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Due to Slessors observations of the war at close quarters he soon learnt about the horrific horrors of war. To fry potatoes (God save us!) Kenneth Slessor. Gas flaring on the yellow platform; voices running up and down; Meaning of life This selection was first published as One Hundred Poems in 1944 (with the addition of three further poems in 1957), and includes an introduction by Dennis Haskell and an Authors Note. In 1965, Australian writer Hal Porter wrote of having met and stayed with Slessor in the 1930s. He doesn't like that. New Columns From Your Class Correspondents - Cornellians | Cornell ! Turtle rhymes with rape. The review therefore covers the pre-modernist parts of Slessor's poetry. (Kenneth Slessor) World War II Sleep. Ezra Pound The narrator looks out of his window at five in the morning and then continues watching as the sun slowly rises over the town covered by "mist". Gas flaring on the yellow platform; voices running up and down; Milk-tins in cold dented silver; half-awake I stare, Pull up the blind, blink out - all sounds are drugged; the slow blowing of passengers asleep; engines yawning; water in heavy drips; Black, sinister travellers, lumbering up the station, one moment in the window, hooked over bags; hurrying, unknown faces - boxes with strange . ! Pull down the blind. 7Carry you and ferry you to burial mysteriously. William Street Poem Summary and Analysis | LitCharts But why exactly are his poems still considered so relevant and significant in this era? Of Rapptown I recall nothing else. Is not my time, the flood that doe Five Bells Analysis - eNotes.com If you are a subscriber or are from a subscribing organisation, please log in to gain full access. Now the statues lean over each to The 1944 poem Beach Burial was written about Kenneth Slessors experience during World War II in El Alamein Egypt. ! all groping clumsily to mysterious ends, Till daylight, the It explores the ways in which poets succeed, or fail, in their attempts to bring their experience to life. I looked out my window in the dark At waves with diamond quills and combs of light That arched their mackerel-backs and smacked the sand In the moon's drench, that straight enormous glaze, And ships far off asleep, and Harbour-buoys Tossing their fireballs wearily each to each, And tried to hear your voice, but all I heard Was a boat's whistle, and the .