Poetry; Wilfred Owen

 

Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
-Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

Biography

Owen, born on 18th March 1893 in Oswestry, Shropshire, England, died 4^th November 1918 whilst attempting to lead his men across the Sambre canal at Ors. He was just 25 years old.

 As a very young man he had  spent a year as a lay assistant to the Revd Herbert at Dunsden, after this he travelled to Bordeaux, France, and Owen became increasingly aware of the war raging across Europe,  he returned to England in September 1915 with the intent of enlisting. In January 1917 he was posted to France and saw his first action in which he and his men, somehow, and against all odds, managed to hold a flooded dug-out in no-man's land for fifty hours whilst under heavy bombardment. In March he was injured and suffered concussion but returned to the front-line in April. In May he was caught in the middle of a shell-explosion and when his battalion was eventually relieved, he was diagnosed as having shell-shock. He was returned to the UK and on June 26th he arrived at Craiglockhart, War Hospital near Edinburgh. Here he met a man by the name of Siegfied Sassoon, a fellow poet who encouraged him to develop his poetry and introduced him into literary circles. The period in Craiglockhart, and the early part of 1918, was a creative period for him. He wrote much of the poetry he is remembered for today during that period.

In June 1918 he rejoined his regiment at Scarborough and then in August he returned to France. He was awarded the Military Cross for bravery at Amiens, but was killed on the 4th November whilst attempting to lead his men across the Sambre canal at Ors. The news of his death reached his parents on November 11th 1918, the day of the armistice. He was 25.

delete reply bennett1 wrote on Sep 16, '08 How did I miss this? I was introduced to the poetry of Owen by a young man just back from Vietnam. He read me the poetry which mirrored his own feelings on the horrors of war. Since then I have shared Owen's poetry with my father, a veteran of WW2. He also was very moved. The poignancy of these great verses is that they speak to all wars.

delete reply lonewolfwithin wrote on Sep 13, '08 awesome work! thank you for re-opening and sharing this piece from wilfred owens! be well and stay blessed! ^. .^

delete reply luluone wrote on Sep 11, '08 very patriotic thanks for sharing http://luluone.multiply.com/journal/item/218/Poetry_Wednesday_-_Tell_Me_Mein_Schatz

delete reply vickiecollins wrote on Sep 10, '08 Oh my...great poem. http://vickiecollins.multiply.com/journal/item/472/Poetry_Wednesday_Nine-eleven

delete reply jadedruid wrote on Sep 10, '08 Excellent choice and thank you for the biography. To have done so much and been so brave and only 25.

delete reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Sep 10, '08 Thank you for the NY dedication. Despite the fact that the poem is about WW I, my mind, which is so involved with 9/11, read it as the story of any disaster and my association was with the poor souls who lost their lives 7 years ago. We were all shell-shocked by such horror. It was 1 day of war. Thanks, Loretta

delete reply bostonsdandd wrote on Sep 10, '08 The first line hit me like a ton of bricks! What power it holds. I'll refrain from my opinions on the war, and just say this poem was written long ago but it still holds true today. Thanks so much for sharing it with us. http://bostonsdandd.multiply.com/journal/item/196/Poetry_WednesdaySeptember_10thA_Special_MessageBy_Me

delete reply dianahopeless wrote on Sep 10, '08, edited on Sep 10, '08 Not pretty pictures, but ones we should all look at/see to remind us the horrors. I wonder if people will ever learn the right lessons from our pasts. Thank you for sharing this meaningful poem, and beautiful music. http://dianahopeless.multiply.com/journal/item/371/Poetry_Wednesday_The_Tattooed_Man_My_Poem

delete reply sweetpotatoqueen wrote on Sep 10, '08 This poem is a reminder that no one ever wins when violence is used for solving our differences. Left in the aftermath of wars and violent acts are such sadness and grief for the price of human life in exchange for a cause. Will we ever learn? Thank you for this beautiful music ! I stayed and listened with much delight in it's beauty!

delete reply starfishred wrote on Sep 9, '08 WW1 was horrific but I suppose all wars are right-great poem and great pictures

delete reply acousticeagle wrote on Sep 9, '08 The images of death on the battlefields are stark reminders of the atrocity of war. Each year, we Aussies remember our fallen, those who died to keep our country free, on Anzac day. We need to be reminded of how the young are so brutally cut down so we do not give in so easily to warmongering, and any one-sided political reasoning behind it, - soldiers are still being taken in the war in Iraq.

delete reply veryfrank wrote on Sep 9, '08 Stunning poem. I seem to keep being drawn to these young men who died so young and left a legacy to remind us of their sacrifice. My recent blog on John Gillespie Magee, Junior, the author of "High Flight" was very special to me and went by almost unnoticed with few comments. I believe that many do not want to be reminded. Today, we are having memorials for the the people who died on 9/11 in the Pentagon, those almost forgotten, in the shadow of the NY twin towers massacre. There was not a large turnout as expected at the Pentagon, I'm not surprised. Recently I saw the TV movie "My Son Jack," about Kipling's son and his death in war. I am still moved by that film. I see it as such a senseless waste. I decided that I would not have liked Kipling the man very much. Jack was another wasted life.