'd been killed in the First World War. Today, the event is used to remember soldiers
of all wars who have died since then.
Now, in terms of the poem, there are different views about the plot of this poem. But, as
I've said in lots of videos, it really doesn't matter exactly nailing it down to perfect
detail about what is going on in the storyline of the poem. We don't actually want to analyse
what's going on. We want to analyse how the poet uses language, structure, and form to
create meaning.
So, don't worry too much about whether this is a poem about… Well, I'll give a few ideas
later, but the actual story line of the poem isn't important.
Let's have a quick look at the poem itself.
So, I'll give you a literal translation just to put it into simple language for you.
Three days before Armistice Sunday and poppies had already been placed
on individual war graves. Before you left, I pinned one onto your lapel, crimped petals,
spasms of paper red, disrupting a blockade of yellow bias binding around your blazer.
So this is saying, ‘three days before Remembrance Day people had already placed poppies on the
graves of soldiers who had died in the war, and, before you left, I pinned one onto your
blazer.’ She's speaking to her son here. Sellotape bandaged around my hand,
I rounded up as many white cat hairs as I could, smoothed down your shirt’s
upturned collar, steeled the softening of my face. I wanted to graze my nose
across the tip of your nose, play at being Eskimos like we did when
you were little. I resisted the impulse to run my fingers through the gelled
blackthorn of your hair. All my words flattened, rolled, turned into felt,
So, a very domestic image – that thing where you wrap Sellotape around your hand and, then,
tap it on your clothes. ‘I used Sellotape to pull off the cat hairs on your clothes.
I smoothed down your collar, and I tried not to look upset. I wanted to Eskimo-kiss you
like when you were little, and I had to hold back from running my hands through your hair.
All my words disappearing.’ slowly melting. I was brave, as I walked
with you, to the front door, threw it open, the world overflowing
like a treasure chest. A split second and you were away, intoxicated.
After you'd gone I went into your bedroom, released a song bird from its cage.
Later a single dove flew from the pear tree, and this is where it has led me,
skirting the church yard walls, my stomach busy
making tucks, darts, pleats, hat-less, without a winter coat or reinforcements of scarf,
gloves. So, ‘I was brave as I walked with you to
the front door. I threw open the front door. The world was overflowing like a treasure
chest. You were excited and, a split-second later, you were gone. And when you'd gone,
I went into your bedroom…’ Now, I think the ‘released a song bird from its cage’
means that she just cried and screamed out, but we don't exactly know. ‘…and, then,
I followed a bird to the church yard, anxious.
On reaching the top of the hill I traced the inscriptions on the War Memorial,
leaned against it like a wishbone. The dove pulled freely against the sky,
an ornamental stitch. I listened, hoping to hear
your playground voice catching on the wind. So, ‘at the top of the hill, I ran my hand
over the War Memorial. I leaned on it. And I listened, hoping to hear your voice.’
Now, as I've said, there's some ambiguity – Is the son dead? Is he at war? Was this
a childhood memory of sending her son off to school? Or is it a memory of sending him
off to become a soldier or join the Armed Forces?
But, in many ways it doesn't matter. We don't want to get caught up in trying to work out
the plot. It doesn't help us. What matters is what the poem tells us about power and
conflict, the whole cluster. And I think, in terms of a power and conflict poem, we
could say that it looks at the pain and suffering of those left behind. The domestic conflict
caused by national conflict, like ‘Kamikaze’; the impact of war on those at home as well
as on those go into war, like ‘War Photographer’.
So it's still about the impact of conflict, but it's giving a voice to those left behind.
In this case, the mother.
Okay. Let's analyse language, structure, form. To begin with the form, this is a dramatic
monologue. Weir is writing in character. She's not writing about her own personal experience.
And she is addressing a silent listener – the ‘you’, the son, the soldier.
So, a dramatic monologue is a form of poetry where the poet takes on the persona of a character
speaking to somebody else – direct address of the word ‘you’ – but we never hear
from the person being spoken to. Their voice is silent.
So, why use a dramatic monologue form? Why don't we hear anything from the son? Well,
a number of ideas, and you can add your own as well, but it does emphasise how this poem
is about the pain caused for the often ignored mother.
So we're actually saying, “Look, all of this thing about war, we’re not even going
to consider the soldier for a second. We're thinking about those left behind.” And that's
represented through the dramatic monologue form which doesn't consider the soldier.
Also, of course, it emphasises how he's not there. The fact that we don't hear his voice
is because he's not there. He's either off at war or, perhaps, in some interpretations,
he's died.
What about the structure? A number of things take place with the structure that I think
are worth analysing. And as I've been doing recently with the poems, there are some kind
of generic overarching points which we see throughout the poem and, then, we'll look
at some specifics.
So, the poem is written in free verse. There's no sort of organised rhyme scheme or structure
to the poem. And it's also got stanzas of totally different lengths which, again, is
this kind of chaotic structure. There's enjambment, where the sentences flow on to the next line
and even the next stanza. And there's a lot of caesura, where punctuation within the line
makes the reader stop and pause.
