BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: GUEST
Date: 30 Aug 03 - 02:08 AM

When I click on the .wav files it says I have to join the group. What gives? How come I have to join? I am not against joining as such but why should I join yet another discussion group? I am in enough and getting enough junk mail from them, already!

DtG

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 30 Aug 03 - 01:37 AM

I can relate! Dead before his time.

Sincerely,
Gargole

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: GUEST,Jim Clark..London..England
Date: 11 Oct 02 - 06:51 AM

Thanx Guys,

For your feedback..yes Owen was an extra-ordinary commentator on the terrors of the great war,and wars in perpetuity....I've added an almost definitive gallery of pictures of Owen to the poetry heroes section of my website.....so you might enjoy a look ...and a listen to some of the poems as well..

acoustic musicians and poets sound archive

Regards..

Jim Clark...

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: jimmyt
Date: 10 Oct 02 - 10:09 PM

Alison, Small world albiet downunder! I am also a big fan of Dulce et decorum est pro patria more. In 1955, as a freshman at Ohio State University over here in the colonies, having been exposed to mostly drivel in high school, stuff about as deep as greeting card stock, i had a graduate assistant instructor from Oxford who introduced me to This fabulous poem. First poem I ever read that moved me! Still does Jim

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: alison
Date: 10 Oct 02 - 09:58 PM

a few of his well know poems are here

and some other links at the bottom


slainte

alison

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: alison
Date: 10 Oct 02 - 09:56 PM

yes me....... probably the only poems I can remember from the ones we learnt in school

its hard to beat Dulce et decorum est

slainte

alison

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: Thomas the Rhymer
Date: 10 Oct 02 - 09:35 PM

War, devoid of all possible glamour... Noone 'wants' to go here... It's 'cool' to go a warrin', to come home quite upset by it is a lonely madness... one *very* well depicted in this poem... excellent!

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: Amergin
Date: 10 Oct 02 - 08:51 PM

i am....thanks

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: GUEST,Jim Clark..London..England
Date: 10 Oct 02 - 08:34 PM

Any other Wilfred Owen fans out there

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: rangeroger
Date: 09 Oct 02 - 11:41 PM

Refresh

Subject: RE: BS: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: GUEST,Jim Clark..London..England
Date: 09 Oct 02 - 10:12 AM

Glad you liked it Amos

Subject: RE: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: Amos
Date: 08 Oct 02 - 06:49 PM

Georgie!! Over here!! Ya gotta read this.

Oh...well, hell., we can find someone 'll read it to ya. Ya just gotta hear this, man.

It is so keeewl....



A

Subject: Mental Cases by Wilfred Owen 1893 - 1918
From: GUEST,Jim Clark..London..England
Date: 08 Oct 02 - 06:09 PM

Wilfred Owen originaly called this poem " The Deranged" for it describes in vivid detail the ghostly sad demented victims of shell shock and worse injury who had suffered brain damage....He himself had suffered shell shock but had recovered sufficiently to be sent back to the frontline where he himself was to eventualy meet his death on November the 4th 1918....and heres the link to the page with the sound poem..
Mental Cases sound poem by Wilfred Owen

Mental Cases
Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?
Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,
Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,
Baring teeth that leer like skulls' teeth wicked?
Stroke on stroke of pain, - but what slow panic, (5)
Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?
Ever from their hair and through their hands' palms
Misery swelters. Surely we have perished
Sleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?

– These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished. (10)
Memory fingers in their hair of murders,
Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.
Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,
Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.
Always they must see these things and hear them, (15)
Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,
Carnage incomparable, and human squander
Rucked too thick for these men's extrication.

Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormented
Back into their brains, because on their sense (20)
Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;
Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh.
– Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,
Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.
– Thus their hands are plucking at each other; (25)
Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;
Snatching after us who smote them, brother,
Pawing us who dealt them war and madness