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~ All Poetry © Dennis N. O'Brien, 2010 – 2019

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Monthly Archives: July 2015

Attila the Hun

30 Thursday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Historical, War

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Alans, Atilla the Hun, australian formal poetry, Battle of Châlons, Emperor Valentinian, Formal poetry, Honoria, poem, poetry, Visigoths

Each armed to the teeth and a merciless killer;
All led by a right piece of work called Attila,
The nomadic Huns were the toughs of their day,
And heaven help any who got in their way.

From east of the Volga they came down in waves.
They raped and they plundered and took many slaves,
And there at their head was the rampaging son
Of Mundzuk of Nimrod – Attila the Hun.

He struck at the Romans – at first in the East.
At Utus he triumphed; his power increased,
But Constantinople, the Byzantine jewel,
Would never submit to barbarian rule.

Attila held counsel and made other plans;
He’d strike to the West, at the Visigoth’s lands.
The Huns left the Balkans and marched on to Gaul,
And all in their path, to Attila would fall.

But one, by betroval, she sought peace to bring;
The Roman, Honoria sent him her ring.
Atilla was firing – no time for a date;
Valentinian’s sister would just have to wait.

The Huns, like a wave in a murderous flood,
Washed over the land with dead bodies and blood,
And spread devastation with pillage and fire;
But one power could stop them: The Roman Empire.

Their general, Aetius, pride of the West,
at Châlons, the Huns, did his great army test:
The Visigoths, Romans, and Alan allies,
With broad sword and axe, cut the Huns down to size.

Atilla, his luck it was fast running out.
Depleted and weary, he started to doubt,
But then came to Rome – the Hun’s final demand:
“One half of your Empire – Honoria’s hand!”

The Romans said “No!”, and to him: “Do your worst!”
His dream now was fading, his vision was cursed,
While close by their eagles, the legions, they stood.
They’d banish this northern invader for good.

The Huns and their allies stopped north of the Po.
Attila retreated, defeated – laid low.
It’s rumoured he finally died of the drink,
Though murder, perhaps, is more likely I think.

And so did the Huns, for their great leader mourn.
(While everyone else wished he’d never been born)
They buried him under a river we’re told,
In a coffin of iron and silver and gold.

So whether expired from the wine or the knife,
(Supposedly wielded by Gudrun his wife)
His name’s now a symbol of horror and dread,
His kingdom, a box, neath a cold river bed.

King of Beasts

29 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Cecil the lion, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, Planned Parenthood, poem, poetry

Cecil’s dead – that’s a bit of a shame.
(Killing babies? – no! that’s not the same)
He had lived a long life.
Raised some cubs with each wife,
And was famous. (and certainly game)

So the world, it is now up in arms,
For a lion, it has primitive charms,
Unlike mere human trash,
To but plunder then smash –
Hunt this hunter – ‘his highness’ he harms.

Cuckservative

29 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

cuckservative, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

“Cuckservative” is the new name
For conservatives feeble and tame,
Who’ve crumpled and folded;
Who’ve been well cuckolded;
Are limp, lily-livered and lame.

cuckservative

Spice Guys

29 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

My friends, we need fewer nice guys
And gals. (those with tears in their eyes)
But more people with ire,
Who spit venom and fire;
Who are rude, unrepentant, and ….wise.

Beating the Retreat

28 Tuesday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

My friends, there’s no time for remorse.
The country is skidding off course.
Take care….as for me,
Should I stay? – should I flee?
Oh valet……please saddle my horse.

Technicolor Dreaming

27 Monday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

“Diversity, it makes us strong!”
Hang on! – That’s just got to be wrong.
Homogenization –
That makes a strong nation;
Wake up, and stop smoking that bong.

Lambs

26 Sunday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

Anyone is a target these days,
As the martyr, his prophet, obeys.
He’s a wolf in the flock
And the sheep does he mock,
And they bleat, as their shepherds he slays.

Number 11

26 Sunday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

australian formal poetry, Blue Poles, drip painting, Formal poetry, Jackson Pollock, Jackson Pollock painting number 11, poem, poetry

73-12-17_blue-poles_herald

Australian newspaper headline 1973. Blue Poles (originally titled number 11) by Jackson Pollock was
purchased by The Australian National Art Gallery for a then world record price of 1.3 million Australian dollars.

When Jack painted the poles of blue
I doubt he really had a clue,
For with his stick, the paint he dipped,
Then on a sheet of canvas dripped

It here and there in swirls and blobs
That all of the postmodern snobs
Now tell us is a masterpiece,
And would we Philistines please cease

Our criticism of his work:

“That Jack was just a drunken jerk
Who with some paint (and broken glass)
While on the turps, dribbled a farce.”

ironically it has turned out to be a great investment worth today an estimated 200 million – funny world

Pell’s Bells!

23 Thursday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Cardinal George Pell, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

Oh George Pell, you are really a dope.
A conservative – you were our hope!
Sure you’ve straightened the books
But those climate change crooks
Will make sure that you’ll never be pope.

cardinal-george-pell-criticises-pope-francis

Abnormal Me

22 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Climate alarmists, Climate deniers, limerick, Man made climate change, poem, poetry

They say I’m a climate denier.
I don’t share their forecast of fire
And heat due to us.
I’m not on that bus.
Their vision alarmist and dire.

Of deceit and collusion it reeks.
It’s supported by sniveling sneaks,
Who are all on the make
And it’s profits they’ll take,
As paid “science”, the latest graph tweaks.

I’m not normal, says some mad old bag.
Well if it is believing, you hag,
All the crap you are selling,
(Corrupt and foul smelling)
I’d rather relinquish that tag.

climate-deniers-are-not-normal-human-beings

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