Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Wilfred Owen Poems

1. Roundel 11/5/2015
2. A Palinode 10/31/2015
3. Song Of Songs 4/1/2010
4. Maundy Thursday 4/1/2010
5. On My Songs 4/1/2010
6. My Shy Hand 4/1/2010
7. Sonnet To My Friend - With An Identity Disc 4/1/2010
8. The Calls [unfinished] 1/1/2004
9. Shadwell Stair 4/1/2010
10. Sonnet: On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action 4/1/2010
11. Antaeus: [a Fragment] 4/1/2010
12. O World Of Many Worlds 4/1/2010
13. Spells And Incantations 1/3/2003
14. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Artillery Brought Into Action 1/3/2003
15. Storm 4/1/2010
16. The Calls 1/3/2003
17. Preface 1/3/2003
18. Red Lips Are Not So Red 1/1/2004
19. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action 12/31/2002
20. Uriconium: An Ode 1/3/2003
21. Training 1/3/2003
22. The Unreturning 4/1/2010
23. Six O'Clock In Princes Street 1/3/2003
24. The Parable Of The Young Man And The Old 1/3/2003
25. The Roads Also 1/3/2003
26. Music 1/3/2003
27. Hospital Barge At Cerisy 1/1/2004
28. Miners 1/3/2003
29. The Dead-Beat 12/31/2002
30. Le Christianisme 1/3/2003
31. The Kind Ghosts 1/3/2003
32. I Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson 1/3/2003
33. Has Your Soul Sipped? 1/3/2003
34. From My Diary, July 1914 4/1/2010
35. Winter Song 1/3/2003
36. With An Identity Disc 1/3/2003
37. Happiness 1/3/2003
38. Hospital Barge 1/3/2003
39. The Chances 12/31/2002
40. Smile, Smile, Smile 12/31/2002
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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