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Comparing the falling leaves and flag

Highly John Agard’s ‘Flag’ reveals a sense of extreme futility in war, by taking the symbolic ‘piece of cloth’ that provokes it and exposing its hidden power that ‘brings a nation to its knees’. Furthermore, he relates a lot less to a literal war, but more to an ideological war, in which propaganda fights the truth; using people as its ammunition, it viciously fires endless rounds for an immoral and licentious cause. However Margaret Postgate Cole on the other hand, focuses on the tragedy of war and the almighty realism of it. It is almost blatant, that ‘the falling leaves’ she talks about are the young men pointlessly dying on the battlefield, therefore as ‘no wind whirled them whistling to the sky’, they’re not going to heaven, but actually dying in the dirt, with no personality or individuality they lay waste to this mass exodus of life. Another metaphor consists of her comparing the men to snowflakes; implying pulchritude and diversity among the soldiers. However, like snowflakes, only for a short period of time; their noble, humble and valiant deaths are quickly forgotten under the ground, just like that of melting snowflakes.

Idiosyncratically, Owen usually writing about the monstrous actuality of his firsthand frontline experience has dramatically changed his focus on not the futility of war, but life itself. Interestingly, the melancholy in ‘Futility’ is expressed through anonymity; the undistinguishable death grants a ubiquitous presence of sorrow. Personification has cleverly resulted in bestowing maternal features upon the sun, which in turn, provides a warm feeling both emotionally and physically, contrasting to the snow which we come to relate with bitterness and death. Also, the metaphor: ‘fields half-sown’ could be signifying the premature deaths of the many adolescent soldiers, which were unjustifiably deprived of the omnipotent brilliance of life. Owen concludes the poem on a despondent note, as he questions the age old conundrum that ceases to be answered; what’s the point in it all? It’s ‘fatuous’ and futile to believe sunbeams can bring back a man’s life, therefore the question we are left with – and the ultimate question the narrator pleads to answer – is what made the sun give life at all if it was climactically just going to take it away?
‘Futility’ is a simple two stanza poem, which uses a slightly ambiguous ABABCCC rhyming scheme. It is traditional in its appearance on the page and also in its use of syntax, using Standard English sentence construction. This, in turn gives the poem a traditional iambic pentameter flow.

John Agard’s ‘Flag’ is cleverly based around the irony of a simple ‘piece of cloth’, which idiotically wields the unfathomable power to brainwash millions into dying for a completely iniquitous cause. He exposes this by removing any form of symbolism from the flag, leaving us to take it as a literal object, subsequently uncovering the truth behind this subliminal storm of inexorable torment. The core ideas within the poem are portrayed through a simple question and answer scenario, in which an unknown, yet seemingly familiar persona questions the flag with such naivety, that a strong sense of innocence is bestowed upon it. Agard uses refrain as a fitting backdrop for the misguided insignificance of the flag; ‘What’s that fluttering in a breeze?’ endows the angelic factors of a butterfly which makes it so inconsequential, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Intriguingly, Agard actually focuses on a philosophical war, where young men fight the supreme pressure of conscripting; knowledgeable of the actuality of war nobody would have signed up, but with the malevolent blanket of loathsome corruptness blinding them –provided by the ever so ingenuous government- they were discombobulated into a rash decision that inevitably lead to them willingly sacrificing everything for their forced identity; their ‘Flag’. ‘Flag’ has a very peculiar use of stanza, as it not only vaguely depicts the shape of a flag, but it also creates an anonymous conversation, which could be signifying the abhorrent act of which your flag strips you of your personality and unites you under acquiescent conformity. This point is also backed up by the refraining ABA rhyming scheme, as it suggests that just like the syntax, all these soldiers were carbon copies of one and other.

Margaret Postgate Cole has a truly dissimilar approach to conflict than the other two poets, as in ‘the falling leaves’ she a very detached view on war; it’s not about hostility or fighting, but actually the cosmic repercussions that left so many people in deep remorse. ‘The falling leaves’ is lavished with a definitive poignancy that lingers long after the poem is finished; riding alone, Cole sees ‘leaves dropping from their tree’, in turn striking a spark of memories, which subsequently elaborates into full blown forest fire, which by the end of the poem reaches its critical mass before catastrophically resulting in a complete emotional genocide. Resembling Wilfred Owen, Cole uses the snow as a contrasting reminder of the sickening bloodshed that war invokes. Nevertheless, incongruent to Owen, she is suggesting that these ‘snowflakes’ are the multitude of gallant soldiers who died ‘by no wind of age or pestilence’, but actually lay victims to this moronic facade of injustice, we devilish imbeciles have named: ‘war’. This poem has by far the most isolated scrutiny of war, therefore making it the most metaphorical and suggestive, however Cole has still attained a perfect balance of macabre, woe and solitude that makes this poem the colossal brilliance it proceeds to be.
Ludicrously, ‘The Falling Leaves’ has one verse but with an absurdly gigantic 12 lines, thus creating originality that strongly eschews traditional stanza. The rhyming scheme intriguingly delivers subtle repetition, which maybe represents the leaves that are continuously falling, subliminally trapping Cole in a cage of extreme infamy which she can never escape.
Beguilingly, both Owen in ‘futility’ and Cole in ‘The Falling Leaves’ perceptibly acknowledge the bereavement in war; Cole fashions her own voice into the poem with the intentions of granting it profound personal experience. However, in doing so she has provided a sense of aloofness, as she fails to grant any sort of a significant opinion resulting in a vague and imprudent viewpoint. Distinct from Cole, Owen approaches the disheartening topic with a much darker method; he’s enquiring to know what the point in life is. Through a mental analysis, he begins the poem on a very literal note as he indulges you into the latent heart of chaos, but by the end the narrator has adapted a much more philosophical tone by dissociating himself from war and focusing on life itself. Contradistinction is bestowed upon ‘Flag’, because of its distant propinquity from conflict. Using futility as a contrast, we can deduce that Agard has very different opinions about war than Owen; while ‘Futility’ targets the uselessness in war, ‘Flag’ aims to question the subliminal foreplay leading up to it; the narrator innocently asks of the unblemished hell raiser that can shred families apart through pain and strife, while still appearing chivalrous to all. Therefore, the narrator does mourn over the deaths, but questions the bona fide malevolence that forced these men to their demise.

