There are fifteen poems in the GCSE Power & Conflict anthology.

For your exam, you will be given one poem in full, printed on the page, and you will be asked to compare this poem to another from the anthology.

All of the GCSE English Literature course is closed-book, meaning that you will need to learn at least three lines from each poem.

It is possible to get top marks for this question by making sure that you know the following:

• What the poem is about

• What the poem means

• The methods the poet uses to convey their message

• The links between the ideas of other poems in the anthology

Synposis

Whatever the question is, it is important that you understand what the poem is about. This will support you in adapting your argument to fit the focus of the question. This section includes:

• A general overview of the poem

• A detailed look at the poem line-by-line

• Analysis of the poem, giving Simon Armitage’s intention and message

A General Overview of the Poem

Remains explores the psychology of soldiers who have to live with the consequences of doing their duty and the decisions they have to make. The speaker, a soldier, recalls the shooting of a looter in an unknown context by the speaker’s fellow soldiers and himself, and the psychological fallout from such an event. The poem explores the nature of guilt and trauma in real terms.

Line-by-Line

On another occasion, we get sent out

to tackle looters raiding a bank.

And one of them legs it up the road,

probably armed, possibly not.

The poem opens with a temporal marker, “On another occasion”, giving the sense of an ongoing narrative, which is reinforced by the deictic “we”, so a reader has no doubt that this is not ‘the beginning’ of the grander narrative – but it is nevertheless worthy of rendering in poetry, lending a sense of significance to it. The grammar of the first line’s main verb is striking – “we get sent out” is passive, with an unnamed figure apparently doing the ‘sending’. This immediately sets the stage for an abnegation of responsibility on the part of the speaker. The phrase, which will become a repeated refrain, of “probably armed, possibly not”, reinforces this theme.

The language is decidedly colloquial, with the verbs “tackle” and “legs it” chosen over more formal ‘manage’ and ‘flees’ that might be expected from a professional reporting officially. An audience is therefore led to believe that this narrative comes as part of a more informal conversation – and further that it is delivered by someone more ‘rough and ready’ with experience at the ground level. 

Well myself and somebody else and somebody else

are all of the same mind,

so all three of us open fire.

In this moment, the speaker continues to spread the responsibility for the central act of the poem instead of owning it. The sentence’s main focus, “[we] open fire” is delayed by the triple reassertion that it was not his decision to do so: “myself and somebody else and somebody else”; “all of the same mind”; and “all three of us”. It is excessive in its repetition, creating a distinct sense of shame.

Three of a kind all letting fly, and I swear

I see every round as it rips through his life—

I see broad daylight on the other side.

The next sentence switches from a focus on plural culpability to personal experience: three instances of the pronoun “I”. Notably, though, these all refer to a reaction to what has happened, rather than an admission of guilt; “I swear” and “I see” (twice). Additionally, even this sentence begins with yet another reassertion of “Three of a kind” as the agents of the attack. 

The description of the speaker’s reaction to the shooting is emotive. The “round[s] rip[...] through his life” rather than his body, and “broad daylight” can be seen through the bulletholes. Clearly, the event was traumatic to be a part of, even if at this point only seeming like a witness.

So we've hit this looter a dozen times

and he's there on the ground, sort of inside out,

pain itself, the image of agony.

The soldiers (including the speaker) have hit “this [unnamed] looter a dozen times” it seems (so maybe four direct hits each, suggesting excessive force). What follows is a stacked sequence of phrases about the wounded looter, five in total: “there”, “on the ground”, “inside out”, “pain itself”, and “the image of agony”. The asyndetic and excessive nature of these adverbials and appositional noun phrases serve to depict the speaker’s utter horror at what he has seen.

One of my mates goes by

and tosses his guts back into his body.

Then he's carted off in the back of a lorry.

End of story, except not really.

The speaker’s language, here, is disturbing in its casualness. The phrase “One of my mates” that begins the sentence is light, even jovial, and contrasts horrifyingly with the visceral imagery of him “toss[ing] his guts back into his body”. The language continues in this vein of dehumanisation, with the body being “carted off in the back of a lorry” like a thing, not a person. 

