Hyperbole-
is a exaggeration in which a statement is stretched and not to be taken literally
Hyperboles are an important part of
writing because they emphasis the meaning or the literature and it also helps
in developing the feeling of the literature
Television by Roald Dahl
The most important thing we've
learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the
screen.
They loll and slop and lounge
about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and
sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly
junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them
still,
They don't climb out the window
sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the
lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND
FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All
right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please
explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves
contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ!
They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott!
Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading
books!
The nursery shelves held books
galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery
floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic
tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and
whales
And treasure isles, and distant
shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled
oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the
pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to
know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we
pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of
books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites
and kicks,
And children hitting you with
sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh
boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll
grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever
seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you
did.
The
tone of this poem is hatred or dislike towards televisions and the impact it
has had on the children.
The mood
of the story is aggravated and disappointed.
The meaning
of this poem is that the imagination and the creativity of the children of
today are being lost to the TV and that minds are being wasted due to the
creation of the TV.
Jacinta Ramayah, Malaysia
THE OLYMPIC RUNNER (7 Oct 2009)
The sun beat down so hard it burnt his back,
His feet ate the dust as he ran the endless track,
The wind gave him wings and the miles flew by,
He was gunning for gold, for victory he’d die.
Critics had a field day when he entered the arena,
They could have knocked him down with a feather,
“Sideways you can’t see him through a 50-cent
coin,
Bones on a cold carcass make up his manly loin.”
“His feet so long he will surely fall flat on his face,
Legs stretch down like two bamboo poles in place,
From the land of famine he gets not his daily bread,
If he wins, we’ll eat our hats,” in mockery
they said.
As he touched the finish line, the crowd went wild,
Cheers heard across the land by every man and
child,
His heartbeats so erratic they were beating out
of time
If he could take a shot at his critics it’d be no crime.
Sweat streamed down, pooled like rivulets on the floor,
A warrior back from the battlefield,
battered and sore,
Standing tall as a Brobdingnagian, the anthem sung
The joy so sweet, he could taste it on his
tongue.
He was so tired he felt he could sleep for a year
The cynics struck dumb, had no cause to jeer,
‘A man in a million’ were the headlines that day
“Not a mere man but a giant in spirit,” they say.
The tone of this poem is determined and optimistic.
The mood of the poem is willful and improbable (all
odds are against the runner)
The meaning of this poem is that even when no one is with you
or has hope in you, you can still accomplish anything if you just have faith in
yourself.
