700Z

Tags

700Z, Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Triolet

𝟕𝟎𝟎𝐙

We heard the story of his sad demise.

Concocted, we all thought, but never said.

Out on parade beneath the warm blue skies,

We heard the story of his sad demise.

Was best to just pretend, most thought it wise,

And after all, an officer was dead.

We heard the story of his sad demise.

Concocted, we all thought, but never said.

Now fifty years have passed and memories fade,

And those who still remember, they are few.

No flowers upon a tropic grave are laid,

Now fifty years have passed and memories fade.

The past is gone, what’s done can’t be unmade,

But words can still be written, and be true.

Now fifty years have passed and memories fade,

And those who still remember, they are few.

— D.N. O’Brien