January 5, 2009

Poetry Break

I quite like Wilfred Owen, having been fortunate enough to have been exposed to his work in a college course. After having spent a couple of weeks thinking about weapon systems, I was reminded of one of his poems and thought it appropriate to post here to keep myself oriented.

On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action

Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,
Great Gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;
Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse
Huge imprecations like a blasting charm!
Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm,
And beat it down before its sins grow worse.
Spend our resentment, cannon, -- yea, disburse
Our gold in shapes of flame, our breaths in storm.

Yet, for men's sakes whom thy vast malison
Must wither innocent of enmity,
Be not withdrawn, dark arm, thy spoilure done,
Safe to the bosom of our prosperity.
But when thy spell be cast complete and whole,
May God curse thee, and cut thee from our soul!

- Wilfred Owen, May 1918 Posted by jbz at January 5, 2009 10:27 AM | TrackBack

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