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31 de may. de 2024 · Red lips are not so red As the stained stones kissed by the English dead. Kindness of wooed and wooer Seems shame to their love pure. O Love, your eyes lose lure When I behold eyes blinded in my stead! Your slender attitude Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed, Rolling and rolling there Where God seems not to care; Till the fierce Love they bear Cramps them in death's extreme ...
31 de may. de 2024 · There we herded from the blast. Of whizz-bangs, but one found our door at last. Buffeting eyes and breath, snuffing the candles. And thud! flump! thud! down the steep steps came thumping. And splashing in the flood, deluging muck-. The sentry's body; then his rifle, handles. Of old Boche bombs, and mud in ruck on ruck.
16 de may. de 2024 · Home » Strange Meeting by Wilfred Owen. Wilfred Owen. Strange Meeting by Wilfred Owen. by bbqqt71 May 16, 2024. 2. It seemed that out of battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which titanic wars had groined. Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
25 de may. de 2024 · Cramped in that funnelled hole, they watched the dawn. Open a jagged rim around; a yawn. Of death 's jaws, which had all but swallowed them. Stuck in the bottom of his throat of phlegm. They were in one of many mouths of Hell. Not seen of seers in visions, only felt. As teeth of traps; when bones and the dead are smelt.
29 de may. de 2024 · Best Poems of Wilfred Owen . Disabled; Insensibility; From My Diary, July 1914; 1914; The Sentry; Recent Interactions* This poem was read 152 times, This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members, This poem was voted by 1 members. (* Interactions only in the last 7 days) New Poems.
16 de may. de 2024 · Home » Strange Meeting by Wilfred Owen. Wilfred Owen. Strange Meeting by Wilfred Owen. by bbqqt71 May 16, 2024. 1. It seemed that out of battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which titanic wars had groined. Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
14 de may. de 2024 · The Letter. With B.E.F. Jun 10. Dear Wife, (Oh blast this pencil. 'Ere, Bill, lend's a knife .) I'm in the pink at present, dear. I think the war will end this year. We're out of harm's way, not bad fed. I'm longing for a taste of your old buns.
