Poets

1
Poets of the Great War
2
Above all I am not concerned with Poetry.  My
subject is War, and the pity of War    Yet
these elegies are to this generation in no sense
consolatory All a poet can do today is warn.
That is why true Poetsmust be truthful.
Wilfred Owen, from a preface to a planned book of
his poetry.
3
It's a sinTo say that Hell is hot 'cause it's
notMind you, I know very well we're in
hell. from The Mad Soldier by Edward Tennant
4
Alec de Candole (1897-1918)   Alec left college
in April 1916 to enlist. He was commissioned in
the 4th Wiltshire Regiment and sent to Flanders
in April, 1917. He was wounded in October 1917
but returned to Belgium in July 1918. On 4
September the Battalion Diary recorded that Alec
de Candole was killed in a bombing raid. Two
days before he died he wrote this poem
5
When the Last Long Trek is Over When the last
long trek is over,And the last long trench
filled in,Ill take a boat to Dover,Away from
all the dinIll take a trip to Mendip,Ill see
the Wiltshire downs,And all my soul Ill then
dipIn peace no trouble drowns.
6
Away from noise of battle,Away from bombs and
shells,Ill lie where browse the cattle,Or
pluck the purple bells.Ill lie among the
heather,And watch the distant plain,Through all
the summer weather,Nor go to fight again.
7
Edward Bim Tennant (1897-1916) Killed at the
Somme.
8
THE MAD SOLDIER I dropp'd here three weeks ago,
yes I know,And it's bitter cold at night,
since the fight I could tell you if I chose
no one knowsExcep' me and four or five, what
ain't aliveI can see them all asleep, three men
deep,And they're nowhere near a fire but our
wireHas 'em fast as fast can be. Can't you
seeWhen the flare goes up? Ssh! Boys what's
that noise?
9
Do you know what these rats eat? Body-meat!After
you've been down a week, 'an your cheekGets as
pale as life, and night seems as whiteAs the
day, only the rats and their bratsSeem more
hungry when the day's gone away An' they look
as big as bulls, an' they pullsTill you almost
sort o' shout but the droughtWhat you hadn't
felt before makes you sore.And at times you even
think of a drink...
10
There's a leg across my thighs if my
eyesWeren't too sore, I'd like to see who it
be,Wonder if I'd know the bloke if I woke?
Woke? By damn, I'm not asleep there's a
heapOf us wond'ring why the hell we're not
well...Leastways I am since I came it's the
sameWith the others they don't know what I
do,Or they wouldn't gape and grin.
11
It's a sinTo say that Hell is hot 'cause it's
notMind you, I know very well we're in hell.
In a twisted hump we lie heaping highYes! an'
higher every day. Oh, I say,This chap's heavy
on my thighs damn his eyes.
12
"If I live, I mean to spend the rest of my life
working for perpetual peace. I have seen war and
faced modern artillery and know what an outrage
it is against simple men." Tom Kettle, Irish
Poet, killed at the Somme 1916
13
Leslie Coulson, Poet 1889 1916 killed at the
Somme