These are all techniques you should be familiar with if you've watched the other poetry analysis
videos which are all in my playlist, so make sure you check them out.
So what can we say about this? Well, I think all of these combine for a chaotic structure.
It's really not ordered or controlled. And that reflects the chaotic impact of conflict
on those at home. Their life is chaos. It lacks control or organisation because they
are completely absorbed with the terrifying thoughts about those loved ones who are serving
in war.
A couple of specific points – I think the enjambment here between stanzas where it says,
“…all my words flattened, rolled, turned into felt, slowly melting.” So, this sentence
continues not only on to the next line, but a whole new stanza. What can we say about
that?
Well, Jane Weir herself said that if one is to grieve, one has to, at some point, let
it dissolve. And the structure here breaks, and I think the break in structure reflects
how the mother is breaking emotionally. And it's emphasised through a stanza break within
a sentence – the enjambment – because it's reflecting the breaking emotions of the
mother.
Now, one of the things that's really interesting here – to do with the language – is the
use of domestic language. And there’s a great quotation from Jane Weir, before we
jump into the examples of language, where she said, ‘Appropriating and applying the
language of the too often condemned domestic front is, I suppose, a political act.’
And I think what is absolutely fascinating about Weir's use of language – and it comes
back to the critic’s quote at the beginning – is the way that she uses very domestic,
everyday, ordinary imagery but infuses in it the rich metaphor and simile and imagery
of war and suffering to suggest just how those left behind at home in civilian life feel.
So, I'm going to go through a number of images which can be seen in two ways, both domestic
and military. And this constant and overwhelming use of this kind of image is, in itself, a
structural point about how overwhelming the feelings of dread are for the mother.
I'm just going to explore a few. You can put comments in the comment section about some
of the others because what we don't want to do in the exam is make a point and, then,
make the same point again and, then, make the same point again.
So, any of these serve as a really good example. So, first off, talking about the son's yellow
blazer, when I google image search ‘yellow blazer’, every image was of a woman wearing
one. So, it took me a while to find one. But we have this description of ‘spasms of paper
red, disrupting a blockade of yellow bias’.
Now, what's happening here in the literal terms is the son has got a yellow lapel on
his blazer, and the mum is pinning a poppy on it. But the use of the word ‘spasm’,
of course, is a word of injury and makes us think about pain and suffering. And ‘blockade’
is a war-related word. It means to isolate or close off a place, and it's being closed
off by hostile troops to prevent entrance or exit. That's what a blockade is. It's a
war word.
So we have the blending of a very domestic image with a war image, which reflects how
the mother is seeing all of these ideas of suffering in everyday life. The ideas of conflict
are overwhelming her.
The next one is ‘Sellotape bandaged around my hand’. Have you ever done this – when
you've got dog hair on your fluff, you just wrap Sellotape around your hand and, then,
you tap yourself, and it gets it off? So, all she's doing, in literal terms, is defluffing
his clothes. But, of course, the word ‘bandaged’ is a word that we would relate to suffering
and wound and, perhaps, a wounded soldier comes to mind.
‘Graze my nose - what she actually wants to do is to kiss him by rubbing her nose up
against his – the Eskimo kiss. But of course, like ‘bandaged’, the word ‘graze’
is a word of suffering and conflict.
‘Reinforcements of scarf, gloves’ – These are just clothes to keep warm but described
with the military word of ‘reinforcements’, extra troops being sent.
And even the dove which seems like a very positive image, there are two interpretations
of a dove. It is a symbol of peace, but it's also a symbol of mourning. So we have, again
the conflicting emotions.
Now, I'm whizzing through these because I want to make the overall point, which is,
that the constant blending of domestic and military language shows how this suffering
of her son or the idea of her son in the conflict zone is constantly on the speaker's mind.
It's in everything she sees and does. And that's quite interesting because this poem
forces us to think about the impact of conflict on those who aren't even there.
And here's another image, ‘I was brave’. This challenges our preconceived ideas about
conflict. It makes us think of how we would expect this to be said by the soldier. But
the mother is saying it. And it hammers home the point that war has a huge impact on those
left at home in the civilian sphere.
There is one moment where the mother retells the story from the son's perspective. Doesn't
use his voice, but gives us an image of what he's thinking. ‘…the world overflowing
like a treasure chest’ is a simile, and it shows the son’s sense of excitement at
leaving home. Perhaps, a childish image as well, which suggests he doesn't have realistic
expectations. When she, then, describes him as intoxicated, it suggests that, perhaps,
he's not making a measured and controlled decision, but he’s got sort of caught up
in the excitement of everything.
So what is this poem saying? Well, conflict is not just experienced by those at war, in
literal conflict zones. It's also experienced by those at home in the civilian world, and
we see a taste of that in ‘Kamikaze’ and ‘War Photographer’ as well.
Please do subscribe to the channel if you haven't done so already, and do watch the
other videos in the playlist.