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    CONTENTS Smt heunda SHORT STORIE: | No. Title 1 | Cinderella Girl ~Naukar a 9 Harrison Bergeron ee 4 ‘The Landlady 2 | Neighbours - 29 Guidetines for Analysing a Short Story | 36 Guidelines for Analysing a Poem | s9 CINDERELLA GIRL Vivien Alcock Bella Jones didn't like Meg Hunter one little bit. She was too rough, too noisy and too grubby. 400 unhdy ‘Ts not only the way she crashes about, knocking things over,’ she said. ‘It’s everything about ber. She always looks such a fright. That great bush sf hai, I bet she never combs it. ‘And her face is often dirty. As for her clothes! She came to school yesterday with those horrible green trousers of hers done up with safety pins, did you notice? She just doesn't ‘care what she looks like. She's an utter mess, Te was true. Edward had to admit it. Yet there was something he liked aboux Meg, a sort of warm glow, a friendliness. Bhe laughed a lot. The smaller kids loved her. ‘Meg was young for her age, that was the trouble, a big untidy girl with shaggy brown hair, like an overgrown puppy. She still climbed the trees on the common and rolled down the steep grass bank as he had done when he was a kid. He even saw her playing football with the boys from their old primary school, and had been tempted for a moment to join in, But the ground was wet and muddy, and he was wearing his new trousers. Also his mother was with him. His mother liked people to look nice. ‘It only takes a little effort to look clean and tidy’ she was fond of telling Edward, ‘and it makes all the difference to what people think of you, Always remember that, Edward.” He knew she didn't approve of Meg. She never said So outright, but he could tell, Her plucked eyebrows always rose when she saw her, and she'd shake her head. as if to say, ‘Well, really!" "Isn't that Meg Hunter over there, playing football with those boys” she'd asked ‘Covered in mud, poor girl. Just look at her! It’s odd because her mother is really very nice. ‘you know, And the two older girls are alway’ beautifully dressed. You'd never take them for the same family. I wonder Mrs Hunter lets Meg go around looking like that.” "She's Meg’ 1 rdf” stepmother, Edward told her. not always easy being a stepmother, his mother said, ‘imagine Meg can be quite \ Cinderella girl, Edward thought, Poor Meg. nobody cares what she looks like, Perhaps her stepmother grudges every penny she has to spend on her, and won't buy her new clothes or even a hairbrush, so that she has to use safety pins when her zips break and comb her hair with her fingers, ‘She's in your class, isn’t she?" his mother asked. "Yes “Ty she clever? “1.don't know,’ Edward said. ‘Tve never noticed.’ His mother laughed. I don't suppose you have.’ she said. boys look at.” not the sort of git} His mother didn't know everything, however. Edward did look at Me; quite often, He wasn't certain why. She was plump and her clothes never seemed to fit her and she had big feet. On Sundays, however, when they met by chance in the park, they'd stay together, talking or watching their local team play football. He always looked forward to seeing her. But it was Bella he really wanted to date. Pretty, popular Bella whom a lot of boys claimed would let you kiss her in the cinema or in the bushes behind the cycle shed. He had never kissed a gil, not properly, and was beginning to fee! left out. Of course they might be only boasting. “Have you ever kissed a gi!” he asked his best friend Michael, who was tall and skinny and clever, and could be trusted not to betray him, “Of course I have! Millions of times. Can't get away from them,’ Michael told him. “They swarm over me every Christmas. Mum's only got to put up a bit of mistletoe and I have to hide to avoid being trampled on.’ ‘No, seriously, have you?” "My lips are sealed,’ Michael said grandly. I'm not one to kiss and tell’ ‘Ym not asking for names. Just a straight answer, yes or no.’ "No. What about you?” 'No,’ Edward admitted, ‘but don't tell anybody.’ Michael laughed. ‘Don't sound so sad. We're still young. Far too young, my mum ‘would say. Do you want to kiss just any girl, or one in particular?” ‘Twant to kiss Bella Jones.” ‘Lwant to kiss Bella J peer pressure ‘Oh, her! I might've guessed. You always want to do what other people do,’ Michael He was not one of Bella's admirers. "Well, why don't you?” sali He made it sound easy. Full of hope. Edward had asked Bella to come to see a film with him. "No, I don't think so,’ she said. "Why not? he asked. I thought you liked me.’ "Whatever gave you that idea? she said. ‘Oh come on! There's a good film on at the Odeon. All What about tomorrow?” ‘She shook her head. 'Not tomorrow. itor Angel. I'l treat you. "Wednesday? ‘Sorry. Can't "What about Thursday, then?” wanage Wednesda ‘Idunno. I might. 1k think about it,’ she said. (On Thursday morning, he came to school early, in his new trousers and his best shirt But when Bella came, she told him she was going out with Kevin Clarke ‘But you promised —" "I never promised, I just said I might,’ she told him, ‘Ask me again some time. So he asked her the next day, and the next day and the next, and every time she said, "I dunno, I might. Ask me again.’ ‘The last time she said this, he tumed away without a word, and went to look out of the window, ignoring her. She didn't like that ‘What are you looking at? sli asked, coming to stand beside him. "Nothing in particular’ “Yes, you are. You're looking at Meg Hunter. Here she comes, late as usual. Doesn't she look stupid when she runs? Look at that smudge on her face! She can’t have washed at all this morning. Edward knew how Meg got smudges on her face. Sometimes, when he was late, he saw her going along the road in front of him, trailing her fingers over the ledges of the building stroking the dusty plastic dog outside the pet shop, then pushing her unruly hair back trom her face with sooty hands only dust’ he said. ‘And what on earth does she think she's wearing? That cardigan’s hideous! And it's coming unravelled at the sleeve. Why doesn't she make her stepmother buy her some decent clothes” ‘What she needs is a fairy godmother, a pumpkin and a prince,’ Edward said. ‘What she needs is a hot bath and a haircut, Bella retorted, wrinkling her pretty little nose. ‘Don't tell me you fancy her. Edward?” Before he could answer, Mr Dunlock, their teacher, came into the room and ordered them to their places, Edward saw Meg, trying to slip unnoticed into the room, trip over someone's leg ~ whose? Was it Bella's? ~ and stumble heavily against one of the tables. ‘Late again, Meg Mr Dunlock said, He peered at her through his spectacles. ‘What's that on your face” It looks like soot. Go and wash it off, there's a good girl.” ‘As Meg left the room, some of the girls gigeled and whispered. Edward was too far away t0 see who they were. He wondered if Bella was one of them. She could be spiteful, he's already found that out, but he didn’t want 10 have to start again with another girl. He was used to being in love with her, used to asking her out, even used to being refused. he loves ner, but She con”+ There was something to be said for unrequited love. Tt was safer. Often, in his sleep, ‘when he tried to kiss Bella, he tripped over his own feet and missed her altogether. Once he «dreamed he was sitting next to her in the dark cinema, holding her hand, But when he leaned over to kiss her. she suddenly turned into Mrs Trenter, their head teacher, who shouted angrily, “Edward Walden, you've failed your tests! What will your mother say?” Nevertheless it hurt his pride that Bella should keep on refusing him when she went ‘out with several other boys who were not, he considered, better looking or more amusing or in any way nicer than he was. [don’t mean to be conceited, but honestly!’ he said to his friend Michael. ‘She's been out with Kevin a lot, and he's the dregs. Why do you think it is?’ ee ee ee “The girl's daft,’ Michael said kindly. 'She's got bad taste. ‘The next Sunday, Edward walked moodily in the park, looking for Meg. He found her sitting in her favourite tree and climbed up beside her. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? he asked. “In what way? Have you got a pain or.spots or something?” ‘No, I meant... Am I off-putting in any way? Have I got halitosis or do my feet stink” "No,’ she said, ‘If you were Bella, would you rather go out with me or Kevin Clarke” Meg laughed. ‘Kevin Clarke write her poems,’ she said ‘Poems Edward repeated in astonishment, Whatever for?” ‘She likes them. She sticks them in an album opposite photographs of herself, and shows them to us.’ "Good grief’ Edward said, appalled by this new slant on his beloved, "What are they about?” “They/te all about her, of course,’ Meg told him. "You know the gort of thing: “Oh Bella's hai brighter than the sun, And Bella's eyes are bluer than the sky ~" ‘What rot’ Edward said in disgust. It’s not even true. Bella's hair is pretty enough, but I bet it’s never ripened any tomatoes. I wonder she can stomach such tripe. She must be terribly vain Meg didn't say anything. "You wouldnt want anyone 10 write poems to you, would yo Meg? he asked, ‘I don't know. Just once, perhaps. But nobody ever will she said. He thought she sounded abit wistful. She wanted ‘TIL write you a poem, if you like,’ he offered. "Not that 'm good at it, but I bet I can do as well as Kevin, Shall 1?” ‘Don't say that my hair will ripen tomatoes because it won't,’ she said, pushing it back from her face and leaving a smudge on her nose. ‘It might do to plant mustard and cress in, ‘Mum's always trying to persuade me to have it cut! "I shall be strictly truthful,’ he promised. “Oh dear’ After a moment, he began: "Your hair is rough and long and needs a cut, Your eyes are..." "What colour are your eyes, M SI ? [can't remember. Look at me, please.’ tumed her head. Her eyes were a greenish hazel and very bright. They reminded him of the sea at Cosheston, sparkling over the pebbles in the sunlight "Your mermaid eyes are flecked with gold and green. Your nose is smudged, your sleeve unravelled but, Of all the girls at school you are my queen. He shouldn't have said that last line. It wasn't true, was it? What about Bella? Besides, he couldn't date Meg. His mother would have a fit and everybédy at schoo! would tease him. He looked at her anxiously, hoping she wouldn't take it seriously, but she only laughed and told him it was a splendid poem, far better than any of Kevin's. ‘Don't worry,’ she said, ‘I won't tell Bella.” At the end of term, their school had a summer disco in the assembly hall. Edward didn't think he'd go. He had given up asking Bella to come out with him, and no longer dreamed of her at night. So he was surprised when she came up to him and said, ‘Aren't you going to ask if you can take me to the summer disco, Edward?” “You don't need anyone to go with. You can just go,’ he told her. “L know that she said. ‘just thought you might want to call for me so we could go together.’ He looked at her suspiciously. "Would you come with me if I asked you ‘Tdunno, { might’ she said and ran off, giggling. ‘And I might ask some other girl,” he said, and walked off. He knew whom he was going to ask. It was only when he found Meg in the library that it occurred to him that she might refuse, "Please,’ he asked, as she hesitated. “Tthought you'd ask Bella Jones,’ she said. "No, I'm asking you. "Tean't dance,’ she said. 've never been to a disco. "Nor have I, he told her and they smiled at one another. He was nervous, standing outside the school on the Saturday of the party. Sometimes he wwas afraid Meg would not come afterall, and Bella would laugh. Sometimes he was afraid Meg would come in her old green trousers, still done up with a safety pin, with her hair ‘unbrushed and her face smudged and Bella would laugh even louder. Bella had arrived with Kevin Clarke, and they were waiting in the entrance, looking at him and sniggering; Bella with her yellow hair frizzed out and her claws sharpened, "Who are you waiting for, Edward” she called out, but just then a big silver car drew up outside the school gates, and a girl in a sea-green dress got out. Her long brown hair was sleek and shining, earrings sparkled in her ears and there were silver buckles on her shoes. As she walked towards them, the thin material of her dress swirled out like waves of the sea. Everyone stared. "Meg,’ Edward said, coming forward. ‘Meg, you look fabulous. elk ‘ect "Don't I look posh? I hardly know myself,’ she told him, laughing. 'Mum and my sisters took me in hand. They've been longing to do it for ages, but I wouldn't let them. ‘Mum's bought me a whole lot of new clothes. Josie gave me these earrings and Netta these bracelets. She was no Cinderella, afterall. She was Meg, whose family loved her, enough to let her play football in the park and climb trees when she wanted to, and to do her proud when the time came. She's beautiful, he thought, and felt for a moment an odd pang of loss. Has she gone for good, the laughing, unruly, romping girl who'd not wanted to grow? "Don't change too much,’ he said. Then, as she looked up at him, he noticed a small smudge of eyeblackon her left cheek. Without thinking, he bent over and kissed her, forgetting that Bella and her friends were watching until he hears the catcalls. He didn't care what they thought, not now. It was as ifthe kiss had broken a spell and set him free. Nobody was going to tell him what to think any longer, nor choose his fiends for him. This was the git! he had always liked. The others could suit themselves. Meg hunter => kind Bdoesn't mind her looks. Bella =>a selfish vein a teaser Play wif Edward feelings. Edward => used +o getting rejected by Bella => self- cencious =>\nsecure -not confident => Peer pressure First expression are not always right Don’t judge a book by it/s cover Bont judge a person by aPpearance Don'd be influenced by preconceived Notion. \n life we somethimes have to Change NAUKAR * Anya Sitaram ‘The sn beamed elesly onthe ston of Caeutasteicksaw-wal oil ya down Southern Avenue, the wooden shafts of the rickshaw rubbing against his prOtrkhing shoulder-blades and scraping away at his skin, threatening to expose his bones completely through wet, pink sores, With his thin neck straining forward, his brown hands swollen by Descri se hea, ping the stats ofthe wagon, heck aueheged bis of es ives Tie ironman ieteady trot into a gallop and he and his! PSUS aerated towards Lake Gardens. Every now and again he tossed his sweating tendrils to unsettle the flies that ‘buzzed round his head like faithiul satelite. Julia Bannerjee shut her eyes asthe rickshaw narrowly missed a bus, which sereamed past within two inches of them. The hood of the vehicle, which had been put up to protect her from the sun, was providing to be more of a nuisance than a comfort for it was too low for her long limbs. Only if she bent double and craned her neck forward from under the hood could she see out of the jolting carriage. If she sat upright, her vision was restricted tothe rickshaw-wallah’s puny waist, puny hips and thin poles of legs. She thought it was almost obscene the way his angular kneecaps, ‘which were the widest part of his legs, jutted out. She hated travelling by rickshaw, not only because it was uncomfortable, but also because it was painful to see a man reduced to the level of a beast as he laboured with the task of transporting another richer. fater, more fortunate being to her destination, Rickshaw- ‘wallah barely lived past middle age. But if she did not travel by rickshaw, she would be depriving a man of his income, her husband had old BEY equality Her husband, Nilkant Banerjee, had been a Marxist. in his college days, a fine specimen of the eamest, vociferous, Khadi-swathed intelligentsia prolific in Calcutta, Having completed his degree, he had joined Ashok Leyland and after several years had been sent to England to get some managerial experience, before returning (0 India to embark on more demanding tasks, including those of being a husband; for during his stay in the Midlands he had fallen in love with a tall, willowy, freckly and very fair English rose. His marriage to a foreigner had been his last act of rebellion before he succumbed tothe cosy allure of affluence. She had Julia had been in India for nearly a year now but had wat yet grown accustomed to her 4o.ge1 use> new home: everything was still remarkable. Even Nitkawt seemed different in his own 4o her surToundings - more arrogant, more conventional than be'd-boen in England. Perhaps it was Tew home _ just the confidence of being at home. ‘Sometimes she just wanted to shut herself away in a cool room and forget. For India al\ she had sharpened her awareness, exposed her senses to a bombardment of sights, smells, sounds, Wore wos Which terrified, amazed and sickened her. She was always appreheasive of venturing out Pearls into the roads swarming with people. animals, cars, buses, trams: soads choked with chaos. ‘She would return home trembling and exhausted after an outing. having spent her nerves and energy dodging the clutching, hungry hands of hawkers, beggars, street Romeos, all thinking a white woman easy prey. Going into the city and back to her house again involved the opening and shutting of her senses, like a wound that is never given a chance to heal but half-closed, half-dried, is ripped open again, by the thing that caused it inthe first place, Calcutta reeked of poverty, death and confusion. Everywhere buildings were crumbling into skeletal ghosts of the Raj. Beggars littered the streets, and those who were too weak to beg collapsed on the pavements and lay prone for days, while skinny stray dogs sniffed at Settings - In England ° Weather Scenery Julia as ihe women of the : household bud nod in India them and people stepped over them as if avoiding rubbish, until they were fortunate enough to die or be scooped up by a Mother Teresa. Even in the dark recesses of her own house away from the excreta, from the smell of urine, betel juice and bidis — India's peculiar perfume — confusion would come wafting in to, invade her peace with another instalment of power cuts, so that hours were spent in primitive heat and darkness, being bitten by mosquitoes and longing for the electricity to return. ‘When