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

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Monthly Archives: May 2018

Crap Coffee

30 Wednesday May 2018

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Australian poet, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry, Starbucks bathroom policy

Welcome to Starbucks, the toilet!
We take quite good coffee then spoil it.
But no need to buy it –
The bathroom? Sure, try it!
You look like a guy who could soil it.

Blaming the Tradesman’s Tool

29 Tuesday May 2018

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Australian poet, Crazy judges, Judge wants blunt knives, Knife crime in London, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

Here’s his logic: the weapon – a knife,
Was wielded – so ended a life.
Its edge was quite keen.
(Judge, the killer was mean!)
Blunt each edge, round each tip, end this strife!

UK Judge wants knives blunted

Afterwards

26 Saturday May 2018

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Observation, Satire

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Abortion, Australian poet, couplets, poem, poetry, remorse

Oh true, it is a bloody game;
But I am now absolved of blame.

And children, they can be such pests!
Why not expel unwelcome guests.

It would have stifled my career!
I have a cold – that’s not a tear.

I did the right thing – all my friends
Agree…… so that is how it ends.

Irish Ayes Are Smiling

26 Saturday May 2018

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Abortion on demand, Australian poet, Aye, Irish abortion vote, Irish vote aye for abortion, Irish vote yes for abortion, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

The Irish are crying with joy.
They’ll soon have the right to destroy
The helpless – what progress!
A new sin to confess!
The priest asks: “A girl or a boy?”

“Oh father! I have no idea.”
The girl in the box sheds a tear.
“If you’ve killed a son,
Or a daughter – it’s done,
And you must live with it, my dear.”

Irish vote for abortion

Controversial Couplets

24 Thursday May 2018

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Australian poet, couplets, epigram, Females and politics, poem, poetry

On Facebook

Men tend to post pieces about politics,
While food, fun and fashion are posted by chicks.

Disinterested Demos

The ancient Greeks gave the vote only to guys.
I think on reflection those old Greeks were wise.

Super-Superficial

I’m voting for Justin – I think he is cute!
(I’d rather a statesman resembling a newt.)

At The Polling Station

They’re making us vote, though we haven’t a clue!
(So prattle the girls as we wait in the queue.)

Feisty Females

The Suffragettes fought and they won us the vote.
(That’s why we have no politicians of note.)

Stanley River

23 Wednesday May 2018

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Bush Poetry, Nature

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Australian bush poetry, Australian traditional poetry, bush poet, Bush Poetry, poem, poetry, Stanley River Queensland

The water rippling o’er the bars whispers these words to me:
“You came and swam in my cool depths when you were young and free.

Then all your worries were so small and how the world was wide;
But now the world has wearied you, come here, a while abide.

For I have waited patiently while you were far away,
And deep within my heart I knew that you’d return one day.

Your step is slower than before, for many years have passed,
And you have aged, as too have I, but I still flow as fast.

Come rest your body and your soul here by my crystal pools,
Where long ago, my glistening rocks, to you were precious jewels.”

The Silent Majority

22 Tuesday May 2018

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Australian poet, Far-left insanity, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry, Political Correctness, Socialism

There will be no girls and no boys.
All children will have the same toys.
But how could this be?
It’s easy to see:
The sane didn’t make enough noise.

Unisex toys

Bougainville

20 Sunday May 2018

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Arawa, Australian bush poetry, Australian traditional poetry, Bougainville Copper Limited, Bougainville Island, Bougainville War, Panguna, poem, poetry

So quick to strike are the seeds of war
And the harvest reaped is bitter.
An emerald jewel with a fatal flaw,
For a speck of hatred lay at its core
For the progress made and the rule of law
When the treasure had lost its glitter.

How many of you in your graves lie dead?
How many lives were shattered?
The coral sands now stained with red,
And the villages flaming as you fled
From the smothering smoke as your country bled –
To the four winds you were scattered.

The mine in the mountains gone to waste
And the towns where we lived all burned.
Repent at leisure for deeds in haste
For rebellion’s cup is with poison laced
As men go mad as your blood they taste
And too late is the lesson learned.

Where are you John, and Ambrose too?
Did you survive this madness?
And Bilou and Tioni, are they with you?
Tell me, who are left of our old crew?
Though I have asked, none said, none knew;
Seems all that’s left is sadness.

And what of the island I first saw
With the Crown Prince Range enshrouded
With cloud that turned to the smoke of war
As the future burned and the bullets tore –
Can it be plucked from the devil’s maw?
Is its fate forever clouded?

Hector

15 Tuesday May 2018

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

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Achilles, Anger of Achilles, Aphrodite, Apollo, Cypris, Death of Hector, Greek Mythology, Hector, Hector's body, Homer, Ilion, poem, poetry, Priam, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, The Iliad, Trojan War, Troy

Achilles’ anger was unquenched, and so,
Three times each day he dragged him through the dirt.
Yet he remained untarnished head to toe –
No bloodied flesh, no broken bones, no hurt
Showed on unblemished skin. Still and inert,
As if asleep, and no decay was seen.
It seemed by unseen armour he was girt,
For Cypris and Apollo kept him clean.
His wounds they’d closed, since, bloody and obscene,
His body had been taken from the field.
He’d fallen to the bronze so bright and keen,
Yet now the cuts that killed him were all healed.
Achilles longed to tear him limb from limb,
Whilst grieving Priam dreamed of burning him.

{Pic – The Triumph of Achilles by Franz von Matsch. {from Wikipedia}}

Snaggletooth

10 Thursday May 2018

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Humour

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Australian poet, Dentist, poem, poetry, Toothache

As old car bodies yield to rust,
So we decay – I feel concussed.
A tooth’s been torn from worn old gums,
And will be sorely missed by chums
Whose ranks are thinning. These brave chaps
Between them see the yawning gaps –
The fallen who have lost the fight.
But those few left – no longer white,
Must grind the gruel and chew the crust,
Until the last one bites the dust.

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