Tags » Wilfred Owen

Artifact Spotlight: The British Small Box Respirator

The vivid scenery in Wilfred Owen’s Dulce et Decorum Est helps me to recall that many people of all nationalities went through terrifying experiences with chemical warfare during the First World War. 809 more words

Fredericton Region Museum

The Road To Glamour And Glory Or A Passport To The Graveyard

Hey everyone. Friday was a strange day made even stranger by the fact I was in Edinburgh earlier than usual. This was due to the fact that my girlie catch up with Leanne McKay had to be cancelled due to her having a dental appointment. 1,035 more words

On the road to the last resting places of three WW1 poets

Isaac Rosenberg, ‘The Road’, 1911

The road leads me to the last resting places of three English poets whose lives were cut short by the war of 1914-18: Isaac Rosenberg, Edward Thomas and Wilfred Owen.   7,578 more words

Poetry

Poets and their visions 30 – W H Auden

The last, chronologically speaking, of the poets I shall discuss – and the only one I actually met – is W H Auden. His was the generation that grew up just after the First World War, so they were without the intensity of subject matter that Wilfred Owen and his contemporaries displayed. 2,545 more words

Poetry

WWI: Two Poems by Wilfred Owen

The Guns of August (Barbara Tuchman) blared 100 years ago. Out of the horror of the War to End All Wars, three artistic masterpieces arose, like warning phoenixes for all time: the poems of Wilfred Owen; Ernest Hemingway’s… 524 more words

War

Things to Live For

“Poetry, Beauty, Romance, Love – these are what we stay alive for.”

The words of Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society

My thoughts of late have wandered far and wide, but over the past few weeks they have shifted back to a few core questions; the above quote encapsulates some of the answers to the questions that have been spinning in my head. 867 more words

The Nexus

Our Mid-Month's Poet: Wilfred Owen

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, 196 more words

Poetry