she wanted to ring a friend her phone would invariably. be out of order, because some ‘workmen digging an underground railway had accidentally cut through the cables. The authorities had been planning its construction for over ten years but every time a hole of substantial depth was made the surrounding earth would cave in and fill it up again. "Why are they trying to build an underground,’ she had asked Nilkant, ‘if i's proving so dangerous? Besides there isn't enough power to light this bloody city let alone run a new railway!" | "But don’t you know he had smiled enigmatically. "They are building it in the hope that one day when half the population of Calcutta is underground, the electricity will fail, the soil will sink and, bingo — all our problems will be solved. No more over-crowding, no more power cuts.” ‘The city was a seething, multi-mouthed volcano, which spouted putrid, resentful lava at intervals and threatened to explode in a devastating eruption any day. Julia would never forget an incident within the first two weeks of her arrival when her husband and she had witnessed an accident. A street-urchin had rushed into the path of an oncoming car. It was clearly the child's fault, but the sight of the limp, bleeding five-year-old rendered lifeless by a more privileged being angered the crowd that gathered round. They grabbed hold of the river and literally tore him limb from limb. Two deaths were reported in the Calcutta Statesman the next day. One was a child's and the other was a driver's who had been lynched by a mob. A crime had been committed, but hundreds of people were responsible for the: “Ah, yes. in ¢jBut 'm always ready. Everything is always ready day and night in this house just on the offfchance that an acceptable young gentleman will come along. And itis such a pleasure, my dear, such a very great pleasure when now and again I open the door and I see someone standing there who is just exactly right.’ She was half-way up the stairs, and she paused with one hand on the stair-rail, turning her head and smiting down at him with pale lips. ‘Like you,’ she added, and her blue eyes travelled slowly all the way down the length of Billy's body, to his feet, and then up again. (On the first-floor landing she said to him, "This floor is mine.’ They climbed up a second flight. ‘And this one is all yours,’ she said. ‘Here's your room. do hope you'll like it’ She took him into a small but charming front bedroom. switching on the light as she went in, "The morning sun comes right in the window, Mr Perkins. It is Mr Perkins, isn't it?” "No,’ he said. I's Weaver. "Mr Weaver. How nice. I've puta water-bottle between the sheets to air them out, Mr Weaver. It’s such a comfort to have a hot water-bottle in a strange bed with clean sheets, don't you agree? And you may light the gas fire at any time if you feel chilly. “Thank you,’ Billy said. "Thank you ever so much.’ He noticed that the bedspread had been taken off the bed, and that the bedelothes had been neatly tumed back on one side, all ready for someone to get in. ‘Tm so glad you appeared,’ she said, looking earnestly into his face. ‘I was beginning to get worried” “That's al right’ Billy answered brightly. ‘You mustn't worry about me.’ He put his suitcase on the chair and started to open it. “And what about supper, my dear? Did you manage to get anything to eat before you came here?” 20 ‘Tm not a bit hungry, thank you,’ he said. think Il just go to bed as soon as possible because tomorrow I've got to get up rather early and report to the office.” "Very well, then. I'l eave you now so that you can unpack. But before you go to bed, would you be kind enough to pop into the sitting-room, on the ground floor and sign the book? Everyone has to do that because it’s the law of the land, and we don't want to go breaking any laws at this stage of the proceedings, do.we” She gave him a litle wave of the hhand and went quickly out of the room and closed the door. Now, the fact that his landlady appeared to be slightly off her rocket didn’t worry Billy in the least. Afterall, she was not only harmless — there was no question about that ~ ‘but she was also quite obviously a kind and generous soul. He guessed that she had probably lost a son in the war, or something like that, and had never got over it. So a few minutes later after unpacking his suitcase and washing his hands, he trotted downstairs to the ground floor and entered the living-room. His landlady wasn't there, but the fire was glowing in the hearth, and the little dachshund was still sleeping in front of it. ‘The room was wonderfully warm and cosy. I'm a lucky fellow, he thought, rubbing his hands. This is a bit of all right. He found the guest-book lying open on the piano, so he took out his pen and wrote down his name and address. There were only two other entries above his on the page, and, as one always does with guest-books, he started to read them. One was a Christopher Mulholland from Cardiff. The other was Gregory W. Temple from Bristol. ‘That's funny, he thought suddenly. Christopher Mulholland. It rings a bell. ‘Now where on earth had he heard that rather unusual name before? ‘Was he a boy at school? No. Was it one of his sister's numerous young men, perhaps, ‘ora friend of his father’s? No, no; it wasn't any of those. He glanced down again at the book. Christopher Mulholland 231 Cathedral Road, Cardiff Gregory W. Temple 27 Sycamore Drive, Bristol ‘AS a matter of fact. now he came to think of it, he wasn't at all sure that the second name didn't have almost as much of a familiar ring about it as the first. ‘Gregory Temple” he said aloud, searching his memory. ‘Christopher Mulholland? ‘Such charming boys, a voice behind him answered, and he tured and saw his landlady sailing into the room with a large silver tea-tray in her hands. She was holding it well out in front of her, and rather high up, as though the tray were a pair of réins on a frisky horse. "They sound somehow familiar’ he said. "They do? How interesting.’ ‘'m almost positive. I've heard those names before somewhere. Isn't that queer? Maybe it was in the newspapers. They weren't famous in any way, were they? I mean famous cricketers or footballers or something like that” "Famous, she said, setting the tea-tray down on the low table in front of the sofa. ‘Oh no, I don't think they were famous. But they were extraordinarily handsome, both of them. 25 | can promise you that. They were tall and young and handsome, my dear, just exactly like you.’ Once more, Billy glanced down at the book. ‘Look here, he said, noticing the dat last entry is over two years old.’ ‘his? Thi “Yes, Indeed, And Cl three years ago.’ ear before that ~ more than istopher Mulholland’s is nearly. ‘Dear me,’ she said, shaking her head and heaving a dainty little sigh. ‘I would never have thought it. How time does fly away from us all, doesn't it, Mr Wilkins?” "It's Weaver, Billy said, 'W- “Ob, of course itis she cried, sitting down on the sofa. How silly of me. I do apologize. In one ear and out the other, that’s me, Mr Weaver.” "You know something” Billy said. ‘Something that’s really quite extraordinary about all this?” "No, dear, I don't” ‘Well, you see ~ both of these names, Mulholland and Temple, I not only seem to remember each one of them separately, so to speak, but somehow or other, in some peculiar way, they both appear to be sort of connected together as well. As though they were both famous for the same sort of thing, if you see what I mean — like . .: well ... like Dempsey and Tunney, for example, or Churchill and Roosevelt. ‘How amusing,’ she said. ‘But come over here now, dear, and sit down beside me on the sofa and It give you a nice cup of tea and a ginger biscuit before you go to bed.” "You really shouldn't bother,’ Billy said. I didn't mean you to do anything like that He stood by the piano, watching her as she fussed about with the cups and saucers. He noticed that she had small, white, quickly moving hands, and red figger-nails. <«°/ ‘Y'm almost positive it was in the newspapers I saw them,’ Billy said. ‘Il think of it in a second. I'm sure I will. There is nothing more tantalizing than a thing like this which lingers just outside the borders of one's memory, He hated to give up. "Now wait a minute,’ he said. ‘Wait just a minute. Mulholland . . . Christopher Mulholland . .. wasn't that the name of the Eton schoolboy who was on a walking-tour through the West Country, and then all of a sudden "Milk she said. ‘And sugar” 'Yes, please. And then all of a sudden "Eton schootboy” she said. ‘Oh no, my dear, that can't possibly be right because my Mr Mulholland was certainly not an Eton schoolboy when he came to me, He was a Cambridge undergraduate. Come over here now and sit next to me and warm yourself in front of this lovely fire, Come on, Your tca's all ready for you.’ She patted the empty place beside her on the sofa, and she sat there smiling at Billy and waiting for him to come over. 26 He crossed the room slowly, and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She placed his teacup on the table in front of him. "There we are,’ she said. "How nice and cosy this is, isn't it?” Billy started sipping his tea. She did the same. For half a minute or so, neither of them. spoke. But Billy knew that she was looking at him. Her body was half-turned towards him, and he could feel her eyes resting on his face, watching him over the rim of her teacup. Now and again, he caught a whiff of a peculiar smell that seemed to emanate directly from her person. It was not in the least unpleasant, and it reminded him ~ well, he wasn't quite sure ‘what it reminded him of. Pickled walnuts? New leather? Or was it the corridors of a hospital? “Mr Mulholland was a great one for his tea.’ she said at length. “Never in my life have 1 seen anyone drink as much tea as dear, sweet Mr Mulholland.” ‘Tsuppose he left fairly recently,’ Billy said. He was still puzzling his head about the ‘two names. He was positive now that he had seen them in the newspapers ~ in the headlines. ‘Left? she said, arching her brows. ‘But my dear boy, he never left. He's still here, Mr Temple is also here. They're on the third floor, both of them together.’ But Billy set down his cup slowly on the table, and stared at his landlady. She smiled back at him, and then, she put out one of her white hands and patted him comfortingly on the knees. How old are you, my dear?" she asked. ‘Seventeen.’ "Seventeen!" she cried. ‘Oh, it’s the perfect age! Mr Mulholland was also seventeen, But I think he was a trifle shorter than you are, in fact 'm sure he was, and his teeth weren't quite so white. You have the most beautiful teeth, Mr Weaver, did you know that” “They're not as good as they look,’ Billy said. ‘They've got simply masses of fillings in them at the back, "Mr Temple, of course, was little older,’ she said, ignoring his remarks. “He was actually twenty-cight. And yet I never would have guessed it if he hadn't told me, never in my whole life. There wasn't a blemish on his body.” "A what? Billy said. “His skin was just like a baby's.” ‘There was a pause. Billy picked up his teacup and took another sip of his tea, then he set it down again gently in its saucer. He waited for her to say something else, but she seemed to have lapsed into another of her silences. He sat there stating straight ahead of him into the far comer of the room, biting his lower lip, “That parrot’ he said at last. "You know something? It had me completely fooled when | first saw it through the window from the street. I could have sworn it was alive, "Alas, no longer. ‘Ie most terribly clever the way its been done,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t look in the least bit dead, Who did it?” ‘did. "You did” 7 “Of course,’ she said. ‘And you have met my little Basil as well” She nodded towards the dachshund curled up so comfortably in front of the fire. Billy looked at it. And suddenly, he realized that this animal had all the time been just as silent and motionless as the parrot. He put out a hand and touched it gently on the top of its back. The back was hard and cold, and when he pushed the hair to one side with his fingers, he could see the skin undemeath, sgreyish-black and dry and perfectly preserved. ‘Good gracious me,’ he said. ‘How absolutely fascinating.’ He tumed away from the dog and stared with deep admiration at the little woman beside him on the sofa. ‘It must be ‘most awfully difficult to do a thing like that ‘Not in the least’ she said. I stuff all my little pets myself when they pass away. Will ‘you have another cup of tea?” ‘No, thank you.’ Billy said. The tea tasted faintly of bitter almonds, and he didn't much care for it "You did sign the book, didn't you” "On, yes.” "That's good. Because later on, if I happen to forget what you were called, then I can always come down here and look it up. I still do that almost every day with Mr Mulholland and Mr...Mr...) "Temple, Billy said. 'Gregory Temple. Excuse my asking, but haven't there been any other guests here except them in the last two or three years?’ Holding her teacup high in one hand, inclining her head slightly to the left, she looked up at him out of the comers of her eyes and gave him another gentle little smile, "No, my dear.’ she said. ‘Only you." NEIGHBOURS Robert Raymer ‘T suppose there's a mess in the back seat,’ Mrs Koh said, shaking her head. She stood in front of Johnny Leong's terrace house. Her face was flushed and her arms were crossed, as she waited impatiently for Koh and Tan to get out of the car. They had just retumed from the hospital. "You had to volunteer our new car, didn’t you? Why don't you borrow someone ‘else's car like T told you, or wait for an ambulance? Now it's probably ruined. Ruined!” Koh didn't bother to respond as he got out of the car. He rubbed his back and stretched ita litte, His attention was drawn to the mournful sound of someone playing the saxophone. Both Koh and Tan were Johnny's immediate neighbours. The Koh’s terrace house was to the left side of the Leong's house, while Tan, a bachelor, lived to their right. The ‘mediumn-income housing area was new, less than two years old. Malays, Chinese and Indians lived together in relative harmony ~a mini Malaysia. The streets were narrow, and since the monsoon drains were uncovered and there were no sidewalks, they had to walk ~ and even talk — in the street, moving only to let a car pass. Across the street, Miss Chee, a secondary school teacher, unlocked her gate and let ‘out her white Pomeranian Spitz. Miss Chee was tall and thin, with short black hair and razor sharp bangs. Upon noticing Mr and Mrs Koh standing in front of Leong’s gate, she waved and crossed the street to join them. She was halfway there when she realized that Tan the new math teacher at Penang Free School, was standing with them. She blushed, but already it was too late to tum back; he might think she was being rude or was purposely avoiding, him. Mrs Koh was bent over, looking through the side window of the car. She didn't see any mess, though she was convinced that the evidence was there somewhere waiting for her to find it. She looked up to see Miss Chee approaching. Before anyone else had a chance to speak, she blurted out, "Heard about Johnny?” Taken aback, Miss Chee asked nervously, ‘Were he and Veronica fighting again” Mrs Koh’s beady eyes lit up like shiny coins "Did you hear them fighting this morning” She turned to her husband with an I-told- yyou-so look on her face. "Wait a minute, were they fighting” [an asked glancing at Koh "No, they weren't fighting,’ Koh said, glaring at his wife. ‘told you that already. 1 was outside all morning, and I would've heard them." ‘I didn't think so,’ Tan said, and adjusted his glasses. "When Veronica and Lily passed my house, they seemed fine. In fact, they both smiled and waved liked they usually do. Mrs Koh twitched her nose. ‘Veronica didn’t say where they were going, did she? Gambling, that's where! Every Sunday she plays mahjong and I'm sure she's in debt!" she said, and paused to catch their surprised reaction, ‘She onée tried to borrow money from Koh.’ "She only wanted five tinggit-Iah — to buy some vegetables,’ Koh said, shaking his head. ‘She didn't have time to go to the bank.” 29 "You're not her bank either, otherwise she'd be borrowing from you all the time,’ Mrs Koh said. "Thank heavens you didn't give her‘any. "You wouldn't let me, and she's our neighbour!” “It's bad enough she always collecting advance money for her catering, and now that Johnny's dead. Miss Che's mouth dropped wide open. ‘Dead "He's not dead yet,’ Koh said to his wife. "He's still breat “Dead! Still breathing? Miss Chee's mouth went slack, as she looked from Koh to Tan for some answers. He as good as dead,’ snapped Mrs Koh. “Idon't understand,’ Miss Chee said quietly in frustration. ‘Who? Who are you talking about? Johnny? Is he all right” ‘All right? He's all wrong,’ Mrs Koh said. Him and his whole fainily!” “Johnny tried to commit suicide this moming.’ Koh said to Miss Chee. "Wah! Why? "Because Veronica ran up all those gambling debts!" Mrs Koh said Koh glowered at his wife. ‘We don’t know that. We do know that he drank weed- killer. He was drinking it with his beer” Mrs Koh planted her hands squarely on her hips. ‘Drinking! That’ all that man ever did ~ sit around and drink. And that ~ that Veronica! ‘The way she lets that daughter of hers run around like some tramp! Miss Chee's eyes opened wide. ‘Lily? She's an all-A student.’ She leaned toward Tan and said, ‘Lily is my best student. ‘Tan nodded and smiled politely. He again adjusted his glasses even though he didn't need to. Miss Chee asked Tan, ‘When did you find Johnny” “Just before noon,’ Koh replied. ‘Isnt that right, Tan?” “Yes ~ about noon.’ Mrs Koh nodded. ‘Koh told mé he heard Johnny groaning exactly one hour after ‘Veronica took Lily gambling. | happened to look at my watch when they went by. ‘Ididn't hear the groaning until after Tan called me from his gate,’ Koh said, gesturing with his closed fingers to Tan, as if to salute him, “If it wasn't for Tan, Johnny might already be dead/-tah’ “And you had to put him in our BRAND NEW CARY Mrs Koh said, “Just imagine if he died there. All the bad luck itd bring. and with the New Year just around the corner! We'd hhave to sell it, and i's not even two months old! Dr Nathan, an Indian demtist who lived next door to Miss Chee, waved as he slowed down his car, not wanting to hit any of them. He pulled into the driveway. 