The Last Day

Tags

poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲

I worked with a man who was young and smart;
He was honest too, as the day is long.
Forty years ago did our paths then part,
And I thought forever, but I was wrong.
When I’d last known him he was straight and strong,
But the man I met on the year’s last day,
To my memories he did not belong:
He was bowed and bent and his hair was grey,
And he said as I shook his hand: “G’day”
In a feeble voice, (Oh his hand was cold),
And he gazed at me in the strangest way,
And he softly said: “Well you have grown old.”

So we reminisced, then said our goodbyes,
And he shuffled off — with his two good eyes.

— D.N. O’Brien

Eurasian Girl

Tags

Australian poet, Eurasians, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Singapore Eurasians

𝐄𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

Eurasian girl, I knew you well —
Your lips, your almond eyes, your smell;
And now I hear that you have died.
I promised I’d return……..I lied.

— D.N. O’Brien

Day and Night

Tags

Australian poet, poem, poetry

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Fiercely, the fire, did the strong day stoke,
And up to the sky billowed flames and smoke;
But then came the night and the fire grew old —
Where it once burned bright, now its ash lay cold.

— D.N. O’Brien

Certa Cito

Tags

121 Signal Squadron, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, Gough Whitlam, poem, poetry, Royal Australian Signal Corps, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝑪𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂 𝑪𝒊𝒕𝒐

The plan is hatched by foolish faceless men.
The squadron’s fate by treachery is sealed.
The method and the why, the where, the when,
Is to the gathered malcontents revealed.
All that the patriotic have concealed
Will be exposed just when the time is right;
The squadron will be banished from the field —
Its troops will be destroyed without a fight —
All trace of it will fade into the night,
And none will mourn its swift and sure demise;
And on its fate no one will shine a light.
But those who filled its ranks — its ears and eyes,
Who served and sweated on that Asian Hill,
They know how easily mere words can kill.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Greatest Game

Tags

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

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

The greatest game is darts — and I must say,
Dart players are the fittest men of all —
Just watch these perfect specimens at play!
No matter whether they are short or tall,
These mighty marksmen with their skills enthral.
Like little arrows shot from bended bows,
Their darts fly at the board upon the wall.
How do they execute such perfect throws?
The dart is held with flights close to the nose,
Then with a smooth movement of arm and wrist,
Toward the triple 20, off it goes,
And seldom is that tiny target missed.
So hail these sportsmen — raise a mighty cheer
To champions of chips, meat pies, and beer.

— D.N. O’Brien

Scarecrow

Tags

Australian poet, Donald Trump, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry, Scarecrow, Strawman

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

He’s a bully, a racist, a boor!
A misogynist — lots and lots more!
Is he solid and real?
Of course not! Here’s the deal —
He’s an image we’ve built out of straw.

— D.N. O’Brien

A Killer

Tags

Australian poet, poem, poetry

𝐀 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Two soldiers in an empty room.
One on his bed, a tale he read.

Bleak barracks, sombre like a tomb;
The second woke and quietly spoke:

“I feel this day a sense of doom,
For with a knife I took a life.”

The other answered in the gloom:
“Then I must know — a friend or foe?

I think a foe — that I’ll assume —
The one who fell — so all is well.”

And so did silence then resume;
But one, afraid, he clutched a blade.

— D.N. O’Brien

Lockdown Larry

Tags

Australian poet, Covid lockdowns, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, Lockdown zealots, poem, poetry

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲

Lockdown for a year and a day!
Or maybe two years — either way,
I am safe and secure;
I have solid tenure —
Sitting back and collecting my pay!

— D.N. O’Brien

Devious Demos

Tags

Democratic Party, DNA, Election rigging 2020, poem, poetry

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐬

Unfairly is just how they play.
They simply know no other way.
It’s how they are spawned —
(Okay, you’ve been warned)
It’s in Democrat DNA.

— D.N. O’Brien

TIME Lords

Tags

Australian poet, poem, poetry, TIME Magazine cover

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒

TIME magazine has honoured sleepy Joe,
And too his multiple-box-ticking hoe.
Why would one doubt these giants of our TIME?
Between them they pulled off the perfect crime.

— D.N. O’Brien