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

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

    i like chicken
    WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

    4 person liked.
    10 person did not like.
  • 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

  • eeeee (6/18/2018 9:47:00 PM)

    EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

  • Skrr Skrr man 69 (6/11/2018 7:45:00 AM)

    This poem gave me HIV

  • InfectedWolf (6/5/2018 3:23:00 AM)

    i have just learnt about Wilfred with in two days of rummaging the internet

  • yodeling walmart kid (5/30/2018 8:29:00 PM)

    lord i dunno what i doooooooooo. allllll i dooo is sit insiiiiiiiidddeee.

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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