Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Wilfred Owen
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Wilfred Owen was born near Oswestry, Shropshire, where his father worked on the railway. He was educated at the Birkenhead Institute, Liverpool and Shrewsbury Technical College. He worked as a pupil-teacher in a poor country parish before a shortage of money forced him to drop his hopes of studying at the University of London and take up a teaching post in Bordeaux (1913). He was tutoring in the Pyrenees when war was declared and enlisted as shortly afterwards.

In 1917 he suffered severe concussion and 'trench-fever' whilst fighting on the Somme and spent a period recuperating at Craiglockart War Hospital, near Edinburgh. It was he that he met Siegfried Sassoon who read his poems,... more »

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Comments about Wilfred Owen

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  • boi.. (12/3/2018 5:27:00 AM)

    You: hey birb, you want som seed?
    Birb: YOSH
    You: WOOPS (Drops seed in bin)

  • Tijn Vaessen (12/3/2018 2:23:00 AM)

    Honestly, what a beautiful poem. I've got tears in my eyes when I first saw it. I'm black, so these poems really speak to me. My people have been oppressed for way too long, and Wilfred Owen shows that our struggle has led to a better future. Every night, as I smoke a dank wierie, I read this poem. Absolutely wonderful.

  • 6ix9ine (11/27/2018 5:45:00 AM)

    i cant wait to drop the soap

  • commenter (11/19/2018 6:12:00 PM)

    people can be really disrespectful, wow man

  • JohnO (11/18/2018 7:01:00 PM)

    There really are some sick minds in this world and it seems most of them are leaving comments here.

  • afdhwwww (11/16/2018 6:16:00 AM)

    be respectful for the war

  • Jeff bangladesh (11/12/2018 1:02:00 PM)

    Pubg is for losers that are gay and sickness

  • AndyE (11/7/2018 7:34:00 AM)

    Play Up Play Up, is a great Pro War poem pro war poem, completely playing down any negatives.

  • dan in the van (11/6/2018 5:55:00 AM)

    I pick up and run over disabled people

  • your local pedo (11/6/2018 5:53:00 AM)

    I love running over downeys

Read all 123 comments »
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
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