Photograph
We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken And time's forever frozen still
Photographs are a way of seeing. Photographs are also a way of remembering
FRIENDS’ PHOTOS We all looked like goddesses We were beautiful, without exception. and gods, glowing and smooth, sheathed I could hardly bear to look at those from head to foot by a golden essence old albums, to see the lost glamour that glistened and refracted its aura we never noticed when we were of power – the wonderful ichor called youth. first together – when we were young. We moved as easily as dolphins Ruth Fainlight surging out of the ocean, cleaving massed tons of transparent water streaming away in swathes of bubbling silver like the plasm of life. Still potent from those black and white photos, the palpable electric charge between us, like the negative and positive poles of a battery, or the fingers of Adam and God.
Re Recap: W-H-Y WHA HAT – UNDERSTANDING IDEAS IN THE POEM The poem is about…. OW – ANALYSING THE METHODS AND EFFECTS HOW The poem describes… This description evokes a sense of… WHY HY – INTERPRETING THE PURPOSE OF THE POEM The poem is a comment on…
‘FRIENDS’ PHOTOS’: LANGUAGE We all looked like goddesses We were beautiful, without exception. and gods, glowing and smooth, sheathed I could hardly bear to look at those from head to foot by a golden essence old albums, to see the lost glamour that glistened and refracted its aura we never noticed when we were of power – the wonderful ichor called youth. first together – when we were young. We moved as easily as dolphins Ruth Fainlight surging out of the ocean, cleaving massed tons of transparent water streaming away in swathes of bubbling silver like the plasm of life. Still potent from those black and white photos, the palpable electric charge between us, like the negative and positive poles of a battery, or the fingers of Adam and God.
‘FRIENDS’ PHOTOS’: PERSPECTIVE, TENSE, TONE We all looked like goddesses We were beautiful, without exception. and gods, glowing and smooth, sheathed I could hardly bear to look at those from head to foot by a golden essence old albums, to see the lost glamour that glistened and refracted its aura we never noticed when we were of power – the wonderful ichor called youth. first together – when we were young. We moved as easily as dolphins Ruth Fainlight surging out of the ocean, cleaving massed tons of transparent water streaming away in swathes of bubbling silver like the plasm of life. Still potent from those black and white photos, the palpable electric charge between us, like the negative and positive poles of a battery, or the fingers of Adam and God.
‘FRIENDS’ PHOTOS’: SENTENCE CONSTRUCTION Write a statement that shows your understanding of the purpose of the poem.
Constructing a Literary Sentence (or two) • This poem depicts the bittersweet process of ageing through the presentation of a persona looking through her old photographs. The association of strength and vitality with the images of her youthful self is contrasted with the grief it causes her to be reminded of what she has lost, and worse, had not treasured when she had it. Wr Writing a Literary Sentence: [Ver Verb + + Topi Topic + + Te Techniqu que/M /Method od]
Constructing a Literary Sentence (or two) • This poem depicts the bittersweet process of ageing through the presentation of a persona looking through her old photographs. The association of strength and vitality with the images of her youthful self is contrasted with the grief it causes her to be reminded of what she has lost, and worse, had not treasured when she had it . Bo Bold: WHAT HAT (Topic) Und Under erlined ned: HOW OW (Effects) It Italics: W : WHY (P (Purpose)
PHOTOGRAPH OF MY FATHER IN HIS TWENTY-SECOND YEAR October. Here in this dank, unfamiliar kitchen I study my father's embarrassed young man's face. Sheepish grin, he holds in one hand a string of spiny yellow perch, in the other a bottle of Carlsberg Beer. In jeans and denim shirt, he leans against the front fender of a 1934 Ford. He would like to pose bluff and hearty for his posterity, Wear his old hat cocked over his ear. All his life my father wanted to be bold. But the eyes give him away, and the hands that limply offer the string of dead perch and the bottle of beer. Father, I love you, yet how can I say thank you, I who can't hold my liquor either, and don't even know the places to fish?
PHOTOGRAPH OF MY FATHER IN HIS TWENTY-SECOND YEAR Oc Octo tober. r. Here in this dank, unfamiliar kitchen I study my father's embarrassed young man's face. Sheepish grin, he holds in one hand a string of spiny yellow perch, in the other a bottle of Carlsberg Beer. In jeans and denim shirt, he leans against the front fender of a 1934 Ford. pose bluff and hearty for his posterity, He would like to po Wear his old hat cocked over his ear. wanted to be bold. All his life my father wa But the eyes give him away, and the hands that limply offer the string of dead perch and the bottle of beer. Father, I love you, en know the places to yet how can I say thank you, I who can't hold my liquor ei either her , and don't ev even fish?
PHOTOGRAPH OF MY FATHER IN HIS TWENTY-SECOND YEAR The poem is true in its particulars, except that my dad died in June and not October, as the first word of the poem says. I wanted a word with more than one syllable to it to make it linger a little. But more than that, I wanted a month appropriate to what I felt at the time I wrote the poem--a month of short days and failing light, smoke in the air, things perishing. June was summer nights and days, graduations, my wedding anniversary, the birthday of one of my children. June wasn't a month your father died in.
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