Dead Souls

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 (With apologies to Nikolai Gogol)

Like Chichikov, they wish to buy dead souls;

No matter that the souls are very old.

For only names are added to their rolls.

They’ll pay for them in newly minted gold,

Or in the newly printed notes that fold.

Of course the souls must all have been released

By death, that by description fits the mould.

Thus may the joyous numbers be increased —

Wealth made by buying up the poor deceased!

No matter that most of them would have died

Quite soon of just old age, and not The Beast.

No matter that soul-traders often lied.

The buyers reap the harvest — all are lauded.

Our Chichikov would no doubt have applauded.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Cynic

Tags

poetry, poem, sonnet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, Australian poet, Spenserian sonnet

The Cynic

Believe in nothing – this I say to all.

Nobody tells the truth, it is all lies,

Believe them and you’re headed for a fall.

Especially don’t believe words of the wise,

Look at them! You can see it in their eyes!

They’re lying man, but do not be deceived,

And after all, how could you be surprised,

When such a wicked web these ghouls have weaved.

A web no spider ever has devised;

It catches minds that think the truth they’ve snared,

But truth, if it exists, is compromised;

A paradox, since truth, of truth, is scared.

The search for truth is a quixotic quest;

A search for nothing with no hope of rest.

– D.N. O’Brien

The Game Generation

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet

But this is not a game, it is real war.

Those bodies, blown apart, were living men,

Farewelled so fine, sent home as flesh and gore.

But this is not a game, it is real war —

A war with echoes of those fought before:

The wars of cruel attrition, fought again.

But this is not a game, it is real war.

Those bodies, blown apart, were living men.

— D.N. O’Brien

Bend Times

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

One wonders how it will all end;

Will all things revert to the trend?

Says the geomancer:

“Divine is the answer.

It waits for you, round yonder bend.”

– D.N. O’Brien

Filling the Vacuum

“God is dead.” So Nietzsche’s often quoted.

The atheists will say that’s what he said.

It’s true of course but it should too be noted

That Nietzsche said it with a sense of dread —

That we had killed Him — it was on our head

He laid the blame. And what? — he asked, what thing

Replaces murdered gods, gods cold and dead?

The bells in church towers will no longer ring,

And all those hymns? Why will the choirs still sing

Of Him, when he no longer is of use?

A fallen deity, a banished king,

Devoid of power, like Baal, Odin, or Zeus.

And Nature does such empty space abhor —

Rush in, the gods of mammon and of war.

— D.N. O’Brien

Bougainville

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Bougainville War, Formal poetry, poetry

𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞

From that fair isle across the sea
The tropic breezes call to me.
The songs by gentle people sung,
I heard them there when I was young.
Too young to know the jewel’s worth,
To value this green shard of Earth.
I laboured there and took my gold,
And it still gleams as I grow old.

So Bougainville I owe you much,
And though I won’t return, I touch
The photographs I took of you
So long ago — the precious few.
If time, I could turn back its hands,
I’d leave foot prints in your black sands. 
Your evening rains could soak me through —
It’s often now I think of you.
Of how you’ve suffered since those years.
Of how your soil was drenched with tears.
I left without a backward glance —
Now I remember our romance.

— D.N. O’Brien

Avoiding Trip Wires in the Land of the Free

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Triolet

You’re free to state your mind, that’s right my friend,

But careful what you say, I would advise.

As long as you, the narrative defend,

You’re free to state your mind, that’s right my friend.

You’re free to state your mind some may contend,

As long as what you state supports State Lies.

You’re free to state your mind, that’s right my friend,

But careful what you say, I would advise.

– D.N. O’Brien

Head Hunting

Tags

Assassinations, Australian poet, Formal poetry, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, Middle East chaos, poem, poetry

Old leaders fall as time goes by,

But new heads replace those that die.

You say it’s not so?

My friend, don’t you know,

That desperate head-hunters lie.

– D.N. O’Brien

More (Australian) Cannon Fodder

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

The little green actor says: “Thanks!

But maybe as well as your tanks,

Could you send some crews?

(Don’t believe ‘The News’)

The Ruskies are thinning our ranks!”

— D.N. O’Brien

Nakba Revisited

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, Middle East, Nakba, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐛𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝

As disasters go it was one of the worst.

Many years ago it happened, none deny.

To a people, by a people — both now cursed.

All that’s happened since, old hatreds fortify.

Truth and honour, neath the desert dust they lie;

Youth and aged and all between are cursed and blamed;

None are innocent, the mob shouts: “They must die!”

None are tried, but quick the guilty ones are named.

Cannons roar, the dead are buried, all’s explained

To our satisfaction by the Powers that be.

Scores are tallied of the murdered and the maimed,

And the scorers all confer and must agree.

One side triumphs, (but is too, the losing side);

It holds back, with waning strength, the rising tide.

— D.N. O’Brien