The
100th anniversary of the beginning of World War 1 is officially July
28, the day Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia and attacked, in retribution
for the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand and Archduchess Sophie in
Sarajevo by a Serbian teenager. By the time the war ended, more than 70 million
military personnel had been involved; more than nine million combatants were
dead; and the German, Austrian, Ottoman, and Russian ruling families were swept
from power.
It
seems odd to associate poetry with war, but it is a fact that no war is more connected
to poetry that World War I. And for that we mostly have the English to thank.
From
1914 to 1918, poetry went to war. But it went to war in all its possible
permutations – jingoistic nationalism; nostalgia for a world being fought for
even as it passed away; the cynical response of the men in the trenches to
their incompetent generals; the mourning of civilians; pacifism and opposition
to the war; and the reflection of what it all meant, or didn’t mean, years
after the war was over.
To
continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak
Poetry.
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