Tuesday, 16 August 2016

TASK

we have received a new task from our teacher.

1) Search a video on Youtube about any world wars that had happened
2) Write a paragraph of your opinion about war:-
     Why did war happen?
     What are the effects of war?
      Besides war, how can a citizen show his/her sense of patriotism towards the country?

Wednesday, 30 March 2016

THEME OF THE POEM


  • The positive image people create in remembrance of a departed person
  • Coping with grief and loss-one way is to hang on the good memories of the person
  • Death is a part of life
  • Love knows no boundaries

SOME QUESTION 4 YOU GUYS



  1. Why do you think the persona describe the place that grandmothers go as horrible?
  2. Name one moral value you have gain from the poem.Provide evidence from the text that shows this moral value.                                                   Evidence:
  3. What does the line,white hand in black hand suggest?
  4. If you're the pesona,what you'll feel if that happened to you?subscribe it.
     

PERSONAL OPINION

In opinion, this poem can make use realize about the importance of family value. We should love our family even though they came from different races. The family has fallen apart, we should mend the bond again. 
However, when we lost someone who we really love, they are still in our heart. 

Another reminder from this poem is death. We all know that one day, everyone will die. but the love one's death will never die in our hearts even when we say
" To me, my  love has already gone and dead in my memory."

So, we should never forget our beloved ones. Instead, we should always remember our happy memories with our beloved ones.

That's all.  I think you guys should give your own opinion too.

MORAL VALUES OF THE LIVING PHOTOGRAPH

  • We must strive for close family relationships
  • We should love and appreciate our family members while they are still alive
  • We must not dwell on the past too much
  • we should learn to let go of the dead                 

Thursday, 28 January 2016

THE LIVING PHOTOGRAPH BY JACKIE KAY - FROM TEAM ENGLISH HACKERS

Wow... we have never got a project like this. we hardly can't believe that we have to create a blog together. Thanks to the members who work together and helping on the same time to get this project done.

   Clearly, this project has to do something with form 4 students and blog creators are form 4. So, it obvious that you readers want to gain knowledge or information as a reference. Isn't it.




   There you go. The literature text book that will be using for this year.


                                                     


and that is the poem that we will be sharing with you and so on. The title is ' The Living Photograph'. Hopefully, all readers would continue reading the contents and enjoy it. To all the readers, wish us good luck on this project 'coz'

If there are a hundred people who success, I am among them,
If there are ten people who success, I am the first,
And if there is one person who is successful, I am the one.

# # #


 Author Biography
Jackie Kay3.JPG
Jackie Kay was born in Edinburgh in 1961 to a Scottish mother and a Nigerian father. She was adopted as a baby by a white Scottish couple, Helen and John Kay, and grew up in Bishopbriggs, a suburb of Glasgow, in a 1950's-built housing estate in a small Wimpeyhouse, which her adoptive parents had bought new in 1957. They adopted Kay in 1961 having already adopted Jackie's brother, Maxwell, about two years earlier. Jackie and Maxwell also have siblings who were brought up by their biological parents. Her adoptive father worked for the Communist Party full-time and stood for Member of Parliament, and her adoptive mother was the Scottish secretary of Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. In August 2007, Jackie Kay was the subject of the fourth episode of the BBC Radio 4 series The House I Grew Up In, in which she talked about her childhood.

 The Living Photograph

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. 
Her big hand holds mine, 
white hand in black hand. 
Her sharp blue eyes look her own death in the eye.

It was true after all that look. 
My tall grandmother became small. 
Her back round and hunched. 
Her soup forgo to boil. 
She went to the awful place grandmothers go. 
Somewhere unknown, unthinkable.

But there she is still, 
in the photo with me at three, 
the crinkled smile is still living ,breathing.

THE SONG THAT RELATED WITH THE POEM
   Photograph by Ed Sheeran