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Song of Songs

- Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

Sing me at dawn but only with your laugh:

Like sprightly Spring that laugheth into leaf;

Like Love, that cannot flute for smiling at Life.

~

Sing to me only with your speech all day,

As voluble leaflets do. Let viols die.

The least word of your lips is melody.

~

Sing me at dusk, but only with your sigh;

Like lifting seas it solaceth: breathe so,

All voicelessly, the sense that no songs say.

~

Sing me at midnight with your murmurous heart;

And let its moaning like a chord be heard

Surging through you and sobbing unsubdued.

#so welcome to the summer of 1917 #so this one is interesting #it’s allegedly the first poem he wrote for Siegfried Sassoon #in the sense that it’s the first one he wrote which impressed him #which Sassoon allegedly: applauded fervently… pronounced it perfect work #absolutely charming #etc etc. and begged that [owen] would copy it out for him to show the powers that be #it was then printed in The Hydra which was sort of the resident owned paper of the hospital Sassoon and Owen were staying at #and he won a constellation prize for it later on #apparently Owen eventually outgrew this poem #but I stand by it and would gladly use it for my vows if I ever get married #since imo thats how it’s written #and SPEAKING of my opinion… come on #what else could’ve inspired Owen to write such a beautiful love poem which was EXPLICITLY TO IMPRESS HIS CELEBRITY CRUSH WHO JUST AGREED TO #TUTOR HIM AND WOULD BECOME HIS LOVER #which is why I’m tagging this as #wilfred owen #siegfried sassoon #queer poetry #love poem #ww1 #poetry

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Storm

-Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

His face was charged with beauty as a cloud

With glimmering lightning. When it shadowed me,

I shook, and was uneasy as a tree

That draws the brilliant danger, tremulous, bowed.

-

So must I tempt that face to loose it’s lightning.

Great gods, whose beauty is death, will laugh above,

Who made his beauty lovelier than love.

I shall be bright with their unearthly brightening.

-

And happier were it if my sap consume;

Glorious will shine the opening of my heart;

The land shall freshen that was under gloom;

What matter if all men cry out and start,

And women hide their faces in their shawl,

At those hilarious thunders of my fall?

#what’s this?? could it be a sonnet?? #a queer sonnet??? #a gay poem??? #from Wilfred Owen??? #well guys no one here is as surprised as I am #this pretty little thing was most likely written around october 1916 #nothing revolutionary style wise but it’s really fun to read with all the Zeus type semantic fields #very imposing but lovely #anyway #wilfred owen #poetry #ww1 #sonnet #queer literature #sounds like he has a very aggressive but saucy situationship going on #I’m not sure if their relationship here sounds like the healthiest #potential domestic violence tw

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they're so silly i love them

#they’re just my babies guys dw <333 #benediction #wilfred owen #siegfried sassoon

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To The Bitter Sweet-Heart: A Dream

- Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

One evening Eros took me by the hand,

And having folded feathers round my head,

Or sleep like feathers, towards a far hope sped,

I groping, for he bade me understand

He would soon fill with Yours my other hand —

But when I heard his singing wings expand

My face fell deeply in his shoulder.

Sweet moons we flew this, yet I waned not older

But in his exquisiteness I flagged, unmanned

Till, when his wings were dropping to an end

Feeling my empty hand fulfilled with His,

I knew Love gave himself my passion-friend.

So my old quest of you requited is,

Ampler than e’er I asked of your girl’s grace.

I shall not ask you more, nor see your face.

#OooOoo what a scandalous young chap we are Wilfred 😂 #all I’m saying is those wings are clearly a penis #and Wilfred’s hands being filled with nondescript Yours/His #and ending it with the good old: #I like you too much so now I’m going to ghost you #very saucy boy #poetry #wilfred owen #love poem #gay sex poem

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Been delving back into the world of Wilfred Owens horny gay ass so on one hand - yay! We won’t be quite so bleak for a little bit!

On the other hand - prepare to read a lot of pining and gay sex <3

#poetry #wilfred owen

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AI art and humanity

#reblogging so hopefully someone writes the poem

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#aw #im not usually a fan of this kind of structure but this is cute #comes across very gently #poem #poetry

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since chinese new year is next month (Feb 10th) I figured I’d do a poll like this— it also indicates a tumblr age demographic so that’s always interesting

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Woah there friend

#poetry #carol ann duffy #medusa

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i don't know if i'll do anything with this information.

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Mother When I was lost, born of her willow, I found the pale obscurity in which she grew, where she cracked her silver arrows upon his midnight sky and cotton, which she picked and spun, blanketed his creation of effulgence. Built up of emotion, born of his weeds, she leapt past me; lily-white roots and pruned, emerald shavings, shaking his sky gracefully with her electric bolts. Her oak arm, rocked with ferocious blasts of air, reached over my head, over me, raven-haired crows singing a whining melody to me and at once, I snapped at her bruised twig and picked at her withered petals furious, she whipped me up and her strident tempest help me captive in which I yielded to her as I asked the crooning birds for aid to which they ignored and blasted back through the high shrubs away, away.

#this is lovely #incredibly mother daughter #mother nature #poetry

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Love the way this article opens. He was an academic failure, poor, gay, and underemployed. Truly relatable to the modern youth

#welllll yeah but he wasn’t an academic FAILURE necessarily #he did get into the school he wanted to attend he just literally couldn’t afford the tuition #but I know this is a joke so don’t take me too seriously lmaooo #he was indeed poor gay underpaid underemployed #overall a very relatable top g

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I stood with the Dead, so forsaken and still: When dawn was grey I stood with the Dead. And my slow heart said, 'You must kill, you must kill': ‘Soldier, soldier, morning is red.’

