The Sonneteer!

Tags

Australian poet, poem, poetry, sonnet, sonneteer, Spenserian sonnet

Trigger Warning!

{I have, with some trepidation, published the following rather rude and insensitive sonnet due to the persistent urging of the author — an unfortunate and somewhat misguided acquaintance who refers to himself as “The Sonneteer”. This anti-social but arguably talented individual has been banned from all online platforms and I realize that I am taking a risk here in publishing his work, but feel it is my duty as a passionate supporter of free speech to give him a voice. I must, however, state very clearly that I do not necessarily condone the graphic language used nor the sentiments expressed by “The Sonneteer” and have warned him that while I wish to support him, the possibility of my posting any of his works (sonnets no doubt) in future will require a reasonable toning down of such profanity.}

The Sonneteer!

Come, sing high praises to the sonneteer!
And damn to Hades all those worn-out crocks —
Those fiends who’d mock him, and his good name smear.
Upon their houses and their heads a pox!
On them, from high, descend a rain of rocks!
And let them burn in Hell for wicked words!
The sonneteer knows well the knave who knocks
His works — he knows the smell of stinking turds
Of cawing crows and vultures — bitter birds
Who feast on carrion and call it art.
The sonneteer, his loins with courage girds,
And in the faces of such fools does fart!
He voids the moist miasma of his bowels
Unto the lungs of such fine-feathered fowls.

© The Sonneteer, 2019

Angling Adder

Tags

Australian poet, Fishing snake, poem, poetry

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐫

I said to the snake: ”Put it down!”
The snake hissed: “Would you see it drown?”
Replied I: “Reptilian beast —
You’re saving it — but for your feast.”

— D.N. O’Brien

Form

Tags

Australian poet, Building construction, Buildings, Formal poetry, Plumb and level, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Form

I’ve been a builder — buildings I have built
Weren’t crooked — they obeyed the timeless laws.
Foundations poured on rock, not sand or silt,
And concrete piers with steel rods at their cores,
That took the wooden joists that bore the floors.
And walls that were quite smooth and true and straight.
Then trusses, geometric, free of flaws,
With bottom chords fixed to the high top plate —
They’d shoulder with their strength the tiled roof’s weight.
All primed and painted — pleasing to the eye,
There stood the finished form. It’s fair to state,
(I doubt that any could in truth deny.)
A structure, if it is to make the grade,
Must be both plumb and level — and well made.

— D.N. O’Brien

Muellerisms

Tags

Australian poet, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry, Robert Mueller

Muellerisms

Bob’s Brain Burst

Mueller, I thought was the biz;
He must be a wizard — a whiz.
I listened and figured
This guy’s brain is jiggered!
I doubt that he knows who Trump is.

Bob’s Helping Hands

Listen up guys — give Mueller a break.
He’s under control for God’s sake.
He did quite okay,
Those pills saved the day —
At times he was almost awake.

Bob’s Day(s) off

Ring Mueller and tell him to stay
At home, he’s not needed today.
Oh sure he’s the boss
But he’s not worth a toss —
The old fart just gets in the way.

— D.N. O’Brien

Muddled Mueller

Tags

Australian poet, couplets, poem, poetry, Rhyming couplets, Robert Mueller

Muddled Mueller

Well Mueller has opened his mouth,
And Democrat hopes have gone south.

— D.N. O’Brien

Paddles Ardern’s Epitaph

Tags

Australian poet, Cat Epitaphs, Jacinda Ardern New Zealand Prime Minister, Paddles Ardern, Paddles Ardern run over by car, poem, poetry

{𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘈𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩-𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴,
(𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳)
𝘐 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘯 𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘩.}

𝐏𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧’𝐬 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐡

No longer will Paddles in puddles
Be paddling. No more Paddles’ cuddles,
For Paddles, in heavenly puddles
Now paddles, and cherubs he cuddles.

— D.N. O’Brien

Paddles Ardern RIP

Tags

Australian poet, Jacinda Ardern New Zealand Prime Minister, Paddles Ardern, poem, poetry

𝐏𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐑𝐈𝐏

Paddles, alas is no more,
And that is his hide on the floor.
The mouser and ratter
Is now somewhat flatter.
Road safety, cats shouldn’t ignore.

— D.N. O’Brien

Paddles run over by neighbour’s car

A Universal Problem

Tags

A Singularity, Atheism, Australian poet, Big Bang Theory, Creation of the Universe, Formal poetry, God and Science, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

A Universal Problem

The atheist, he counters faith with fact.
He says that all religions are a lie.
He claims the scientists have all but cracked
The complex code — the age old question: Why?
Why are we here? And where, when humans die,
Do their poor souls reside? There is no place,
No hell below, no heaven up on high
He claims. The awful truth we all must face:
No god bestows on any man his grace;
No soul remains and flesh goes back to ground —
The dust that coats a rock that spins in space.
But is belief based on but science sound?
“The Universe” — a grand scientific name;
But who designed the point from which it came?

— D.N. O’Brien

Donald the Amateur Politician

Tags

Australian poet, Donald Trump, poem, poetry, Trump hits 50% approval

𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧

The Donald appeals to just half —
The ones who at satire can laugh.
But 50% still aren’t buyers —
Preferring professional liars.

— D.N. O’Brien

Winded

Tags

Australian poet, Bob Brown of the Greens, Environmentalists, greens, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry, Wind farms

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

The greenies are feeling let down.
Each pale intense face wears a frown.
In him they believed,
But they’ve just received
A kick in the crotch from Bob Brown.

— D.N. O’Brien

Bob Brown upsets green friends