I love writing... but only fiction writing, stuff about things that don't really exist or could never happen. When it comes to writing for academic reasons, or assignments in class, I get very stubborn, and lazy, "I dun wanna", (que bratty wailing and thrashing around). I can do it, and do it rather well, it just sucks my soul from my body, and my drive to do anything, much less this paper. It is a chronic illness, sad to say. I've had it since high school, probably since around tenth grade or so. Ah-ah, sometimes I have to work up to working on such writings for hours before I ever actually start. I have to start by doing something else that was productive and keep up the momentum. Such a pain.
Anyway, below will be my piece for writing that moves me.
War is Kind by Stephen Crane
I first read this piece when I was in
10th grade. I still don't know exactly what drew me to
this poem, only that I liked it so much I took a piece of paper right
there in class, and copied it down so I could bring it home with me.
Perhaps it was the images it portrayed, the fact that it was about
the foolishness of war, something I have always had a strong opinion
of. When I read it, I get the image of a smiling, emotionless man,
just callously destroying you and you life. It has such vivid imagery
attached to the words. The pain that war brings to all it touches.
Now as to what techniques that were
used to create this masterpiece, my favorite was his use of
antithesis. There are two lines, “the virtue of slaughter”, “the
excellence of killing” in the fourth stanza. It shows a mockery of
what they tell you about war, the glory of it, that you are a hero
for killing, for murdering for your country. He also uses
Epistrophe, again and again repeating the phrase “war is kind,”
which in and of itself is an antithesis. It is also a bit of verbal
irony, which he also uses for the lines in the second stanza, “great
is the battle-god,great, and his kingdom a field where a thousand
corpses lie.” The poignancy of this poem and the sadness that it
creates in me with its vivid telling just really touches me still,
even after all these years.
| War Is Kind | |
| Stephen Crane (1899) | |
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind, Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind. Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, Little souls who thirst for fight, These men were born to drill and die. The unexplained glory flies above them. Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom-- A field where a thousand corpses lie. Do not weep, babe, for war is kind. Because your father tumbles in the yellow trenches, Raged at his breast, gulped and died, Do not weep. War is kind. Swift blazing flag of the regiment, Eagle with crest of red and gold, These men were born to drill and die. Point for them the virtue of slaughter, Make plain to them the excellence of killing And a field where a thousand corpses lie. Mother whose heart hung humble as a button On the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind! |
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