Owen’s “Mental Cases”

Michelle DowMarcia Kishida

IB English SL (days 2/4)Ms. Zeiler

Wilfred Owen

• British soldier in WWI– suffered from “shell shock” (post traumatic

stress disorder)

• Craiglockhart War Hospital

• Wrote poetry as a way to heal

Song and Picture

• Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata of 1801

• Solemn, slow pace, creates image of someone wondering around and lost his mind

• Gradually build up the painful atmosphere

• happier melodies, but only for short period - contrast feeling that emphasize sadness.

• Audience sad, painful

• Taken by Official War Photographer at an Australian Advanced Dressing Station near Ypres in 1917

• “thousand-yard” stare which Owen describes in imagery

• Disturbing tone, atmosphere

Definitions

• (l. 2) Purgatorial: removing or purging sin

• (l.13) Sloughs: muddy, swampy area

• (l.18) Rucked: to make a fold in; crease

• (l. 26) Knouts: used for flogging

• (l. 26) Scourging: whip or lash, esp. for the infliction of punishment

Title: Mental Cases

• Medical cases in which the damage is in the mind

• Madness

Focus Statement

Owen conveys the theme of the mental toll onsoldiers from the horrors of war, lasts foreverleading to a state of madness, and also the guilt ofthose who look on by using:• figurative language, including implied metaphors

and similes which also creates imagery• a guilty tone created by diction, sound devices,

and voice• Syntax, such as grammatical errors, questions

and hyphens to emphasize key lines.

Figurative Language:

• Implied Metaphors

• Similes

• Imagery

Implied MetaphorsImplied Metaphors• (l. 2) “Wherefore rock they, purgatorial

shadows,”

• (l.6) “…Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?”

• (l.13-14) “Wading sloughs of flesh…Treading blood from lungs…”

SimilesSimiles

• (l.4) “Baring teeth that leer like skulls’ tongues wicked?”

• (l. 22) “Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh”

BodyBody ImageryImageryWho are these? Why sit they here in twilight?Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,Baring teeth that leer like skulls' tongues wicked?Stroke on stroke of pain, — but what slow panic,Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?Ever from their hair and through their hand palmsMisery swelters. Surely we have perishedSleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?— These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.Memory fingers in their hair of murders,Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.Always they must see these things and hear them,Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,Carnage incomparable and human squanderRucked too thick for these men's extrication.Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormentedBack into their brains, because on their senseSunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh— Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.— Thus their hands are plucking at each other;Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;Snatching after us who smote them, brother,Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.

• scattered throughout poem, like dismembered limbs

• gory/graphic => realities the soldiers faced

• disturbing atmosphere

• repetition of blood => feeling of being surrounded by blood

Light/Dark ImageryLight/Dark Imagery

• (l. 1) “Why sit they here in twilight”

• (l. 2) “… purgatorial shadows,”

• (l. 21-22) “Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black; Dawn breaks open like a wound…”

Tone

-Diction

-Sound devices

-Voice

DictionDictionWho are these? Why sit they here in twilight?Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,Baring teeth that leer like skulls' tongues wicked?Stroke on stroke of pain, — but what slow panic,Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?Ever from their hair and through their hand palmsMisery swelters. Surely we have perishedSleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?— These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.Memory fingers in their hair of murders,Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.Always they must see these things and hear them,Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,Carnage incomparable and human squanderRucked too thick for these men's extrication.Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormentedBack into their brains, because on their senseSunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh— Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.— Thus their hands are plucking at each other;Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;Snatching after us who smote them, brother,Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.

• Punishment/penance, show suffering of soldiers and guilt of onlookers

• Oxymorons, unnatural state of soldiers

Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,Baring teeth that leer like skulls' tongues wicked?Stroke on stroke of pain, — but what slow panic,Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?Ever from their hair and through their hand palmsMisery swelters. Surely we have perishedSleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?— These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.Memory fingers in their hair of murders,Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.Always they must see these things and hear them,Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,Carnage incomparable and human squanderRucked too thick for these men's extrication.Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormentedBack into their brains, because on their senseSunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood black;Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh— Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.— Thus their hands are plucking at each other;Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;Snatching after us who smote them, brother,Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.

