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Discover Wilfred Owen famous and rare quotes. Share Wilfred Owen quotations about war, lying and glory. "I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject..."
Jan 10, 2018 · Here’s our pick of Wilfred Owen’s ten best poems. 1. ‘ Futility ’. Move him into the sun –. Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now.
- “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 our backs.
- “Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.” ― Wilfred Owen, The Poems of Wilfred Owen.
- “And you have fixed my life — however short. You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but I shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze.”
- “The old Lie:Dulce et decorum est. Pro patria mori.” ― Wilfred Owen.
Wilfred Owen's poignant quote, "My friend, you would not tell with such high zest/ To children ardent for some desperate glory,/ The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est/ Pro patria mori," encapsulates the disillusionment and profound anti-war sentiment that characterized his poetry.
- Wilfred Owen, Jon Stallworthy
- 1985
- “Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs. And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
- “If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood. Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs. Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud. Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
- “The universal pervasion of ugliness, hideous landscapes, vile noises, foul language... everything. Unnatural, broken, blasted; the distortion of the dead, whose unburiable bodies sit outside the dug outs all day, all night, the most execrable sights on earth.
- “Consummation is consumption. We cannot consummate our bliss and not consume. All joys are cakes and vanish in eating. All bliss is sugar's melting in the mouth”
Dulce et Decorum Est. By Wilfred Owen. Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod.
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The one poem which can clearly be called a love poem, “To A Friend (With an Identity Disc),” carefully avoids the use of either specifically masculine or feminine terms in addressing the friend. Eroticism in Owen’s poems seems idealized, romantic, and platonic and is used frequently to contrast the ugly and horrible aspects of warfare.