The short sentence that follows is a microcosm of the whole poem: “End of story, except not really”. The “End of story” comment is light, tying in with the colloquial and casual nature of most of the speaker’s diction, and the brief coverage of the event itself. The appended “except not really” comes in to undermine the sense of calm resolution. The trauma is far from over and will continue to haunt the speaker.

His blood-shadow stays on the street, and out on patrol

I walk right over it week after week.

Then I'm home on leave. But I blink

and he bursts again through the doors of the bank.

Sleep, and he's probably armed, possibly not.

Dream, and he's torn apart by a dozen rounds.

What follows is the exploration of the speaker’s apparent PTSD. We see the physical remnants of the event, the “blood-shadow” that “stays on the street”, and then we the psychological ones, when he “blink[s]”, when he “Sleep[s]” and when he “Dream[s]”, and relives the event in the same language from before (“probably armed, possibly not” and “dozen rounds”). The verbs are jarring and violent, representing the horror of reliving the event: “bursts [...] through” and “torn apart”. The polysyndeton (the excessive tripling of “and”), coupled with the first caesura of the poem (“home on leave. But I blink”), creates a stream-of-consciousness effect that brings the trauma to life.

And the drink and the drugs won't flush him out—

he's here in my head when I close my eyes,

dug in behind enemy lines,

These two lines reinforce the persistent nature of his trauma. There is yet another use of “And” to continue the chaotic thinking and a direct assertion that the memory can’t be “flush[ed] out” by “drink and [...] drugs”. It is reaffirmed in military terms, “dug in behind enemy lines”, to show the pugnacity of enduring trauma.

not left for dead in some distant, sun-stunned, sand-smothered land

or six-feet-under in desert sand,

but near to the knuckle, here and now,

his bloody life in my bloody hands.

The soldier-speaker makes clear in the final lines how much easier it would be to move on from the events if they were not in his home country/city. The memory is alive because it is “near to the knuckle” and in the “here and now”, instead of “some distant, sun-stunned, sand-smothered land” where it could be “left for dead [...] six-feet-under in desert sand”. Domestic urban pacification, which is what this event must have been, is close to home and therefore harder to compartmentalise. 

The final line has the speaker finally taking accountability for the shooting: “his bloody life in my bloody hands”. The catharsis is tangible, with the polysemy of “bloody”: both blood-covered and the expletive ‘bloody’.

Writer’s Methods

This section aims to support your revision by providing you with concrete and clear examples of methods that Simon Armitage uses. 

Remember: methods support meaning, not the other way round. You will gain more marks focusing your essays on the big ideas of the poems and then supporting these ideas with the methods that the writer uses.

Form

The poem is one, long, unbroken stanza. Its lines are unbroken sentences (that is, they run over multiple lines: enjambement). As such, the writing is very prosaic (meaning prose-like), suiting the confessional and unpoetic tone of the interviewed soldier; it reads like someone speaking. It is almost entirely rhymeless and without meter, with the free verse form serving to heighten the verisimilitude of the expression. It feels authentic, barely elevated above prose except in its brutal imagery.

Structure

Just over half of the poem tells the story of the shooting, and the remainder is the psychological aftermath. Despite the action being as clear-cut as shooting a bank looter and taking his body from the scene, 16 of the poem’s 30 lines are given over to the restating of these brief moments: four times mentioning the shooting; five layered phrases describing the looter’s reaction. The proportion of the poem given over to this narration, and the three versions of reliving the event in the second part, contribute to the sense of a repetitive, traumatic engagement with what the speaker has done.

Language

The most consistent language feature of note is the use of colloquial language from the speaker. Throughout the poem, idioms like “legs it”, “letting fly”, “broad daylight”, “sort of inside out”, “flush him out”, and “near to the knuckle, here and now” are used, alongside casual discourse markers like “Well” and “So”, to paint the speaker as very human – and not very articulate. He lacks the fluency of speech to make this narration poetic, and Armitage capitalises on that to draw attention to the disparity between the speaker’s simple, addled mind, and the gravity of the situation: ending the life of someone assumed “armed” in a split-second decision.

