Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Comments about Wilfred Owen

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

    Pubg is for losers that are gay and sickness

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  • 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

  • Helen Keller (11/6/2018 5:47:00 AM)

    gilughiuaweai7uwiefgaywrfghawifgyweygsidugwetfgweisg'IOUEGAWYH7rfgsygfv64uyrgwfguydgzfyfger7iftgsuyzdfgwuieyfgzsiydfgzwyfgwyfggyfsdgyuyuyuyuyuf7; wariafgyvgzdsyvs\fgaw2iufhawz79; ifvtgzsd; fgas; iup; 7gf; agfwe; gfgw\7fgae9i7ftywag; ; ysad; 879aw; fgasd'7t3q

  • My dad hits me (11/6/2018 5:45:00 AM)

    I think I hear my dad outside

  • oi oi silly (11/6/2018 5:44:00 AM)

    agreed so true :)

    dab dab
    rawr xd

  • i like kids (11/6/2018 5:38:00 AM)

    jessi pope is one for war

  • fortnite is gay (11/6/2018 5:26:00 AM)

    he guys lets hang all the autistics

  • Bijay Kant Dubey Bijay Kant Dubey (11/5/2018 2:40:00 PM)

    Wilfred Owen is a poet connected with the horror and terror of war, brutal modern wars which take a toll heavily upon the soldiers, cutting down their precious lives for victory and gain. Away from their homes, they die as cattle and this twitches the heart of the poet. What can this war give to? those who get killed are they not men? This is but the element of pity; this but the element of humanity in him. Owen is not a poet of wars, but truces, pacts, treaties.

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


This book is not about heroes. English Poetry is not yet fit to speak
of them. Nor is it about deeds or lands, nor anything about glory, honour,
dominion or power,
except War.
Above all, this book is not concerned with Poetry.
The subject of it is War, and the pity of War.
The Poetry is in the pity.
Yet these elegies are not to this generation,
This is in no sense consolatory.

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