Any war poetry /lit/ recommends?
>>25249340https://youtube.com/shorts/s9RYG-iMdx0?si=MralCX75Q0TPC4ag
>>25249340>there's some poetry in it
>>25249340Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War
>>25249340Died for jews their empire comes crumbling downRape gangs and abortions, their country turns brown
>>25249340That one by Homer --The Odyssey
Dulce et decorum est
>>25250170>is that someone dying.. in a war???>ahhhhh patriotism is le bad
>>25250175Said the chickenhawk who never served.
>>25249340Everybody a demon til they're stuck digging Ukrainian ditches for 4 months on the edge of constant psychosis because every black dot in the sky could be a 30 euro drone with a grenade taped to it.
>>25249340the Iliad.
>>25249340This is my favourite, though I also like the Wilfred Owen ones I read in school Georg Trakl - Grodek Am Abend tönen die herbstlichen Wäldervon tödlichen Waffen, die goldnen Ebenenund blauen Seen, darüber die Sonnedüstrer hinrollt; umfängt die Nachtsterbende Krieger, die wilde Klageihrer zerbrochenen Münder.Doch stille sammelt im Weidengrundrotes Gewölk, darin ein zürnender Gott wohntdas vergoßne Blut sich, mondne Kühle;alle Straßen münden in schwarze Verwesung.Unter goldenem Gezweig der Nacht und Sternenes schwankt der Schwester Schatten durch den schweigenden Hain,zu grüßen die Geister der Helden, die blutenden Häupter;und leise tönen im Rohr die dunkeln Flöten des Herbstes.O stolzere Trauer! ihr ehernen Altäredie heiße Flamme des Geistes nährt heute ein gewaltiger Schmerz,die ungebornen Enkel.At evening autumn forests droneWith deadly weapons, the golden plainsAnd the blue lakes, above which somberlyThe sun rolls down. The nightEmbraces dying warriors, the wild lamentsOf their shattered mouths.But in the willow valley silentlyThe outspilled blood collects, red cloudsIn which an angry god dwells, lunar coolness;All roads disgorge to black decay.Beneath the golden boughs of night and starsThe sister's shadow flutters through the silent groveTo greet the spirits of the heroes, bleeding heads.And softly in the reeds drone the dark flutes of autumn.O prouder grief! you brazen altars;Tonight a mighty anguish feeds the hot flame of spirit:Unborn grandchildren.
