abertawe_ram Posted November 10, 2013 Share Posted November 10, 2013 As far as I know there isn't a poetry thread on the forum. Does anyone else have an interest in poetry? Well if so here's a place to share favourite works by poets you like. Classics, moderns, performance. Romantic, political, comic, whatever you like... With it being Remembrance Sunday, I thought I'd start with one of Wilfred Owen's incredible poems about the horrors and devastation of war. DULCE ET DECORUM EST(1) Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs And towards our distant rest(3) 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(4) Of tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind. Gas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets(8) just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . . Dim, through the misty panes(10) and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering,(11) choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud(12) Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, My friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13) To children ardent(14) for some desperate glory, The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori.(15) Wilfred Owen 8 October 1917 - March, 1918 http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/owen1.html Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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