Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Wilfred Owen Poems

1. A Palinode 10/31/2015
2. Roundel 11/5/2015
3. The Calls [unfinished] 1/1/2004
4. Hospital Barge At Cerisy 1/1/2004
5. Spells And Incantations 1/3/2003
6. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Artillery Brought Into Action 1/3/2003
7. Beauty: [notes For An Unfinished Poem] 1/1/2004
8. A Terre (Being The Philosophy Of Many Soldiers) 1/3/2003
9. The Roads Also 1/3/2003
10. On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action 12/31/2002
11. Preface 1/3/2003
12. I Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson 1/3/2003
13. O World Of Many Worlds 4/1/2010
14. The Parable Of The Young Man And The Old 1/3/2003
15. My Shy Hand 4/1/2010
16. Antaeus: [a Fragment] 4/1/2010
17. As Bronze May Be Much Beautified 1/3/2003
18. Red Lips Are Not So Red 1/1/2004
19. The Calls 1/3/2003
20. Le Christianisme 1/3/2003
21. Shadwell Stair 4/1/2010
22. Sonnet To My Friend - With An Identity Disc 4/1/2010
23. Miners 1/3/2003
24. The Show 12/31/2002
25. Has Your Soul Sipped? 1/3/2003
26. S.I.W. 1/3/2003
27. Uriconium: An Ode 1/3/2003
28. Training 1/3/2003
29. From My Diary, July 1914 4/1/2010
30. Six O'Clock In Princes Street 1/3/2003
31. The Chances 12/31/2002
32. Schoolmistress 1/3/2003
33. Winter Song 1/3/2003
34. An Imperial Elegy 1/3/2003
35. But I Was Looking At The Permanent Stars 1/3/2003
36. Hospital Barge 1/3/2003
37. Music 1/3/2003
38. Sonnet: On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action 4/1/2010
39. Apologia Pro Poemate Meo 12/31/2002
40. Happiness 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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