A Lost Mind

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A Lost Mind

It’s not my fault – I had an awful start.
What chance had I to ever see success?
When I think of my woes it breaks my heart;
No wonder all my dreams are in a mess.
What happened to me? – perhaps you can guess:
I’ve been unlucky since I was a kid –
No luck at all – I couldn’t have had less.
I tried so hard – no matter what I did
It came to nothing, for I couldn’t rid
My mind of all the failures in my past.
And so I shut myself away and hid,
And so had nothing left to lose at last.
But all your losses in the past are dead;
They only live within your loser’s head.

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Dry Country

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Paroo_River_Dry-2002-05

Like inland seas that stretch to far horizons,
The swirling waters soak the sodden plains.
And brown and foaming flow the streams flood-swollen,
Swelled high and wide by teeming monsoon rains.

The arid deserts bake in summer heat waves,
While ancient stream beds dream of former days.
The deluge on the coast flows out to oceans,
As sense and “progress” go their separate ways.

— D.N. O’Brien

{Image of the Paroo River by Peter Woodard via Wikipedia}

Pro-Putin Poet

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Pro-Putin Poet

I’m moving to Russia to sing Putin’s praises.
I’ll live on the steppes where wherever one gazes
One sees far horizons, her vast open spaces,
Her beauty, her bounty. I’ll travel to places
Where never again will I hear folk complaining
Whenever from dull skies it’s snowing or raining.
I’ll go to the cities and see all their wonders,
And study the past and the Soviet blunders.
I’ll write formal verses that praise Vladimir,
And hope that he’ll have me around for a beer.

– D.N. O’Brien

A Sonnet for Rebecca

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A Sonnet for Rebecca

{For Rebecca Weisser}

She has a sense of humour quite refined;
And common sense? — of that she isn’t short.
Courageous? Yes indeed — she speaks her mind;
For those without a voice Rebecca’s fought.
She has integrity — she can’t be bought —
No one would try, her character’s well-known.
I guess these were the values she was taught —
Her faith in them throughout the years has grown.
She faces now a test – but not alone,
For closest friends, and some she’s never met,
Are with her — in their thoughts and prayers they’ve shown
Their love and their concern — know she won’t let
A temporary hurdle stop her run;
This cloud will pass and soon reveal the Sun.

— D.N. O’Brien

Is the Pope a Catholic?

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Is the Pope a Catholic?

Dear Francis — both religions can’t be true.
If one is right, the other must be wrong.
The Muslims understand this — why don’t you?
Dear Francis — both religions can’t be true;
And there’s no way to reconcile the two.
You’re trying to match Fay Wray with King Kong!
Dear Francis — both religions can’t be true.
If one is right, the other must be wrong.

Pope claims God wills diverse religions

A Special Place in Hell

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A Special Place in Hell

Each day is perfect, and each night divine.
Sometimes a misty shower comes on the breeze.
No storms with thunderbolts — calm are the seas.
Upon a hillside graze contented kine.
My emptied bottle soon refills with wine.
My dog, I’ve noticed, is devoid of fleas.
My hay-fever has gone, I never sneeze.
It’s always springtime. On rich food I dine,
And never exercise, but am I fat?
No I’m as fit as any man could be!
And what about the whisky, beer, and rum?
It’s all too neat, too perfect — Is it that
There’s something seriously wrong with me?
Is there a doctor in Elysium?

— D.N. O’Brien

Hayne the Hero

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Hayne the Hero

The public are gleefully waiting
To find out the findings of Hayne.
A blood-bath they’re anticipating;
Their bank-hatred will never wane.
There’ll be no more talk – no debating;
The headmaster’s raising his cane.
The socialists are salivating –
Shareholders expect lots of pain.

– D.N. O’Brien

Banking Royal Commission

Reversal

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Reversal

The time has come to watch the old ways fall,
As from the bottom rises what once fell –
What has decayed and has decay’s sweet smell.
What once loomed large will shrink until it’s small,
And lowest things will rise to be the tall.
And thick will float the flotsam on the swell,
As downward sink the sainted souls to Hell.
The oldest lies will be believed by all.
Past heroes will be vilest villains now.
All once thought right will surely now be wrong.
The noble and their courage men will curse,
As those once brave down to the cowards bow.
Admired will be the weak – reviled the strong,
And what was true will be quite the reverse.

– D.N. O’Brien

1893

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{On the 6th of February 1893 a cyclone brought torrential rains and destructive winds to South East Queensland. A second cyclone arrived on the 11th of February and a third on the 19th. In one 3 day period Crohamhurst Observatory near the head of the Stanley River, a major tributary of the Brisbane River, recorded 72 inches, or 6 feet of rain (a world record at that time). A huge amount of flood water came down the Stanley and poured into the already flooded Brisbane River causing a disastrous flood at the city of Brisbane. A third of Brisbane residents were left homeless and 35 people died. Following the flood it was decided that a dam was needed on the Stanley River for flood mitigation and water supply for Brisbane, but it was not until 1935 that construction began, and due to the war, the dam was not completed until 1954. In 1956 the Somerset Dam was officially named and opened. In January 1974 cyclone Wanda struck, and Brisbane suffered another devastating flood. In 1984 the Wivenhoe Dam on the Brisbane River was officially opened.}

1893

In 1893 down came the rains,
And there was quite a flood in Brisbane town.
Most fled to higher ground – for most had brains.
In 1893 down came the rains,
But year by year that memory it wanes.
Should all forget then one day more may drown.
In 1893 down came the rains,
And there was quite a flood in Brisbane town.

– D.N. O’Brien

{Photo shows children in the centre of Brisbane as the flood was subsiding}