𝐁𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞

Tags

ANZAC Day, Australian poet, poem, poetry, Triolet

𝐁𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐫  𝐁𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞

Australia Day has come and gone and well,

Like Anzac Day they say that it divides.

What, more divided? How on Earth to tell?

Australia Day has come and gone and well,

As long as we buy what the bastards sell,

We’re sure to finish up on different sides.

Australia Day has come and gone and well,

Like Anzac Day they say that it divides.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Triolet

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

My neighbour has just bought a machine gun.

He says he’s only bought it for defence.

He digging in — it’s looking like Verdun.

My neighbour has just bought a machine gun.

He’s buying ammunition by the ton.

Hostilities may very soon commence.

My neighbour has just bought a machine gun.

He says he’s only bought it for defence.

— D.N. O’Brien

Hit the road Jac!

Tags

Australian poet, Jacinda Ardern New Zealand Prime Minister, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

𝐇𝐢𝐭  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝  𝐉𝐚𝐜!

She’s fallen — farewell Kiwi sister.

Goodbye, have her faithful fans kissed her.

She’d bit off far more

Than her impressive jaw

Could chew — so adieu communista.

— D.N. O’Brien

Soledar Dreaming

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Russo / Ukraine war, Soledar, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Ukraine war

The town of salt, the fortress, is no more.

The Wagnerites have brought it to the ground.

The tipping point of this most bloody war

Is reached, as to the west the big guns pound

Retreating beaten men, not homeward bound,

But to a new graveyard, there to expire

And go to pieces, never to be found

Amongst the rotting fragments in the mire.

In Kyiv the thespian, unrivalled liar,

This hero of a West that’s lost its way,

Tastes of the meat he draws forth from the fire,

And in his thoughtlessness is heard to say:

 “I do believe it needs a little salt.”

The sleeping soldier wakens with a jolt.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐀 𝐄𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, poem, poetry

𝐀 𝐄𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

The Russians supply us with great gobs of gas,

But we’ll tell the Ivans: “Stick it up your ass!”

We’ve got solar panels and wind-power too.

We’ll have electricity up the kazoo!

The Russians will starve and the ruble will tank.

(We’ve got our American allies to thank!)

Damn! Here comes the winter — it’s getting quite cold.

(The Chinese and Russians are buying up gold)

Our windmills aren’t turning, and grey is the sky!

The lights are not working and no one knows why.

The Russians are flogging their gas to the East.

The ruble by huge leaps and bounds has increased.

The temperature now drops to minus degrees.

If it gets much lower than we will all freeze,

But not so the Russians, they’re happy and warm.

I look out the window — we’re in for a storm,

A snow-storm that is, well I’m hungry and tired,

The sanctions, I’m starting to think, have backfired.

— D.N. O’Brien

In the Army!

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

𝐈𝐧  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐲!

You know what I’ve been thinking?

That soldiers’ balls are shrinking.

For in the ranks

They’re firing blanks,

And at each other winking.

— D.N. O’Brien

Expired

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Russo / Ukraine war

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝  

Find  weapons we can send to poor Ukraine!

But nothing new, for that would be insane.

Just stuff that is beyond its use by date.

Let’s face it — it will soon be in a state

Of disorder — complete disintegration.

One shell and it will be a conflagration;

A sacrifice to our war of attrition;

A target for damned Russian ammunition.

Oh yes we all agree it’s a sad story,

But we must clear out all stale inventory.

And when the last old piece of junk is gone

We’ll order lots of stuff from Raytheon.

— D.N. O’Brien

It’s God’s Truth

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Western Decline

𝗜𝘁’𝘀  𝗚𝗼𝗱’𝘀  𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗵

I went unto the playing fields to check upon our youth.

I went and saw the conquered and I uttered quietly: “Struth!”

I searched in vain for brave young men; I searched but few could see.

I watched the heroes of each sport go down upon one knee.

I listened to the commentariat, their words so barmy.

I came back home and wrote this down: “We couldn’t raise an army”.

— D.N. O’Brien

Cold War

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Russo ? Ukraine War, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

The colours, yellow, blue, and white, and red,

Adorn the bodies lying in the snow.

The living, coloured so, pass by the dead

As onwards to uncertain fate they go.

The naked frosted trees, row after row,

Give little shelter as the last leaves fall.

The bitter cold it bites as chill winds blow.

A coat of ice clings to each shattered wall.

While into frozen rubble cold men crawl,

High in the safety of the sombre clouds  

Watch soulless robots, and the shots they call,

And blackness blows and cloaks white winter shrouds.

Comes night, when cold into each bone it seeps.

The soldier says once more his prayers, and sleeps.

— D.N. O’Brien

Winter Offensive

The ground it slowly freezes in Ukraine,

So soon the Russians will be making tracks.

Upon the wounded Earth the rockets rain,

As to Donbas the Russians turn their backs.

The engines roar; the tanks roll north and west;

On frozen-solid soil they race ahead —

Steel warriors that never pause to rest,

Unlike, beneath the snow, the stone-cold dead.

— D.N. O’Brien