30 Instead of locking his gate, he smiled and waved again, and then crossed the street to join them. He extended his hand to Koh, who was one of his patients. Koh was a full head taller than him and a full head of hair, unlike Nathan, who was balding on top. "A fine Suriday afternoon,’ Nathan said ‘Not for Johnny,’ Mrs Koh replied, "he's dead.’ “Alamak!" “He's not dead, yet Koh said, and shook Nathan's hand, "Tan and I had to take Johnny to the General Hospital. He tried to commit suicide by drinking Paraquat. We managed to ‘contact his son, and he's now over there. Veronica and Lily haven't been told yet. We don't know how to contact them.’ ‘For heaven's sake,’ Nathan said, looking as if he had pulled the wrong tooth. I never realized. Just last New Year ~ yes, it was just last New Year — Johnny had that party and ‘everyone was there, having a grand time." ‘Especially Koh,’ Mrs Koh said, eyeing him. ‘He was so drunk I had to drag him home.’ ‘Las not drunk ~ just celebrating.” ‘Celebrating, ha! That's what you call it you had a hangover for two d miss work!" ‘Twas on annual leave,’ Koh corrected “Same thing — you missed work!" ‘Nathan cleared his voice and asked, ‘Who found Johnny?” Nodding her head sideways at Tan, Miss Chee said, 'Mr Tan did. He heard Johnny groaning.” ‘Lcan't take all the credit, Miss Chee. Your name is Miss Chee, am I correct?” "Why yes, it is,’ Miss Chee said, and her smile widened, 'My friends call me Alice.” "My friends and my patients call me, Nathan,’ Nathan said, and offered his hand to ‘Tan. Tan shook it and introduced himself. "Anyway, Tan continued, ‘it was Koh who was the first one inside the house. He also called the ambulance.’ ‘But we decided not to wait,’ Koh said. ‘The hospital was asking all these foolish questions that we couldn't answer, so we took him in ourselves.” ‘In our BRAND NEW CARY added Mrs Koh. ‘Really? You have a new car, I never realized,’ Nathan said, I haven't had a new car since I bought my Proton Saga ~ our first national car, mind you. We've certainly come a Jong way since Independence, haven't we? Nathan's smile overflowed with pride. ‘Now Johnny, he was a good neighbour. Yes, a good neighbour, even though he still owes me for treatment. Root canals aren't cheap, you know.’ 31 if mea eek aeakhnw- OAR EREERE SEA "That reminds me,’ Koh said, 'my tooth has been hurting again.” “Oh, dear. You mustn't wait, or you could find yourself in a lot of pain. That's what happened to Johnny. He waited until the pain was unbearable. ‘Should I call your office for an appointment or ‘Two passing motorcycles drowned out Koh's question and Nathan's reply. Miss Chee's dog barked and feigned a chase. After a few frantic steps, it turned around and came back to Miss Chee, “Ramlis kids!" Mrs Koh said, staring down the street after the. ‘Race here, race there. And last week I saw one of them teaching Lily how to ride. I don't know why Veronica lets her daughter ~ at that age ~ run around with boys. I'd never let my daughter do that! And today, ofall days, she takes Lily gambling.” Nathan scratched his left ear. ‘Oh dear, I never realized Veronica gambles." Mrs Koh was nodding, as she added, ‘Every Sunday. She once asked me to go with her to her cousin's house in Air Itam. That's where she gambles. ‘You told me you had no idea where Veronica went, Koh said, frowning, annoyed. “Johnny's son was trying to reach her.’ Mrs Koh defiantly crossed her arms and said, ‘It's none of my business where she gambles.’ "You should never gamble with your teeth.’ Nathan said, and nodded to Tan. He took out a business card and passed it to him. 'If you ever need a reliable dentist, I live right across the street. Koh here knows where my office is. You can't get more reliable than a neighbour,’ he added, chuckling. Ramli, an elderly Malay who sold satay at the night markets, was walking down the middle of the street in their direction, His back was ramrod straight. He nodded to Tan, one. of his regular customers, and joined them. “My eldest daughter tells me Johnny hasn't been at schoo! the past three days.’ Rami said. "Then yesterday she saw him walking along the main road carrying his helmet — without his motorcycle. Imagine that!" Miss Chee asked Tan, in a low voice, ‘Is Johnny a teacher, too” ‘No.’ Tan replied, he's a janitor at my school ‘A dead janitor; added Mrs Koh. “Dead! Don't talk about dead. No joke-lah!" Ramli gazed from face to face. as though he had missed the punch Tine to sick joke. Still, he hoped someone would explain it to him. "So, who's dead? Hub?” ‘Johnny, but he's not dead - at least not yet’ Koh said. "But he did try to kill himself by drinking Paraquat. ‘Paraquat? Ya Allah!" Ramli said, and his dark brown eyes rolled upwards to heaven. °Koh heard him groaning around noon,’ Mrs Koh said. ‘One hour after Veronica took Lily gambling,” 32 "Wasn't it Tan who heard the groaning?’ said Miss Chee. She glanced at Tan for confirmation. Koh nodded. ‘That's right. If it wasnt for Tan, Johnny might already be dead.’ "Ithas to be about money-lah,' unli said to no one in particular. Everyone was looking at him. "Why else would he sell his motorcycle” ‘He's right-ah, Koh said. ‘Why else? Unless he was Was he?” Tan and Ramli shrugged. "Wouldn't surprise me,’ Mrs Koh said. Gambling, drinking, womanizing ~ what a family!” "Now I'll never get that root canal bill paid,’ Nathan said, and grimaced. "Tm sure Johnny has some insurance somewhere,’ Tan said, trying to be helpful. Koh frowned as if he had stepped on someone's chewing gum and just found it stuck to his shoe. "Well if he does, he didn't buy it from me.’ Koh said. I must've asked him a half dozen times, What good did it do me? And I'm his neighbour!" "Tell me about it! One of my sons had offered to buy his motorcycle for its licence plate number. Willing to pay him good money. oo.’ Rami said, ‘and now look what he did ~ sold it t6 someone else. A stranger, 100. Miss Chee was watching her dog go back and forth across the street. She sighed in exasperation and said. ‘It’s a good thing Veronica has that catering business to fall back on ~ if worst comes to worst.’ She caught Tan’s gaze. ‘Are you buying from her, too” "Well, no—not yet. Tan replied, ‘but I was thinking about it” "Ic must be difficult living on your own like that.” ‘Tve been doing it for fifteen years.’ Nathan said, ‘and I can cook, too. Miss Chee smiled politely. ‘Now if Johnny doesn't make it —* ‘He won't if he drank Paraquat,’ Rami said. ‘That one's a sure killer.” ‘Either way, Miss Chee said, politely, ‘Tm sure the good Lord will look atter Veronica and Lily, “Are they Christians?’ Tan asked. ‘He has a Christian name, doesn't he” Mrs Koh said. ‘So do Veronica and Lil “Come to think of it, I don't think they are,’ Koh said, seratching his head. ‘In fact. 1 think they're Buddhists. Or. used to be. With Johnay vou could never tell, though. Back in school many of us added Christian names but we weren't Christian. Even you did, long before you converted That doesn't make it right,’ Mrs Koh said. “Phey're being misleading.’ 33 ‘Tan said, ‘I think Johnny told me he was a free-thinker.” Koh laughed. "That's Johnny for you ~ he liked everything free.” "You should know.’ Mrs Koh said, ‘you were always over there drinking his free beer "You're just jealous Johnny never asked you to come along.’ "wouldn't go over there even if Johnny and Veronica begged me to." ‘Tan was gazing at the round table not far from Johnny's gate. He cleared his voice and said to Miss Chee, ‘We used to sit right there and talk. The very night I moved in — even though I was a total stranger ~ Johnny invited me over. We must've sat up half the night philosophizing about everything under the sun.’ Guilt crept into his eyes. Just last night I was over there.’ "I saw you,’ Miss Chee blushed glance down from my bedroom window Tan looked up at the window. He then looked at Miss Chee. Tan looked at her with surprise. "I happened to "You know, I really think Johnny was just a lonely man.” "You think he's lonely” Nathan said. ‘My wife has been dead fifteen years. FIFTEEN YEARS! Johnny can’t be lonely, not with a wife and daughter at home. And his son comes ing often enough.’ ‘Johnnie has a son” Ramli pondered thi "Danny's at that! "Tthought he only has a daughter.” is name,’ Miss Chee s id. "He was one of my first students. A bright student "Yes, we had a long talk at that New Year party,’ Nathan said. ‘Danny's a good boy with a good job. ‘Good boy, ha!” Mrs Koh said. Ever since he became a big shot atthe bank he certainly acts like one — living in town and wasting money paying extra rent. What for! A good boy would stay at home and help his father pay the bills, especially the way Veronica gambles and throws away money on Lily ~always buying her the latest styles.” “Atleast Veronica works,’ Koh said, Mrs Koh twitched her nose. Her food isn't much to talk about — so bland! And she's always asking for advance money. Why can’t her son give her some of his money? Huh? ‘Lwish my elder two sons would settle down and find good jobs like that,’ Ramli said "Before I was twenty, had a job, a house and a wife! Back in those days, boys had more responsibilities.” ‘Tesure would be nice if your sons stopped racing up and down the street,’ Mrs Koh said. "The noise is deafening! "See! See! That's what happens when grown boys stay at home ~ they get restless!" Ramli said, his arms raised in surrender. ‘Only a wife will settle them down. A wife and a {job will teach them some responsibilities. If you ask me, Johnny had it too easy. Too ea has a working wife and only two children. One living on his own like that. Look at n of them, and a mother-in-law at home who's driving me crazy! You don't see me committing six suicide, do you ‘Mrs Koh was staring past Nathan's shoulder to one of the houses, further up the street. ‘Who's playing that — that thing, anyway? ‘It's a saxophone,’ Koh said, fingering his mole hair. "People shouldn't play those things unless they already know how,’ she said “Ihe doesn’t practise,’ Koh said, ‘how can he know how? When I was a boy Thad an old trumpet and I used to practise ALL DAY.’ Koh smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, remembering. Ramli was straining his neck to see around them. He was looking in the opposite direction, down the street. “Here comes Veronica, he said, and all of them looked. ‘Veronica and Lily were walking side by side, each carrying several plastic bags. Koh turned to his wife and s shopping.” ‘Mrs Koh twitched her nose in defiance. She peered around their car to get a better, "Looks like they didn't go gambling after all — just look. Miss Chee asked, ‘Think she knows about Johnny?” Mrs Koh shook her head. ‘I bet she was too busy spending all her money on that daughter of hers to know anything. "If you ask me,’ Ramli said, ‘Johnny had it to0 easy. Too easy.” Miss Chee said. Lily is my best student.’ "Thope they don't move, "Don't even mention it,’ Nathan said, ‘or Ill lose two more patients. ‘Of course they'll move.’ Mrs Koh said. ‘Wouldn't you move if your husband commits suicide right in your own home?” "Tm not married,’ Miss Chee replied, and glanced at Tan. Koh asked. There's a football match I wanted to watch on TV. "Hey, what time is it? ‘Oh my, it’s nearly two,’ Nathan said, as he glanced at the time. "I haven't had my lunch yet- no wonder I feel hungry. “Two? Already? I got to run-lah,’ Koh said, and hurried next door. Tan asked, Who's going to tell Veroni Rami and Nathan both shrugged as they returned to their respective terrace houses betiore Veronica and Lily arrived at the gate. "Not me,’ said Mrs Koh. ‘It’s none of my business. 35 GUIDELINES FOR ANALYSING A SHORT STORY General | # Title (In what way is it suitable?) Nore the | # Moral (What i the purpose ofthe writer?) Jollowing: | 4 ‘Theme (What is the general theme of the story?) # (What is the underlying theme?) Characters | 4 — Vitlain/ nero (Was there a villain /hero inthe story?) Observed | 4 Conflicts (What sor of conflict confronts the characters?) veils: # Personality traits through description / conversation / actions (How does the author portray the characters in the story?) Plot # Setting ~ time of day /season Examine # — Mood (What is the predominant element in the story?) these | gh point or cimox (What iste cima of he sony) # Rising action / falling ation (Discuss the rising / falling action of the story.) Language | # — Chronological or flashback action Consider | ‘Time span ~ a few minutes /a lifetime (How are the events the use of presented inthe story?) Jl lovin # Beginning and ending (How does the story start and end?) ‘nthe | Impression on the reader (What are your impressions?) story # — Symbotism 4 Incongruity # Suspense # Surprise ending # Irony 4 Satire # Simi # Metaphor . | # —Personification (In what way have they enhanced the story?) 26 POETRY Theme: RELATIONSHIPS i ‘William Butler Yeats ‘A Prayer for My Daughter 8 | Roger McGough _| The Way Things Are 4 Wong Phui Nam For My Old Ama Elizabeth B, Browning Sonnet 43, ‘Chung Yee Chong Ways of Love Pablo Neruda ‘Tonight 1 Can Write Theme: CONFLICTS Wilfred Owen Dulce Et Decorum Est _| 4% “Thomas Hardy The Man He Killed 47 | Cecil Rajendra Death of a Rainforest 4 | Stanley Kunitz 7 Omar Mohd Nor William ‘Crabbed age and youth cannot st | Shakespeare live together | ‘Theme: PERCEPTIONS OF SELF Robert Frost - John Clare | | Margaret Atwood — 55 [[Flugo Williams Waiting To Go On 36 | Craig Romkema Daring Tears 57 [Muhd. Haji Salleh | the waveller [38 37 beth & THEME: RELATIONSHIPS William Butler Yeats: A PRAYER FOR MY DAUGHTER 10 20 25 planns 30 Once more the storm is howling, and half hid Under this cradle-hood and coverlid My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle But Gregory's wood and one bare hill Whereby the haystack-and-roof-levelling wind, Bred on the Atlant can be stayed: ‘And for an hour I have never walked and prayed Because of the great gloom that is in my mind. have walked and prayed for this young child an hour And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower, ‘And under the arches of the bridge, and scream In the elms above the flooded stream: Imagining in excited reverie ‘That the future years had come, Dancing to a frenzied drum, Out of the murderous innocence of the sea. May she be granted beauty and yet not Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught, Or hers before a looking-glass, for such, Being made beautiful overmuch, Consider beauty a sufficient end, Lose natural kindness and maybe ‘The heart-revealing intimacy That chooses right, and never find a friend. Helen being chosen found life flat and dull ‘And later had much trouble from a fool, While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray. 7 Being fatherless could have her way > Yet chose a bandy-legged smith for man. It's certain that the fine women eat ‘Acrazy salad with their meat Whereby the Hom of Plenty is undone. 36 45 50 3 60 In courtesy I'd have her chiefly leamed; Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned By those that are not entirely beautiful; ‘Yet many, that have played the fool For beauty's very self, has charm made wise, And many a poor man that has roved, Loved and thought himself beloved, From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes. May she become a flourishing hidden tree ‘That all her thoughts may like the linnet be, And have no business but dispensing round ‘Their magnanimities of sound, Nor but in merriment begin a chase, Nor but in merriment a quarrel (O may she live like some green laurel Rooted in one dear perpetual place. ‘My mind, because the minds that I have loved, The sort of beauty that I have approved, Prosper but little, has dried up of late, Yet knows that to be choked with hate. May well be of all evil chances chief. If ther Assault and battery of the wind Can never tear the linnet from the leaf. no hatred ina mind ‘An intellectual hatred is the worst So let her think opinions are accursed Have I not seen the loveliest woman born ut of the mouth of Plenty's horn, Because of her opinionated mind Barter that horn and every good By quiet natures understood For an old bellows full of angry wind? 29 65 70 8 80 Considering that, all hatred driven hence, ‘The soul recovers radical innocence And learns at last that itis self-delighting, Self-appeasing, self-affrighting, ‘And that its own sweet will is Heaven's will; ‘She can, though every face should scowl And every windy quarter howl (Or every bellows burst, be happy still. ‘And may her bridegroom bring her to a house Where all's accustomed, ceremonious; For arrogance and hatred are the wares Pedaled in the thoroughfares. How but in custom and in ceremony Are innocence and beauty born? Ceremony’s a name forthe rich horn, ‘And custom for the spreading laurel tree. 40 10 30 35 40 Roger McGough: THE WAY THINGS ARE No, the candle is not crying, it can not feel pain. Even telescopes, like the rest of us, grow bored. Bubblegum will not make the hair soft and shiny. ‘The duller the imagination, the faster the car, Tam your father and that is the way things are, When the sky is looking the other way, do not enter the forest. No, the wind is not caused by the rushing of clouds. ‘An excuse is as good a reason as any. A lighthouse, launched, will not go far, am your father and that is the way things are. No, old people do not walk slowly because they have plenty of time. Gardening books when buried will not flower. Though lightly worn, a crown may leave a scar, 1am your father and that is the way things are. No, the red woolly hat has not been put on the railing to keep it warm, ‘When one glove is missing, both are lost. Today's craft fair is tomorrow's boot sale ‘The guitarist weeps gently, not the guitar Tam your father and that is the way things are. Pebbies work best without batteries. ‘The deckchair will fail as a unit of currency. Even though your shadow is shortening it does not mean you are growing smaller. Moonbeams sadly, will not survive in a jar, Tam your father and that is the way things are. For centuries the bullet remained quietly confident that the gun would be invented ‘A drowning surrealist will not appreciate the concrete lifebelt No guarantee my last goodbye is an au revoi am your father and that is the way things ar. Do not become a prison officer unless you know what your letting someone else in for. The thrill of being a shower curtain will soon pall. No trusting hand awaits a falling star {am your father, and Lam sorry but this is the way things are, a Wong Phui Nam: For my old amah whol bntary doen foreach tet bak oem ‘To most your dying seems distant, 7 > “pati Dp ow eres were? WE beretins Late one A Fo] Sitshb te palings of our concer ‘Only to you the fact was real ‘when the flame caught among the final brambles 5 of your pain. And lying there in this cubicle, on your trestle, ‘over the old newspapers and spittoon, your face bears the waste of terror at the crumbling of your body's walls. 