Orbler
Byron Twain
Brenton
Dexter
Jeanne Dininni
Shilpa KarhikAnthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen
November 7th 2007 00:20
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 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.
History repeats, truth universal,
Enamoured children to the slaughterhouse, vile combat.
Unchanged duty, undying destruction,
Centuries of weapons of death refined.
A redundant cycle of carnage underachieving.
Bullets sever flesh, where rocks once, arrows to murder.
Pointless accolades, heroic villainy,
Life torn violently, Nagasaki annihilated dreams.
Mourning for youth, for love, for family,
Nothing justified, pain inflicted on ally and foe,
The paradox of sanctioned assassins, life’s lessons never,
Execution of souls, eternal loss weeps.
By Wilfred Owen
Wilfred Owen - The Wartime poet
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 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.
Wilfred Owen's Regiment
Review in poem by Dexter
History repeats, truth universal,
Enamoured children to the slaughterhouse, vile combat.
Unchanged duty, undying destruction,
Centuries of weapons of death refined.
A redundant cycle of carnage underachieving.
Bullets sever flesh, where rocks once, arrows to murder.
Pointless accolades, heroic villainy,
Life torn violently, Nagasaki annihilated dreams.
Mourning for youth, for love, for family,
Nothing justified, pain inflicted on ally and foe,
The paradox of sanctioned assassins, life’s lessons never,
Execution of souls, eternal loss weeps.
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