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Two short poems by English poet Wilfred Owen, who died in WWI.

Anthem for Doomed Youth

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 goodbyes.
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.


Arms and the Boy

Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade
How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;
Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.

Lend him to stroke these blind, blunt bullet-leads,
Which long to nuzzle in the hearts of lads,
Or give him cartridges of fine zinc teeth
Sharp with the sharpness of grief and death.

For his teeth seem for laughing round an apple.
There lurk no claws behind his fingers supple;
And God will grow no talons at his heels,
Nor antlers through the thickness of his curls.

Good selection, Greg. I find WW1 an even more tragic war than other wars partly due to poems like these.

Leslie wrote: "Good selection, Greg. I find WW1 an even more tragic war than other wars partly due to poems like these."

Thanks Leslie. I think he was a brilliant poet; so sad he didn't survive the war.

Leslie wrote: "Good selection, Greg. I find WW1 an even more tragic war than other wars partly due to poems like these."

Probably you're right Leslie. It certainly was the first of the big wars that entered into families. We have our Ungaretti, a nobel prize, who entered it as volounteer, and after described it in its horrors. With few words...
Famous his "Soldati - Soldiers"

Si sta come
d'autunno
sugli alberi
le foglie


It's like being
in the autumn
on the trees
the leaves

(Translated by M. Tanzy)

WOW! Poetry and still-photography convey the horror of war more powerfully than novels or films, I think.

Joan wrote: "WOW! Poetry and still-photography convey the horror of war more powerfully than novels or films, I think."

I agree Joan! - it's downright eerie looking at some of those old war photographs. Though All Quiet on the Western Front is extremely good too, probably the best war novel I've ever read because it maintains a sense of human intimacy amidst the horror that makes it feel real. That's what I feel in Owen's poems too - a combination of horror and tenderness that's so affecting.

Thanks, Greg. I'm always moved by Owen's poetry.

Thought you may be interested in this link between Owen and Scarborough, where I live:

The innocence of childhood robbed by war. So poignant, as you can tell the second one was my favorite.

Diane S � wrote: "The innocence of childhood robbed by war. So poignant, as you can tell the second one was my favorite."

It's my favorite too Diane!

Gill wrote: "Thought you may be interested in this link between Owen and Scarborough, where I live:

"

Thanks so much for the link Gill! If I lived there, I'd love to go see the plaque and whatever they had there. :) Have you ever been in that hotel?

Greg wrote: "Gill wrote: "Thought you may be interested in this link between Owen and Scarborough, where I live:

"

Thanks so much for the link Gill! I..."

Yes, Greg. It's about 300 yards from where we live. I'll have a look to see if I can find any more info about it.