10 ‘The moth fluttering against the electric bulb, and on the wall your old photographs, do not know your going. I do not know ‘when it has wrenched open the old wounds. ‘When branches snapped in the dark 15 ~ you would have had a god among the trees make us a journey of your going. ‘Your palm crushed the child's tears from my face. Now t brutal s room will become your goit in the discarded combs, the biscuit tins 20 and neat piles of your dresses. 42 10 Elizabeth Barrett Browning: SONNET 43 HOW DO I LOVE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS. (From The Portuguese) How do Love thee? Let me count the ways. love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. Hove thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. Tove thee freely, as men strive for Right; ove thee purely, as they tur from Praise. Tove thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints! — I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! ~ and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. 43 ‘Chung Yee Chong: WAYS OF LOVE i you came like the rain without warning then you are the sun 5 burns me consumes me and i to marry your warmth almost like a shadow? i stood Aan fit move 10 awomanapart ‘ but you never walked weal over “ and i am still standing 15. you could have made ‘4 most royal subject ‘worn your armour and charged your steed you could have swept me off yout feet ~ 20 instead you wore your heart ona sleeve and asked for love could not give so itell you 25 abroken king ‘wounded your pride when i could not queen between us there are bridges of words your eyes could never burn — it isn't through a lack of desire to set up what is a fire 4“ 20 25 30 Pablo Neruda: TONIGHT I CAN WRITE. (translated by W.S. Merwin) ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, "The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.’ ‘The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. ‘Through the nights like this one I held her in my arms. | kissed her again and again under the endless sky. She loved me, sometimes Hoved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her. ‘To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. ‘And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture. What does it matter that my love could not keep her. ‘The night is shattered and she is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me. The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same. Ino longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her, My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing Another's, She will be another's. Like my kisses before. Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes, no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so shor, forgetting is so long Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my sou! is not satisfied that it has lost her, Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her. 45 —SS— ae a mere el ae lll ee ee llc ee ll ae ee lle ae llr leer el 20 THEME: CONFLICTS Wilfred Owen: DULCE ET DECORUM EST Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs ‘And towards our distant rest began to trudge. ‘Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod, All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of disappointed shells that dropped behind. GAS! Gas! Quick, boys! — An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets justin time: But someone stil was yelling out and stumbling ‘And floundering like a man in fire or lime. ~ Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In ll my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. Ifin some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, ‘And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupied lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurables sores on innocent tongue: My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, ‘The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori 46 ‘Thomas Hardy: THE MAN HE KILLED (From "The Dynasts") “HAD he and I but met By some old ancient inn, We should have sat us down to'wet Right many a nipperkin! © "But ranged as infantry, & And staring face to face, 10% Iss 4 20 2 I shot at him as he at me, And killed him in his place. “I shot him dead because ~ Because he was my foe, Just so: my foe of course he was; That's clear enough; although “He thought he'd ‘list, perhaps, Off-hand like ~ just as I~ Was out of work ~ had sold his traps No other reason why. "Yes; quaint and curious war is! You shoot a fellow down ‘You'd treat, if met where any bar is, Of help to half-a-crown.” a7 10 20 30 a fF BB Mua ws Bt Se Se eee es & Cecil Rajendra: Death of a Rainforest i wrestle with a rhinoceros but no words will come i hear tall trees crashing wild birds screeching the buffalo stampeding but no words will come ihear sawmills buzzing cash registers clicking entrepreneurs yam-seng-ing but no words will come i hear of press conferences of petitions, of signatures of campaigns & lobbying bbut no words will come i hear the rain pounding into desolate spaces the widowed wind howling but no words will come the thino is boxed & crated merbok & meranti are gone above, no monkeys swing from no overhead branches below, a pangolin stumbles around amputated trunks an orphaned butterfly surveys the wounded jungle ryes, no words this gash of but a terrible anger squats hugging its knees in silence, ialevolence 48 10 15 20 25 30 Stanley Kunitz: '' THE WAR AGAINST THE TREE! ‘The man who sold his lawn to standard oil Joked with his neighbours come to watch the show ‘While the bulldozers, drunk with gasoline, Tested the virtue of the soil Under a branchy sky By overthrowing first tne privet-row. Forsythia-forays and hydrangea-raids ‘Were but preliminaries to a war Against the great-grandfathers of the town, So freshly lopped and maimed. ‘They struck and struck again, ‘And with each elm a century went down. Alll day the hireling engines charged the trees, Subverting them by hacking underground In grub-dominions, where dark summer's mole Rampages through his halls, Till a northern seizure shook ‘Those crowns, forcing the giants to their knees. 1 saw the ghosts of children at their games Racing beyond their childhood in the shade, ‘And while the green world turned its death-foxed page ‘And a red wagon wheeled, I watched them disappear Into the suburbs of their grievous age. Ripped from the craters much too big for hearts ‘The club-roots bared their amputated coils, Raw gorgons matted blind, whose pocks and scars Cried Moon! on a comer lot . ‘One witness-moment, caught In the rear-view mirrors of the passing cars. 49 Ol EST TT TN ENN 10 15 20 Omar Mohd Noor: a quarrel between day and night night proposed to day “Fl take twelve hours, and you take twelve hours’ day had to accept it for there was no alternative or night will take twenty four hours of fear of dream-thoughts fastening us to deep darkness forever but night cannot be trusted it wanted the stars, moon and all citylights leaving only the sun and one stray star astray in early daylight while day laughs at the wet sun that is why I fear the night always bringing dream-thoughts making one hungry in the chest the next morning, abad prelude to a working day with only one forty minute break 50 10 William Shakespeare: "Crabbed age and youth cannot live together" (From "The Passionate Pilgrim, XII") CRABBED age and youth cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasure, age is full of Gare; Youth like summer mom, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare, Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; ‘Youth is wild, and age is tame. Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee; (0! my love, my love is young: Age, I do defy thee: O! sweet shepherd, hie thee, For methinks thou stay'st too long, 51 Ww zn eS Be hee Beoeoe eee lee 10 20 35 THEME: PERCEPTIONS OF SELF Robert Frost: BIRCHES WHEN I see birches bend to left and right ‘Across the line of straighter darker trees, 1 like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay, Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning ‘Afiera rain, They click upon themselves AS the breeze tises, and turn many-coloured ‘As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust ~ ‘Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. ‘They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, ‘And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed So low for long, they never right themselves: You may see their trunks arching in the woods Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair Before them over their heads to dry in the sur But I was going to say when Truth broke in With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm (Now am 1 free to be poetical?) 