Context

At MyEdSpace, we use this analogy to discuss context – ketchup, salt and chips.

If you ordered a portion of chips, and asked for salt, you wouldn’t then dump the salt into the corner of your chips and start dipping each individual chip into the salt. 

When you put salt on your chips, you sprinkle it over, sparingly, so as to give a good coverage of salt across the chips as a whole. Context is just like salt on chips. 

Context is not ketchup – because it would be appropriate to squeeze ketchup into the corner of your plate and dip each chip in (and in fact, that is advised).

So when you’re including contextual information in your essays, sprinkle it across the essay, just like you sprinkle salt on your chips.

Let’s link the context to the key ideas and themes of the poem.

Biographical Insight

Simon Armitage (current poet Laureate, since 2019) interviewed soldiers who had served in a number of conflicts and turned their stories into a collection of poems, ‘The Not Dead’ (2008), using free verse and prosaic writing to preserve the authenticity of the narratives, and taking an unflinching look at the justifiability of war and the effects of PTSD.

Specific International Background

More specifically, this narrative is set against the backdrop of the Iraq war (2003), a war we started, alongside the US, invading the country for highly controversial reasons.

Comparison

You are required to write an essay in your exam that is a comparison of the ideas and themes explored in two poems from the Power & Conflict anthology. Therefore, it is very important to revise the poems in pairs and to enter the exam with an idea of what poem you will choose to compare once you know what the named poem is.

Remains and War Photographer

Both poems explore the impact of war on those uninjured by the conflict, but very much involved and culpable. Both poems have speakers who attempt to justify their behaviour in the war zone whilst managing their own shame. However, Remains focuses on the processing of guilt that comes from an actual murder within the role as a keeper of the peace, whilst War Photographer focuses on the guilt associated with making a living out of a kind of exploitation of those directly affected by war.

Similarity:

Both poems depict attempts to justify their behaviour and shrink their responsibility.

Evidence and Analysis 

Armitage’s poem presents a soldier whose shame around killing a looter has evidently led him to resolve cognitive dissonance by spreading responsibility among peers. The speaker dwells on the collective responsibility for the shooting (“we”, “myself and somebody else and somebody else”, “all three of us”, etc.) instead of the reality that is the “blood[ on his] hands” that is only ever acknowledged in the final line. The use of plural pronouns (“we”, “us”, etc.) shows an (understandable) unwillingness to face responsibility for murder.

Duffy’s poem conveys a photographer whose emotional detachment from his work is a necessary contributor to its success. He justifies his “impassive[ness]” with the apologism of “ha[ving] a job to do”, returning home to where “simple weather can dispel” any emotional pain. There is candour, admitting to being impassive, balanced uncomfortably with an attempt to mitigate his shame, creating a sense of emotional instability which unsettles the reader.

Difference:

The poets present different extents of culpability relative to the severity of the respective speaker’s moral transgression.

Evidence and Analysis

Simon Armitage’s speaker has literally killed somebody, and as such the imagery is brutal and the trauma response extreme. The event itself is narrated with moments of visceral declarations, like bullets “rip[ping] through [the looter’s] life”, the victim being “sort of inside out”, and how his “guts” are “tosse[d] back into his body” – and the aftermath comes back to him with force: “he bursts again” into the speaker’s head and is “torn apart by a dozen rounds”. The verbs, “rips”, “tosses”, “bursts”, “torn apart”, are all stirringly violent, showing the extent of the trauma.

Contrastingly, in Duffy’s poem, the speaker’s engagement with war is less direct and thus more excusable.

In her poem, the photographer engages with war as a documentarian, not a killer, and so his apologism is more tolerable to the reader’s sensibility – albeit only somewhat. The speaker opines that the war photographer “has a job to do” and it is doing “what someone must”. At the same time, he acknowledges the suffering (“running children in a nightmare heat”) and his immunity to it (“fields which don’t explode”). The sense of obligation, coupled with the humanity expressed, as well as the resentment (“they do not care”), paint the war photographer in a slightly better light.