Wilfred Owen – Anthem For Doomed Youth

 Wilfred Owen was one of those poets who opened my eyes to the power of poetry. His words captured the horrors and created images in my head.

Apart from the Beat Poets it was the poets from the First World War who most spoke to me. They were so powerful.

War is death. War is destruction. War is misery. Those who wage it are after power.

There has to be better ways than war.

In war people die like cattle while commanders and politicians stay safe in bunkers.

PS – I stole the Teach Peace photo from Raili. I hope you don’t mind Raili. I thought it was so powerful and went with these.

Anthem For Doomed Youth – Poem 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.