1 should prefer to have some boy bend them As he went out and in to fetch the cows ~ Some boy too far from town to leam baseball, Whose only play was what he found himself, ‘Summer or winter, and could play alone ‘One by one he subdued his father’s trees By riding them down over and over again Until he took the stiffness out of them, And not one but hung limp, not one was left For him to conquer. He learned all there was To learn about not launching out too soon And so not carrying the tree away Clear to the ground, He always kept his poise Tothe top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim Then he flung outward, feet first, with a s Kicking his way down through the air o the ground, 50 60 So was I once myself a swinger of bi ‘And so I dream of going back to be. It’s when I'm weary of considerations, ‘And life is too much like a pathless wood Where your face burs and tickles with cobwebs. Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. Vd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me ‘And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return, Earth's the right place for love: | don't know where it's likely to go better. Td like to go by climbing a birch tree, And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, tll the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again, That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches, thes; 53 Ne ee eee eee lw Ee ee EE EE oo ott bla BI in Aronb le, ts thie be by etenele ee Cos John Clare: 'f AM" am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; am the self-consumer of my woes, ‘They ris ‘And yet I am, and live with shadows tost and vanish in oblivious host, Into the nothingness of scom and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life nor joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems; ‘And c'en the dearest ~ that I loved the best ~ ‘Are strange — nay, rather stranger than the rest. long for scenes where man has never trod, A place where woman never smiled or wept; There to abide with my Creator, God, ‘And sleep as 1 in childhood sweetly slept; nm bob en Fhe grass below —above the vaulted sky| 2°40 Untroubling and untroubled where I tie, (++ Cait Share ep mn A hee Hare ¢ 10 20 25 Margaret Atwood: THIS IS A PHOTOGRAPH OF ME It was taken some time ago, At first it seems to be asmeared print: blurred lines and grey flecks blended with the paper; then, as you scan it, you see in the left-hand comer a thing that is like a branch: part of a tree (balsam or spruce) emerging and, to the right, halfway up what ought to be a gentle slope, a small frame house. In the background there is a lake, and beyond that, some low hills. (The photograph was taken the day afier I drowned. Tam in the lake, in the centre of the picture, just under the surface. is diff precisely, or to say It 10 say where how large or small {am the effect of water ht is a distortion but if you look long enough, eventually ‘you will be able to see me.) ccm sane et se 10 wef be bape tre Hugo Williams: WAITING TO GO ON I tuned the pages slowly, listening for the car, Till my father was young again, a soldier, or throwing back his head on slicked back Derby Days before the war. stared at all the fame and handsomeness and thought they were the same. Good looks were everything where I came from. ‘They made you laugh. They made you have a tan. ‘They made you speak with conviction. uch a nice young man!" my mother used to say. "So good looking!" I didn't agree with her, but I searched my face for signs of excellence, turning up my collar in the long narrow mirror on the stairs and flourishing a dress sword at myself ‘Hugh Williams, even more handsome in Regency!" ‘The sound of wheels on the drive ‘meant [had about one minute to put everything back where I'd found it and come downstairs as myself att Gta . muvee en “hee Oe y Le. tows wh Lory sof = hdkol oy Bak 56 fi pet fo ye en Laces OR Ete ee ee RE Lote’ ‘et KIA RAT tyou ene fells « vit Craig Romkema: DARING TEARS 20 25 han pp ob we! ~ tyes AT har My grandpa died last night. ‘The family cried in grief and shock, Holding each other in one group hug While I sat by our space heater ‘And stared into the darkness. Iwas crying inside too, But no one knew Because my face rarely shows The struggles of my heart, remember one day when my emotions got through, When my loneliness reached a point of desperation ‘And tears came pouring out Mom was there to hold me Until my sobbing stifled. Comfort is a privilege But without communication What chance is there of comfort? Later last night Mom got out the board And let me share my pain Hugged me in spite of my stiff response, Reached into my heart. Never never think you understand How we autistic people feel Undemeath the giggles, we may be Dying inside. Thank God there is someone in my fife Who listens. seen th, Oe erprrer Peeerbers poy meg be wu? ft 2. s wolp mop apron meatal we ha tour lee H Nor, 87 10 Is Hugo Williams: WAITING TO GO ON I tumed the pages slowly, listening for the car, Till my father was young again, a soldier, ‘or throwing back his head ‘on slicked back Derby Days before the war. I stared at all the fame and handsomeness and thought they were the same. Good looks were everything where I came from. ‘They made you laugh. They made you have a tan ‘They made you speak with conviction. "Such a nice young man! my mother used to say. "So good looking!" I Vt agree with her, but I searched my face for signs of excellence, turning up my collar in the long narrow mirror on the stairs and flourishing a dress sword at myself "Hugh Williams, even more handsome in Regen: ‘The sound of wheels on the drive ‘meant I had about one minute to put everything back where I'd found and come downstairs as myself. Ye Grew Gia “hee Tey ta Rapport bap al = balol ee Pak Muhammad Haji Salleh: the traveller for i am only a traveller finding my way among the streets of your new town, i have other places to go to, i shall someday work out a map of this city 5 for iam only a traveller, and cannot stay longer traverse it on foot, someday. where there is no home. take my love while you can, take my hatred, take my weathered hand if you will, 10 fori shall have no home here, among the dull hard buildings ‘where the heart cannot stay for i am only a traveller oon my way, to somewhere further than here. 15 this is the city that broke my heart, that stole my feelings from me; this is the city that took away my love, that told me I must go away. i must go, somewhere, 20 somewhere, where they can know me; can recognise that { am a man, asleep i'l walk out quietly along your cruel streets some night when the city through the suburban edge and into the dawn forests. 25 somewher , perhaps near where the sun rises, ican sit down, and sometimes perhaps, i can tell myself, here, iam aman ee a wee Oe Foo es spe 58 4 15 Muhammad Haji Salleh: the traveller for iam only a traveller finding my way among the streets of your new town, i have other places to go to. i shall someday work out a map of this city and traverse it on foot, someday. for i am only a traveller, and cannot stay longer where there is no home. take my love while you can, take my hatred, take my weathered hand if you will, for i shall have no home here, among the dull hard buildings where the heart cannot stay. fori am only a traveller on my way, to somewhere further than here. this is the city that broke my heart, that stole my feelings from me; this is the city that took away my love, that told me I must go away. i must go, somewhere. somewhere, where they can know me: can recognise that [ am a man. some night when the city is asleep i walk out quietly along your cruel streets through the suburban edge and into the dawn forests. somewhere, perhaps near where the sun rises, : ican sit down, and sometimes perhaps, i can tell myself, here, i ama man Gla foo cee lh hath < pees 58 GUIDELINES FOR ANALYSING A POEM Put on your SPECS! Subject - Matter ‘What event, situation, or experience does the poem describe or record?” Purpose / Theme / Message ‘What is the purpose of the poet writing this? What message does he/she want to communicate? . Emotion / Mood / Feeli Craftsmanship / Technique ‘What is the predominant emotion or mood? Does the mood change during the poem? ‘What emotions or feelings does the poet seek to evoke in the reader/hearer? ing, ‘The specific skills the poet has used in creating his/her work of art Summary Whit is the impact of the whole poem for you? How successtul is it as a work of ant? Does it successfully achieve the poet’s purpose or is it flawed in some serious way? Menta handicapes = Imteluigend Mate Cnr nread er mendet be on "homer eleus MEAG -maotehy &

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