A Present Peril

Tags

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

𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐥

We are their avowed enemies,
Yet we do and we say as we please.
From our numerous spires
We call out: “Stoke the fires!”
While they worry about the Chinese.

— D.N. O’Brien

Cicero Silenced

Tags

Ancient Rome, Australian poet, Cicero, Death of Cicero, Formal poetry, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, Marcus Tullius Cicero, Mark Antony, Octavian, poem, poetry, Second Triumvirate, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐂𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝

The senate will no longer hear his words.
Herennius has stilled the traitor’s tongue.
By citizens, by slaves, and by the birds,
His praises are no longer to be sung.
His works into the Tiber must be flung.
His theories, but the ramblings of a fool.
His famous oratory, worthless dung.
His poems and his prose, seditious fuel.
The tomes must say that Marcus was a tool
Of those who would deny the good and great.
None may impede the three destined to rule —
So Cicero — forgotten be his fate.
See there his body and his severed head!
Go tell the trio — Cicero is dead.

— D.N. O’Brien

Yesterday

Tags

Australian poet, ChiCom, Chinese Communist Party, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry, WuFlu crisis

𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

The ChiComs are bad? Ya don’t say!
But they were our pals yesterday!
In those recent times
We knew of their crimes,
But smiled and looked the other way.

— D.N. O’Brien

A Real Plague

Tags

Australian poet, Grim reaper, Plague, plague doctors, poem, poetry, scythe, Triolet, WuFlu crisis

𝕬 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖑 𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖚𝖊

The plague has passed; the reaper’s scythe is sheathed!
Though half the people lie beneath the loam.
If doctors of the plague can be believed,
The plague has passed; the reaper’s scythe is sheathed.
Go to each house and tell the poor bereaved:
(That’s if there is a living soul at home)
The plague has passed; the reaper’s scythe is sheathed!
Though half the people lie beneath the loam.

— D.N. O’Brien

’54

Tags

Australian poet, Childhood memories, poem, poetry

‘𝟓𝟒

First memories my mind recalls:
Wet streaks upon the canvas walls,
The steady rain a soft lament,
The jumbled stuff within the tent,
All that we had in one small space,
The beauty of my mother’s face,
Skinned knees, and measles, chicken pox,
A dwelling built of cinder blocks,
My father lifting me on high,
My wonder at the pale blue sky,
A soldier’s trunk, with spoils of war.
Some memories of fifty four.

— D.N. O’Brien

Jane

Tags

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

Jane

Thai was her mother, Portuguese her dad.
A waitress working in old Singapore.
Eurasian face so pretty yet so sad,
Hinted of disappointments borne before:
Perhaps a soldier wearied by the war —
A brief but torrid tropic love affair;
Or else a Yankee sailor cast ashore?
These thoughts passed through my mind — why did I care?
Why not then ask her? Really, would I dare?
I held my breath, arose, and called her near —
So close to me, her face, her jet-black hair,
The scent of her — the memories so dear.

Those recollections in my mind remain.
Where are you now, my lovely lady Jane?

— D.N. O’Brien

The Frightened Ones

Tags

Australian poet, Culture of fear, Fear, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬

It is the era of the frightened ones —
The trembling terrified who freeze in fright.
They’re terrified of viruses and guns,
And anything that goes bump in the night.
Of snakes and spiders and potato blight.
Of mice and elephants and also bears;
And darkness, one must not turn off the light
When they’re asleep — they’ll be killed in nightmares!
They’re scared of ants and certain plants and hares,
And every type of mole; and humming birds.
They’re scared of circles, rectangles and squares,
And poets who write poems with big words.
They’re scared of clocks and smelly socks and elves.
But what they’re really scared of is……. themselves.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Viral Solution

Tags

Australian poet, bats, Covid19 crisis, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry, Viruses, WuFlu crisis

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

They are basically aerial rats,
And they plaster the world with their scats.
They are full of disease,
And they do as they please.
I suggest we exterminate bats.

— D.N. O’Brien

Two Worlds

Tags

Australian poet, poem, poetry, State Secrecy, State secrets, Triolet, Two Worlds

Two Worlds

There are two worlds — just one is known by most.
It is the one that everybody sees.
The other haunts the shadows like a ghost.
There are two worlds — just one is known by most,
And those who know the second never post
Its whereabouts, and where are kept the keys.
There are two worlds — just one is known by most.
It is the one that everybody sees.

— D.N. O’Brien

Simoeisios

Tags

Aias, Ajax, Australian poet, Homer, Italian sonnet, Mount Ida, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Simoeis River, Simoeisios, sonnet, Telamonian Aias, The Iliad, The Trojan Plain, The Trojan War, Troy

𝙎𝙞𝙢𝙤𝙚𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙨

You fell just as a smooth-barked poplar would.
The spear from Ajax struck you in the chest.
Anthemion’s brave son — he loved you best,
As did your mother. On that field you stood,
A young man, yet unmarried, strong and good;
In armour brightly shining you were dressed.
But no cuirass would shield your noble breast,
For from the arm of Ajax nothing could.

Born by the river that bequeathed your name;
Upon a water meadow you were laid.
Then raised to be your parent’s pride and joy,
Though never would their kindness be repaid.
In bloom of youth, up to the front you came,
To fall and rot upon the plain of Troy.

— D.N. O’Brien