Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.



You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!
Get Your Premium Membership


Exposure

by
 I

Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us .
.
.
Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent .
.
.
Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient .
.
.
Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous, But nothing happens.
Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
Northward incessantly, the flickering gunnery rumbles, Far off, like a dull rumour of some other war.
What are we doing here? The poignant misery of dawn begins to grow .
.
.
We only know war lasts, rain soaks, and clouds sag stormy.
Dawn massing in the east her melancholy army Attacks once more in ranks on shivering ranks of gray, But nothing happens.
Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence.
Less deadly than the air that shudders black with snow, With sidelong flowing flakes that flock, pause and renew, We watch them wandering up and down the wind's nonchalance, But nothing happens.
II Pale flakes with lingering stealth come feeling for our faces -- We cringe in holes, back on forgotten dreams, and stare, snow-dazed, Deep into grassier ditches.
So we drowse, sun-dozed, Littered with blossoms trickling where the blackbird fusses.
Is it that we are dying? Slowly our ghosts drag home: glimpsing the sunk fires glozed With crusted dark-red jewels; crickets jingle there; For hours the innocent mice rejoice: the house is theirs; Shutters and doors all closed: on us the doors are closed -- We turn back to our dying.
Since we believe not otherwise can kind fires burn; Now ever suns smile true on child, or field, or fruit.
For God's invincible spring our love is made afraid; Therefore, not loath, we lie out here; therefore were born, For love of God seems dying.
To-night, His frost will fasten on this mud and us, Shrivelling many hands and puckering foreheads crisp.
The burying-party, picks and shovels in their shaking grasp, Pause over half-known faces.
All their eyes are ice, But nothing happens.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - ExposureEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...


Top Wilfred Owen Poems

Analysis and Comments on Exposure

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Exposure here.