Siegfried Sassoon: ‘I Stood With The Dead’

“Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black; Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh.”

— Wilfred Owen, from “Mental Cases”

#lit #quotes #poetry #wilfred owen #siegfried sassoon #mental cases #I stood with the dead #ww1 poetry #British poetry #same genre and vibe so I thought I’d add on #hopefully op doesn’t mind

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Preface (Unfinished)

-Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

This book is not about heroes. English Poetry is not yet fit to speak of them. Nor is it about deeds or lands, nor anything about glory, honour, dominion, or power,

-

except War.

Above all, this book is not concerned with Poetry.

The subject of it is War, and the pity of War.

The Poetry is in the pity.

Yet these elegies are not to this generation,

This is in no sense consolatory.

-

They may be to the next.

All the poet can do today is to warn.

That is why the true Poets must be truthful.

If I thought the letter of this book would last,

I might have used proper names; but if the spirit of it survives Prussia,— my ambition and those names will be content; for they will have achieved themselves fresher fields than Flanders.

#I know this isn’t technically a poem #however it’s the preface to Owen’s would-be anthology #which pretty much tells you all you need to know about the tone of his works #but since I post a hell of a lot of Wilfred Owen and Sassoon’s poems I figured I might as well have this too #^ I mean he tells you pretty much straight off the bat that it isn’t meant to be pretty or patriotic or anything you really want to hear as #a soldier in the First World War or someone at home with loved ones fighting #but that’s exactly the point - it was never intended for them; it was intended for us here in the future #to show the truth of war #if anyone here’s ever read Uriconium you know Owen is FASCINATED by the cyclical nature of history #which makes Owens poetry particularly horrific when you consider the following events such as the Second World War and pretty much all #following wars including the horrors happening around the world to this day in places like Ukraine and Palestine #I’ll shut up now but anyway #literature #poetry #Wilfred Owen #ww1 #remembrance #war poetry

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Impression du Matin

- Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

The Thames nocturne of blue and gold

Changed to a Harmony in grey:

A barge of ochre-coloured hay

Dropt from the wharf: and chill and cold

*

The yellow fog came creeping down

The bridges, till the houses’ walls

Seemed changed to shadows, and S. Paul’s

Loomed like a bubble o’er the town.

*

Then suddenly arose the clang

Of waking life; the streets were stirred

With country waggons: and a bird

Flew to the glistening roofs and sang.

*

But one pale woman all alone,

The daylight kissing her wan hair,

Loitered beneath the gas lamps’ flare,

With lips of flame and heart of stone.

#posting this now because I mentioned in the tags of Owens I Am The Ghost Of Shadwell Stair that it was very similar to this one of Wilde’s #if you read the afore mentioned poem (it should be right before this one) you should immediately see how it seems derivative of this one #particularly ofc in the final stanza but I think throughout as well #the prev post also goes into discussion of shadwell stair #which is theorised to be the setting of this poem as well as Owen’s #which naturally sets some critics up to believe Owens poem is merely a perception swap #but personally I don’t think so #anyway enjoy a snazzy prostitute poem! #poetry #oscar wilde #Victorian poetry #impression du matin

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I am the Ghost of Shadwell Stair

-Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair.

Along the wharves by the water-house,

And through the cavernous slaughter-house,

I am the shadow that walks there.

*

Yet I have flesh both firm and cool,

And eyes tumultuous as the gems

Of moons and lamps in the full Thames

When dusk sails wavering down the Pool.

*

Shuddering, a purple street-arc burns

Where I watch always. From the banks

Dolorously the shipping clanks.

And after me a strange tide turns.

*

I walk till the stars of London wane,

And Dawn creeps up the Shadwell Stair.

But when the crowning sirens blare,

I with another ghost am lain.

#very similar to Wilde’s Impression Du Matin is this one #which makes sense for anyone here familiar with their queer literature - as you probably know about the idea of Shadwell stair #which is to say that Shadwell stair was once notoriously famous for its sex work #as well as being a popular meeting spot for queer folks who had to avoid prosecution in the late 1800s and early-mid 1900s #which is just fucking heartbreaking #but anyway #they allegedly also used to hang pirates at/near the shadwell stair which might’ve contributed here #considering the common criminal associations with homosexuality at the time #so in summary this is basically viewed as THE queer poem of Wilfred Owen and potentially of the First World War in general #poetry #ww1 #war poetry #wilfred owen #remembrance #queer poetry

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I Stood With The Dead

- Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)

I stood with the Dead, so forsaken and still:

When dawn was grey I stood with the Dead.

And my slow heart said, “You must kill; you must kill:

Soldier, soldier, morning is red.”

-

On the shapes of the slain in their crumpled disgrace

I stared for a while through the thin cold rain....

“O lad that I loved, there is rain on your face,

And your eyes are blurred and sick like the plain.”

-

I stood with the Dead.... They were dead; they were dead;

My heart and my head beat a march of dismay;

And gusts of the wind came dulled by the guns....

“Fall in!” I shouted; “Fall in for your pay!”

#siegfried sassoon #i stood with the dead #ww1 #war poetry #grief #ahhhhhhhh the pain #the agony #the sheer unadulterated hnnghhhhh #rolling on the floor in agony over this poem (has been reading it on loop for 4 years)