Presentation on theme: "No Man is an Island, John Donne, (1572-1631) No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod."— Presentation transcript:
No Man is an Island, John Donne, (1572-1631) No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of they friends’s or of thine own were. Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved with mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
The Unknown Citizen by W.H. Auden (To JS/07/M/378) This Marble Monument is Erected by the State He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be One against whom there was no official complaint, And all the reports on his conduct agree That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint, For everything he did he served the Greater Community. Except for the War till the day he retired He worked in a factory and never got tired, But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc. Yet he wasn’t a scab or odd in his views, For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
The Unknown Citizen by W.H. Auden (Our report on his Union shows it was sound) And our Social Psychology workers found That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink. The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way. Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured, And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.
The Unknown Citizen by W.H. Auden Both Producers Research and High-grade Living declare He was fairly sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan And had everything necessary to the Modern Man, A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire. Our researchers into Public Opinion are content That he held the proper opinions for the time of year; When there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went.
The Unknown Citizen by W.H. Auden He was married and added five children to the population, Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation, And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education. Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd: Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
Going Outside, Judith Wright I stepped out into the day without thinking. It rushed at me took me by the throat turned me back and slammed the door after me. - Blast you can’t you ever remember your coat and gloves?
Canberra Night, Dorothy Shaw Stars frozen bright in a frosty sky, the Cross is right overhead. The Clouds of Magellan drift into view and like Magellan I dream of strange and wonderful worlds, only mine are in galaxies far, far away.
The Evening Star From Song Cycle of the Moon-Bone Wonguri-Mandjigai People, tr. Ronald M. Berndt Up and up soars the Evening Star, hanging there in the sky. Men watch it, at the place of the Dugong and of the Clouds, and of the Evening Star. A long way off, at the place of Mist, of Lilies and of the Dugong. The Lotus, the Evening Star, hangs there on its long stalk, held by the Spirits. It shines on that place of the Shade, on the Dugong place, and on to the Moonlight clay pan... The Evening Star is shining, back towards the place of the Dugong,
The Evening Star (continued) The place of the Eggs, of the Tree-Limbs-Rubbing- Together, and of the Moonlight clay pan... Shining on its short stalk, the Evening Star, always there at the clay pan, at the place of the Dugong... There, far away, the long string hangs at the place of the Evening Star, the place of the Lilies. Away there at Milingimbi...at the place of the Full Moon, Hanging above the head of that Wonguri tribesman: The Evening Star goes down across the camp, among the white gum trees... Far away, in these places near Milingimbi...
The Evening Star (continued) Goes down among the Ngurulwulu people, towards the camp and the gum trees, At the place of the Crocodiles, and of the Evening Star, away towards Milingimbi... The Evening Star is going down, the Lotus Flower on its stalk... Going down among all those western clans... It brushes the heads of the uncircumcised people... Sinking down in the sky, that Evening Star, the Lotus... Shining on to the foreheads of all those head-men... On to the heads of all those Sandfly people... It sinks there into the place of the white gum trees, at Milingimbi.
References: Boomer, G., and McFarlane, P., 1975, Orange Moon, Avant Garde, Australia, 147 Griffin, D., 2002, Changi Days: the Prisoner as Poet, Kangaroo Press, Australia, 54, 59-60, 68 Mackenzie, P., (Ed.) 1990, the Poetry of Canberra, Polonins, ACT, 79, 83, O’Connor, M. (Ed.), 1988, Two Centuries of Australian Poetry, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 17-18