#dulce et decorum est by wilfred owen
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queermarzipan · 10 months ago
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I think I did well on my exam!! :DD PROFICIENCY IN SPEECH AND DRAMA BABEY.
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apoemaday · 11 months ago
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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. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! -- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime -- Dim, through the misty panes 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, 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   Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -- 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.
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edwardian-girl-next-door · 1 year ago
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~ Wilfred Owens, "Dulce et Decorum Est"
via poetryfoundation.org
text id under cut-off
[ID/ Wilfred Owens poem, "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,
And towards our distant rest 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
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes 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, 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
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
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.
/end ID]
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haveyoureadthispoem-poll · 9 months ago
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"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,— / 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."
Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!
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that-gay-jedi · 3 months ago
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Actually when Wilfred Owen describes a bayonet as "Thin with the hunger for blood" that was peak antiwar poetry & we do not give him enough attention
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dolline · 1 year ago
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I have just found out that Wilfred Owen was killed 1 week before ww1 ended and I will not recover
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spineless-lobster · 1 year ago
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She dulce on my decorum til I est
​She pro on my patria til I mori
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charliemaybeghost · 1 year ago
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A letter from Wilfred Owen to Siegfried Sassoon
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From Rictor Norton's anthology of gay historical letters "My Dear Boy".
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Dulce et Decorum Est - Wilfred Owen - UK
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. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes 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, 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
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
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.
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thatwritererinoriordan · 11 months ago
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relaxartworld · 2 years ago
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Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen (subtitled excerpt - PART 3) ▶️FULL VIDEO👉 FULL POEM VIDEO ▶️ https://youtu.be/kEYK0aiRPmg 👈
"Dulce et Decorum Est" was written by the British poet Wilfred Owen during World War I. The poem depicts the horrors of war and the harsh realities that soldiers faced on the front lines. Owen draws upon his own experiences as a soldier in the trenches, where he witnessed the devastating effects of gas attacks. He refutes the idealism in the Latin phrase "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori," meaning "It is sweet and fitting to die for one's country," a commonly held belief during the time.
Follow us on www.youtube.com/@RelaxArtWorld (link in bio)
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thatgirlonstage · 3 months ago
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Anytime I see a post that reminds me that reciting the pledge of allegiance in school is common in the US my soul briefly exits my body
Shit’s real fuckin weird. I understand how you would not realize that if you’ve been doing it all your life but I cannot emphasize enough *how fucking weird* it is.
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regina-cordium · 12 days ago
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We were talking abt the poem in Flanders field and dad and I were struggling to think of the poets name and literally all I could remember was that he was gay
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sparksofcalliope · 1 month ago
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Two Poems by Wilfred Owen
#poetry #war #poetrylovers #SparksofCalliope #PoetryCommunity #poems
Wilfred Owen (1893–1918) was a British poet whose powerful works provide some of the most poignant insights into the horrors of World War I. Born in Oswestry, Shropshire, England, Owen grew up in a lower-middle-class family. His early education sparked an interest in poetry, and he was influenced by Romantic poets such as John Keats. However, it was his experiences as a soldier during World War I…
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marbleluvrofliberty · 2 years ago
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wilfred owen in that one poem
I would rather die serving cunt than die serving my country
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z-ppy · 1 year ago
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so long ago (like four months ago) I read this hetalia/spn crossover fic called pro patria mori and it changed me https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7967262/1/Pro-Patria-Mori
alfred (america) gets possessed and canada and japan team up with the winchesters to save the day (bc the demon is using al to absolutely wreak havoc on a national scale). it's fun because england, prussia, and the italies are the only nations who Know and england summons crowley to bitch at him and germany keeps sweeping up the salt when prussia's trying to ward the house. anyway.
the title comes from the poem 'dulce et decorum est' by wilfred owen and it's so so good https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46560/dulce-et-decorum-est
it's unfinished and I was unsatisfied so I started my own crossover fic wherein prussia and america are hunters and germany makes a stupid deal and the winchesters are like .....???? angels, demons, god, but you're telling me these loud idiots are nations?
I wanna introduce my spn friends to my decade-long obsession with personified countries
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