Hello everyone
I have to do a speech on physical journeys and I've chosen Skrzynecki's Leaving Home.
Can any one give me any help? esp the
"A red and white sign at my feet:
'cabbages for SALE' "
no one, teacher included, seems to understand the meaning in relation to journeys. Also the reference to Scipio Africanus??????

You will have to type it up, I fear. No copies on the 'net that I can find, I mean.

sorry, heres a copy, hope someone can help.

My first country appointment
Was the last thing we expected -
Three of us, caught unaware
By ignorance and faith:
Our dull-witted, frog mouthed obedience
To the letter of the law.

Counting door handles, ringing telephones
And office boys with denture smiles,
I waited three hours
For a two minute interview:
Watching myself outside in the rain,
My severed head under one arm,
Body upright - best white shirt and tie -
A black suit to outdo
The Pallbearer of the Year!
A red-and-white sign at my feet:
"Cabbages for Sale."
The fiddler from Chagall's village
Was inviting me to dance.

The man behind the desk
Never once looked me in the eyes -
His face the back of my application papers.
Hawk-nosed, crew-cut, with
A Tally-Ho paper skin,
He was the millionth person
That couldn't pronounce my name.
No more, no less,
The verdict came next day by phone:
"You must go."

We packed the car
Like a war-time train - clothes,
Books, records, the poems
I'd started writting;
Said goodbye so quickly
I forgot for a moment where I was going.

Three hundreds miles
Up the New England Highway, I stopped;
Unloaded my bags for the night;
Swore that Head Office
Would not see my face again
Unless i became my own Scipio Africanus...
Dreamt of three headless crows
Flying in a room
Whose walls were silently burning.
Bald, toothless faces
stood at the window, laughing in the rain
Clapping to fiddle's music -
Their naked, hairless bodies
The colour of sour milk.

I can have sum info for you maybe tomorrow

Okay, I'll try to analyse this poem as best as I can.


My first country appointment <<
Was the last thing we expected - <<
Three of us, caught unaware <
By ignorance and faith:
Our dull-witted, frog mouthed obedience << To the letter of the law.

Counting door handles, ringing telephones << And office boys with denture smiles,
I waited three hours
For a two minute interview: << Watching myself outside in the rain, << My severed head under one arm,
Body upright - best white shirt and tie -
A black suit to outdo
The Pallbearer of the Year! << A red-and-white sign at my feet:
"Cabbages for Sale."
The fiddler from Chagall's village
Was inviting me to dance. <<
The man behind the desk
Never once looked me in the eyes - < His face the back of my application papers.
Hawk-nosed, crew-cut, with << A Tally-Ho paper skin, < He was the millionth person
That couldn't pronounce my name.
No more, no less,
The verdict came next day by phone:
"You must go."<<
We packed the car
Like a war-time train - clothes, < Books, records, the poems << I'd started writting;
Said goodbye so quickly
I forgot for a moment where I was going. <
Three hundreds miles
Up the New England Highway, I stopped; < Unloaded my bags for the night;
Swore that Head Office
Would not see my face again
Unless i became my own Scipio Africanus... <<<"Scipio Africanus" imples his impotent rage.
Dreamt of three headless crows
Flying in a room
Whose walls were silently burning.
Bald, toothless faces
stood at the window, laughing in the rain
Clapping to fiddle's music -
Their naked, hairless bodies< The colour of sour milk. <


Hope this helps

Pauly

The reference to 'Chagalls village' and the 'fiddler' links to the famous artist (Marc Chagall) ...

Village? [sunsite.sut.ac.jp] />
Fiddler? [sunsite.sut.ac.jp] />
Scipio Africanus ...

[www.bartleby.com] />


See also,

[tinyurl.com] Click on the Skrzy NOTES.doc by Mz Purfect.

[tinyurl.com] Work your way around.

Thanks Hugh and Pauly,
Have almost finished speech n nearly fully understand the poem. (after hours of deconstruction)
Much appreciated
Shanan

For Reem and anyone else whos interested, hope i can be of some assistance.

Leaving Home is the poem in which Skrzynecki takes the reader into a deeper and more psychological level. It tells of his first teaching posistion in Jeogla ( armidale) and the opposition and detattchment he feels.

In the poem he makes reference to his past life, and notices a similarity between his journey immediately post 1945 and the present.