I resolutely believe that ‘The Falling Leaves’ is the least effective of the poems, based solely on the fact that Cole creates no real impact with her secluded, first person verdict, unlike that of Agard, who uses the narrator to reflectively unfold his comprehensive philosophical judgement on the initialisation of war. Although all concentrating on conflict, all three poets serve five-star linguistically altered meals, however Cole deteriorates as she offers no analytical dessert. ‘Futility’ and ‘Flag’ now being the centre of attention, we can construe they both uphold impeccable performances with Owen slightly leading; while ‘Flag’ is a forthright brilliant uncovering of the hideous plague, that will stop at nothing to reach its logical conclusion; mass destruction, scorched earth, the end. ‘Futility’ still manages to top this, as it truly is a marvellous, exemplar portrayal of the unrelenting existential crisis that definitively thrashes our lives into a catch-22 scenario, no happy endings, no afterlife, no point; life’s great ‘Futility’.

Compare Mametz wood and futility

Mametz Wood is set 'years afterwards' the war where several decaying corpses have just been discovered, devoid of life and soul, with terror indefinitely etched onto the remains of their faces. Futility is also set in the aftermath but a soldier is dying in the arms of a helpless person, who begins to question the significance of life itself.

The use of language in Mametz Wood such as 'wasted young' and 'nesting machine guns' portrays the poet's sincere yet sorrowful feelings of death in war. Sheers believes the 'young' have 'wasted' their lives fighting in war, when they could've attained much safer jobs, where the risk of death would've been minimal. Sheers' use of 'young' leads the reader to become aware of the issue of the majority of soldiers being youthful, whose lives have just started and albeit their bodies have become fully developed their minds are still juvenile.

In contrast, Wilfred Owen does not use specific words to display his emotions towards these superfluous wars. Instead, Owens utilises rhetorical questions such as 'O what made fatuous sunbeams toil....' Owen is becoming more philosophical towards warfare as the words 'fatuous' and 'toil' suggests he is debating whether life has a specific purpose. If not, why does the sun endeavour to co-operate with plants, ensuring their survival? Is there any point to this at all? Mametz Wood emphasizes the terror and intensity of war by using phrases such as ' socketed heads tilted back at an angle' and 'slipped from their absent tongues.' The fact that their heads are tilted back depicts the power and ferocity of a single potent bullet, that has sufficient energy to break your neck. Their jaws were 'dropped open' implies they were screaming but these screams hadn't been heard until they had been 'unearthed.' This shows that death can happen almost instantly in war. Use of 'to walk, not run' implies how petrified the soldiers were and how war can evoke the fear of death.

However, in Futility, the soldier undergoes a slow, long-lasting death. The keyword 'move' begins the poem with energy (this is ironic as dying soldiers would have little energy). 'Move' suggests that the soldier is paralysed (possibly physically and/or psychologically) and is helpless. Nevertheless, at first, the poet believes the sun will awake him, but the poet then realises this will not happen. The poet asks 'are limbs so dear-achieved...too hard to stir?' His impression of war is now shifting towards Sheers' of 'wasted young.' But in this case, Owen questions why you should create life at all, since it is so difficult to create but easy to kill.

Mametz Wood is written in tercets and in third person. This creates a feeling of detachment as if you are only an observer, watching the events unfold. Sheers' intention may have been for us to draw our own conclusions. Another connotation may have been for us to realise that once death happens to a loved one, it can be long-forgotten in a matter of years, and their life would have become 'fatuous'.

In contrast, Futility is written in a sonnet form, which implies a story is taking place. In this case, the events of death are unfolding. Stories also have a beginning and an end- this is similar to one's life from birth to death. Use of half rhyme causes the poem to seem less formal and more conversational. During the last moments of one's death (similar to this poem), one would talk in a very informal, overt manner to the person dying.

All in all, Mametz Wood has helped me, as the reader, to realise how significant death can be. But this memory gradually dies too. Furtility has led me to wonder too as to what the meaning of life is. Bur one thing for sure, I have realised how despondent a death can make one feel.