poetry, war, family, homosexuality, spirituality, opera..............

[mint]

It's all here!  Norman, tu es là?

[url]https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/jul/25/siegfried-sassoon-opera-silver-birch-sister-jessica-gatty[/url]

[woolybanana]

Nah, just watch Coronation Street, much better!

[NormanH]

Strangely enough my ex-wife's aunt was a member of the Assumption order, but she came out some while before Jessica entered, in reaction to Vatican 2 changes...

She had been in the teacher-training part in Kensington I believe.

[Patf]

It sounds like a lot of fun, Mint [:)]

I don't know much about modern opera, but when in London a few years ago daughter took me to a talk by the ?producer of a new West End production of B. Britten's  War Requiem. She had a couple of the soloists too, who sang snippets of their solos.

I know it sounds narrow-minded, but it put me off completely. I just don't like opera - taste in music is very individual.

But Seigfreid Sassoon - I don't know his poetry, but we had Wilfred Owen's poetry as a set book at english A level, and I thought it was fantastic. The poor man was killed right at the end of WW1.

[NormanH]

His poetry was rather more sardonic and ironic than that of Owen

Glory of Women

You love us when we're heroes, home on leave,


Or wounded in a mentionable place.


You worship decorations; you believe


That chivalry redeems the war's disgrace.


You make us shells. You listen with delight,


By tales of dirt and danger fondly thrilled.


You crown our distant ardours while we fight,


And mourn our laurelled memories when we're killed.


You can't believe that British troops “retire”


When hell's last horror breaks them, and they run,


Trampling the terrible corpses—blind with blood.


    O German mother dreaming by the fire,


    While you are knitting socks to send your son


    His face is trodden deeper in the mud.

or

The General

“Good-morning, good-morning!” the General said

When we met him last week on our way to the line.

Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of 'em dead,

And we're cursing his staff for incompetent swine.

“He's a cheery old card,” grunted Harry to Jack

As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

But he did for them both by his plan of attack.