Jawapan

2015-02-15T12:59:53+08:00

Ini Jawapan Diperakui

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Jawapan diperakui mengandungi maklumat yang boleh dipercayai dan diharapkan yang dijamin dipilih dengan teliti oleh sepasukan pakar. Brainly mempunyai berjuta-juta jawapan berkualiti tinggi, semuanya disederhanakan dengan teliti oleh ahli komuniti kami yang paling dipercayai, tetapi jawapan diperakui adalah terbaik di kalangan terbaik.
The living photograph is actually a poem about a grandchild who really miss the grandmother. it is about the family relationship between grandchild and the grandmother. the way the persona describe the grandmother show that the persona was so close with the grandmother until the last moment of the grandmother life which the grandchild stay beside her and we can take that from "her big hand holds mine". the way the persona describe the other world was somewhere awful, unknown and unthinkable shown the persona was thoughtful.
hope this answer could help you to understand the poem
14 3 14
thank you very much!
Thank you very much ^^
2015-02-15T13:07:36+08:00

Ini Jawapan Diperakui

×
Jawapan diperakui mengandungi maklumat yang boleh dipercayai dan diharapkan yang dijamin dipilih dengan teliti oleh sepasukan pakar. Brainly mempunyai berjuta-juta jawapan berkualiti tinggi, semuanya disederhanakan dengan teliti oleh ahli komuniti kami yang paling dipercayai, tetapi jawapan diperakui adalah terbaik di kalangan terbaik.
My small grandmother is tall there,
straight-back, white broderie anglaise shirt,
pleated skirt, flat shoes, grey bun,
a kind, old smile round her eyes.
The first four lines described the grandmother's physical appearance.
(duh)
Her big hand holds mine,
white hand in black hand.
White hand represents the poet's youth, purity, and innocence.
Black hand represents that the grandmother is experienced, an old soul, and has been through a lot, yknow, since she's old.
Her sharp blue eyes look her own death in the eye.
The grandmother is dying.
(again, duh, kinda obvious isn't it)


It was true after all; that look.
My tall grandmother became small.
Her back round and hunched.
The grandmother's physical appearance went she was in the jaws of death.
Her soup forgot to boil.
The grandmother is too ill, she could no longer take care of herself.
She went to the awful place grandmothers go.
She died.
Somewhere unknown, unthinkable.
The afterlife.

But there she is still,
in the photo with me at three,
the crinkled smile is still living, breathing.
The poet's memory of her grandmother is still fresh and new.

Jackie Kay

Hope I helped.
19 4 19
daebak
Thank you very much for lend me a help.