Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Wilfred Owen Poems

1. A Palinode 10/31/2015
2. Roundel 11/5/2015
3. Song Of Songs 4/1/2010
4. Shadwell Stair 4/1/2010
5. The Calls [unfinished] 1/1/2004
6. Sonnet To My Friend - With An Identity Disc 4/1/2010
7. Maundy Thursday 4/1/2010
8. My Shy Hand 4/1/2010
9. Sonnet: On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action 4/1/2010
10. On My Songs 4/1/2010
11. Antaeus: [a Fragment] 4/1/2010
12. Spells And Incantations 1/3/2003
13. O World Of Many Worlds 4/1/2010
14. Preface 1/3/2003
15. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Artillery Brought Into Action 1/3/2003
16. Uriconium: An Ode 1/3/2003
17. The Calls 1/3/2003
18. The Roads Also 1/3/2003
19. Storm 4/1/2010
20. Six O'Clock In Princes Street 1/3/2003
21. Training 1/3/2003
22. Red Lips Are Not So Red 1/1/2004
23. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action 12/31/2002
24. The Parable Of The Young Man And The Old 1/3/2003
25. The Unreturning 4/1/2010
26. Hospital Barge At Cerisy 1/1/2004
27. Schoolmistress 1/3/2003
28. The Kind Ghosts 1/3/2003
29. Hospital Barge 1/3/2003
30. The Chances 12/31/2002
31. I Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson 1/3/2003
32. The Show 12/31/2002
33. Music 1/3/2003
34. Has Your Soul Sipped? 1/3/2003
35. Le Christianisme 1/3/2003
36. Beauty: [notes For An Unfinished Poem] 1/1/2004
37. Smile, Smile, Smile 12/31/2002
38. A Terre (Being The Philosophy Of Many Soldiers) 1/3/2003
39. With An Identity Disc 1/3/2003
40. Miners 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Wilfred Owen

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.- ...

Read the full of Dulce Et Decorum Est

The Chances

I mind as 'ow the night afore that show
Us five got talking, -- we was in the know,
"Over the top to-morrer; boys, we're for it,
First wave we are, first ruddy wave; that's tore it."
"Ah well," says Jimmy, -- an' 'e's seen some scrappin' --
"There ain't more nor five things as can 'appen;
Ye get knocked out; else wounded -- bad or cushy;
Scuppered; or nowt except yer feeling mushy."

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