I reckon that Futility (by Wilfred Owen) must be my favourite poem. I would be lying if I said I had studied much poetry and can still remember this from school. I think the fact that i can remember it verbatim must mean that it has struck some kind of chord with me. It’s about the life and death in the trenches of France during World War One and the futility of the whole situation. According to Wikipedia it is ‘a departure from his usual style of including disturbing and graphic images and instead has an oddly soothing feel to it’. Whilst not knowing his usual style i can only agree that it has a somewhat soothing feel to it.
Media: Screenprint, acrylic and spraypaint
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