Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Comments about Wilfred Owen

  • am lern wilfred owen (7/17/2018 5:51:00 AM)

    hi im lern some wilfred owen at my school
    im only 6 sor for bad gremer

    0 person liked.
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  • iZZZZ YABOY (6/27/2018 3:52:00 AM)

    this gezZa should DIE OH WAIT HE IS ALREADY DEAD? ? ? ?

  • REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE (6/27/2018 3:45:00 AM)

    REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

  • Adam dani (6/27/2018 3:45:00 AM)

    I like big peepeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

  • John Travolta (6/27/2018 3:40:00 AM)

    i like chicken
    WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

  • 4 panelled meme (6/24/2018 7:29:00 PM)

    Is this loss? Is this loss? Is this loss?

  • xxxtentacion (6/21/2018 9:51:00 AM)

    i was shot guys I'm not alive sorry so don't keep your hopes up. Keep living it, love you guys

  • xxxtentacion (6/21/2018 9:48:00 AM)

    ding dong* lmaoooooo

  • xxxtentacion (6/21/2018 9:47:00 AM)

    Can't keep my in my pants

  • your m o t h e r (6/21/2018 9:19:00 AM)

    thou art gay :) Wilfred was a good nib

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

Hospital Barge

Budging the sluggard ripples of the Somme,
A barge round old Cérisy slowly slewed.
Softly her engines down the current screwed,
And chuckled softly with contented hum,
Till fairy tinklings struck their croonings dumb.
The waters rumpling at the stern subdued;
The lock-gate took her bulging amplitude;
Gently from out the gurgling lock she swum.

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