Wilfred Owen

(1893-1918 / Shropshire / England)

Wilfred Owen Poems

81. Anthem For Doomed Youth 12/31/2002
82. Dulce Et Decorum Est 12/31/2002

Comments about Wilfred Owen

  • Police (10/24/2018 8:10:00 AM)

    I will be reporting any suspicious crime that happens on this website

    Yours gratefully
    PC Jhon

    8 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • Parameswaran Nair Damodaran.Nair (10/20/2018 7:43:00 AM)

    War experience of the poet made him think about an underpath leading to the world of death. While passing through it he came across an enemy soldier who killed the soldier-poet with a bayonet. Though he was the enemy the poet extends a friendly attitude depicting his mindset against wars which are disastrous to humanity.

  • What? ? ? (10/18/2018 4:26:00 AM)

    To think brave men died to give the piles of dung commenting here freedom to express themselves, time to bring in euthanasia

  • student 13 (10/17/2018 6:34:00 PM)

    does anyone know any poems that support war? i need to compare for and against war poems for school and i cant find anything. will be greatly appreciated if someone can help :)

  • wilfred owen (10/12/2018 8:32:00 AM)

    u alright my G's. I'm not dead im a year 9 boi. LIke for free Vbucks
    M = Dog

  • Shrek (10/12/2018 8:09:00 AM)

    Join my religion mt fellow ogres/onions

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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

Le Christianisme

So the church Christ was hit and buried
Under its rubbish and its rubble.
In cellars, packed-up saints long serried,
Well out of hearing of our trouble.

One Virgin still immaculate
Smiles on for war to flatter her.
She's halo'd with an old tin hat,
But a piece of hell will batter her.

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