Remembrance
As we sat and watched the Remembrance Day parade at the Cenotaph yesterday, we felt truly humbled. All those Man and Women who took part were so proud. It is quite a sobering thought that we really do owe our freedom to all these people especially those that gave the ultimate sacrifice.
Unfortunately, wars will always happen and as I often say, when you are in a state of high emotion, it really can spark your creative side into action. There are literally thousands of poems written on active duty and some of the authors have become very well known. Probably one of the most famous war poets is Wilfred Own. On reading Dulce Et Decorum Est, (Sweet and fitting it is), you are almost transported to the trenches. Such courage in this living hell makes you appreciate a more mundane life…
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 disappointed shells 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 floundering 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.
Wilfred Owen