He uses absract and serreal imagery in an attempt to capture his subconciousness and underlying emotional scars.

continuous contrast " first, last" " three hours, two minutes", the reference to war (war time train) coupled with his new beggining ( the poems I'd started writting) and the use of both metaphorical and literal metaphors creates a sense of displacement, confusion and indessiveness ( all common emotions of a physical journey)

The first stanza captures Skrzynecki, and his family's belief in the system quickly turn to awareness to the insensitivities of bureaucracy, the use of punctuation (commonly omitted by Skrzynecki) reinforces the child - like innocence of Skrzynecki.

The Secong stanza enlightens the reader to the blandness, officialness and fakeness of " the department" The description of the severed head symbolises the total removal of ones individual thoughts and control. By attending the meeting, Skrzynecki has " serrended his soul" so to speak and is no longer a holistic being, but a disjointed, displaced and unemotional body amongst a sea of red tape. The mention of the head under the arm signifies the, although removed, presence of the head, Skrzynecki's head is literally only an arms length away.
" Cabbages for Sale" represents a total loos of identity, with the sign the colours of his homeland, Poland
" Chagall's village" in addition to the reference to the painting, also reinforces total loss of control - S in so longer dancing to his own beat, but is tied and bound to that chossen by the fiddler (i.e bureacracy)

The Third, once again reinforces loss of control, unsympathetic bureacracy and the idea that not all journeys are made on our own free will. Sometimes, a higher being can begin, end or divert our journey, regardless of our emotions.

The second last stanza is a quick comparisson between the past and the present. " war time train" reminds the reader of the poets past and obvious underlying emotion issues. " poems, I'd started writting" signifies a new beginning, it is a glimmer of hope in an otherwise depressive tone. The last two lines combine to make an unusually long sentence, which couples effectively with the actual word meaning

The last stanza enlightens the reader to the poets anger and frustration, for the first time, we are shown determination and a possible return of individual thought. Scipio Africanus refers to the Roman General responsible for defeating Hannibal.
The dream is a strong and very vivid description which exposes Skrzynecki's subconciousness. The imagery is absract, surreal and arguable Freudian. It raises the idea that you can not go on a journey to escape anything, as they will follow you in your mind
The headless crows, are of course, Skrzynecki and his parents, the headlessness ties back in with the imagery in stanza 2. The bald, naked, toothless, hairless, starkly white bodies could be a symbol of the Jews, academics and others who perished in the gas chambers during Hilter and his admins WWII regime. Clapping to fiddlerss music ties back with stanza 2 and represents a conforming and militarisitc status ( Hitler, bureacracy, etc)

hope that helped, sorry if it was a little longwinded. Hopefully you can get some ideas/info from my research

note: if anyone else has any other interpretations or disagress with mine, please let me know, id love to her opinions.



The Third Stanza

Last question - why is it poetry, and not prose?

My first country appointment was the last thing we expected - three of us, caught unaware by ignorance and faith: our dull-witted, frog mouthed obedience to the letter of the law.

Counting door handles, ringing telephones and office boys with denture smiles, I waited three hours for a two minute interview: watching myself outside in the rain, my severed head under one arm, body upright - best white shirt and tie - a black suit to outdo the Pallbearer of the Year! A red-and-white sign at my feet: "Cabbages for Sale." The fiddler from Chagall's village was inviting me to dance.

The man behind the desk never once looked me in the eyes - his face the back of my application papers. hawk-nosed, crew-cut, with a Tally-Ho paper skin, he was the millionth person that couldn't pronounce my name.
No more, no less, the verdict came next day by phone: "You must go."

We packed the car like a war-time train - clothes, books, records, the poems I'd started writing; said goodbye so quickly I forgot for a moment where I was going.

Three hundreds miles up the New England Highway, I stopped; unloaded my bags for the night; swore that Head Office would not see my face again
unless i became my own Scipio Africanus... dreamt of three headless crows
flying in a room whose walls were silently burning. Bald, toothless faces
stood at the window, laughing in the rain clapping to fiddle's music - their naked, hairless bodies the colour of sour milk.

Hugh, asked my english teacher and he said to just accept it as poetry. So im sorry i cant answer your question. Whats your opinion?

How to distinguish poetry from prose. Does the work in question use:

-Metaphor and figurative language
-Imagery and sense impressions
-Allusion
-Line and stanza
-Diction and syntax
-Rhythm and sonics
-Theme and argument

My guess is that it has enough of the above to qualify as poetry, yes.

o.k thanks.
YAY last 3 days of school. Term 1 year 12 OVER!
have a great christmas/holiday