AlliterationAlliteration

Link contrasting words togethersmooth => sorrowful tone, not angry

Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,Baring teeth that leer like skulls' tongues wicked?Stroke on stroke of pain, — but what slow panic,Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?Ever from their hair and through their hand palmsMisery swelters. Surely we have perishedSleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?— These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.Memory fingers in their hair of murders,Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.Always they must see these things and hear them,Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,Carnage incomparable and human squanderRucked too thick for these men's extrication.Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormentedBack into their brains, because on their senseSunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh— Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.— Thus their hands are plucking at each other;Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;Snatching after us who smote them, brother,Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.

AssonanceAssonance

smooth => sorrowful tone, not angry

ConsonanceConsonance

harsher, for more traumatic subjects

DisonanceDisonance

Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,Baring teeth that leer like skulls' tongues wicked?Stroke on stroke of pain, — but what slow panic,Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?Ever from their hair and through their hand palmsMisery swelters. Surely we have perishedSleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?— These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.Memory fingers in their hair of murders,Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.Always they must see these things and hear them,Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,Carnage incomparable and human squanderRucked too thick for these men's extrication.Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormentedBack into their brains, because on their senseSunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh— Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.— Thus their hands are plucking at each other;Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;Snatching after us who smote them, brother,Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.

VoiceVoice

• (l. 27-28) “Snatching after us who smote them, brother, pawing us who dealt them war and madness”– Clear distinction btw. reader & speaker vs.

soldiers (us vs. them)– not accusatory, not YOU who has smote them– still uses “these” not “those” to bring soldiers

closer

Syntax

-Grammatical Errors

-Hyphens

-Questions

Grammatical Grammatical ErrorsErrors

Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,Baring teeth that leer like skulls' tongues wicked?Stroke on stroke of pain, — but what slow panic,Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?Ever from their hair and through their hand palmsMisery swelters. Surely we have perishedSleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?- These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.Memory fingers in their hair of murders,Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.Always they must see these things and hear them,Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,Carnage incomparable and human squanderRucked too thick for these men's extrication.Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormentedBack into their brains, because on their senseSunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh— Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.— Thus their hands are plucking at each other;Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;Snatching after us who smote them, brother,Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.

• creates feeling something is wrong

• makes reader stop and think

• emphasize lines

QuestionsQuestionsWho are these? Why sit they here in twilight?Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,Baring teeth that leer like skulls' tongues wicked?Stroke on stroke of pain, — but what slow panic,Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?Ever from their hair and through their hand palmsMisery swelters. Surely we have perishedSleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?— These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.Memory fingers in their hair of murders,Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.Always they must see these things and hear them,Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,Carnage incomparable and human squanderRucked too thick for these men's extrication.Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormentedBack into their brains, because on their senseSunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh— Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.— Thus their hands are plucking at each other;Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;Snatching after us who smote them, brother,Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.

• Brings audience in, makes them think when questions are directly posed

HyphensHyphensWho are these? Why sit they here in twilight?Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,Baring teeth that leer like skulls' tongues wicked?Stroke on stroke of pain, — but what slow panic,Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?Ever from their hair and through their hand palmsMisery swelters. Surely we have perishedSleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?— These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.Memory fingers in their hair of murders,Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.Always they must see these things and hear them,Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,Carnage incomparable and human squanderRucked too thick for these men's extrication.Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormentedBack into their brains, because on their senseSunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh— Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.— Thus their hands are plucking at each other;Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;Snatching after us who smote them, brother,Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.

• breaks pace => brings attention to following sentence

• answers questions posed

Linking to Other Poems

• Dissimilar to “Dulce et Decorum Est”– (l. 25-26) “My friend, you would not tell with

such high zest to children…the old Lie…”• No bitter, sarcastic tone

• Similar to “Strange Meeting” – (l. 39) “Foreheads of men have bled where no

wounds were.”• Continual mental suffering