Calypso

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Calypso, Formal poetry, Greek Mythology, Homer, Nymph, Odysseus, Ogygia, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, The Odyssey

Calypso

Odysseus yearns for Penelope.
The Nymph Calypso, in her vaulted cave,
Says never will he cross the wine-dark sea,
For she must keep the hero as her slave –
Her slave to love – from cruel Poseidon save.
For should Odysseus from her isle sail,
The Earth-shaker will send him to his grave.
He’ll buffet him with waves, lightning and gale,
And shatter on high seas his raft so frail,
Thus on Odysseus take his revenge;
Or so he thinks – his efforts all will fail.
Odysseus will reach home and avenge
The honour of his wife – her suitors kill;
As fair Calypso bows to Zeus’ will.

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Choosing Sides

Tags

Australian poet, Civil War, Divided nations, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

It’s come to this – you must choose where you stand.
No longer can you sit upon the fence.
You must comply, or join the outlaw band.
Become a drone, or keep your soul and sense.
And if you choose the later, your defence
Will need attending to, you’ll be attacked;
For you will be a threat to order, hence
Be on your guard, and counter lie with fact.
The former by their powerful friends are backed;
They have infernal forces on their side.
With “useful fools” their rabid ranks are packed;
You’ll have but logic – and no place to hide.
The choice is yours – I hope you get it right;
You’re not the kind of guy I wish to fight.

A Gulag Holiday!

Tags

Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn, Australian poet, Deaths in the Gulags, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Siberia, sonnet, Soviet Union, Soviet Union political prisoners, Spenserian sonnet, The Gulag Archipelago, Trans rights campaigners at Goldsmiths University

A Gulag Holiday!

The Gulags were quite pleasant really, so,
How did A. Solzhenitsyn get it wrong?
The inmates used to frolic in the snow!
They’d celebrate each day with dance and song!
They’d dine on gruel and grilled rats, and grow strong!
Siberia was just the place to be.
Ten years (on average) wasn’t very long –
You got an education – and for free!
But Solzhenitsyn? Not his cup of tea.
Some Russian writers were so hard to please.
Recalcitrants would even try to flee;
But in Siberia you tend to freeze
Out in the open; but, spoilsports were rare.
Most happy campers wish they were still there.

Soviet Gulags were compassionate

Banished!

Tags

Alex Jones, Australian poet, Formal poetry, Infowars, poem, poetry, Radical Left, Social media banning of conservatives, Social media censorship, Socialism, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Banished!

He disagrees with our most sacred views.
He has millions of followers it’s said.
He claims that we’re conveyors of fake news.
(That’s news? We after all share the same bed!)
By poor misguided people he is read.
It would be best if he would disappear.
A snake will die if you cut off its head;
A body minus fangs one needn’t fear.
Of course his friends and followers will jeer.
They’ll no doubt say that we have been unkind;
But it’s a leftward course that we must steer,
And to the left must turn each fragile mind.
He must be silenced, lest some be beguiled
By his damned facts – do we agree? – Exiled!

A Hero Dies

Tags

Australian poet, Courage in war, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Unsung war heroes, War heroes

A Hero Dies

Oh yes, he was a hero – that is true.
But in that conflict there were thousands more.
The recognized among them are but few –
A careless hand deals out the cards of war.
Those who still live, and those now buried bore
That burden, and returned to start again;
They’d not let bitterness bite at their core.
Our hero rose above those common men,
(Or should I say uncommon) even then
He didn’t show what he had locked inside.
But came defeat – and later, that was when
What gnawed at him, no longer could he hide.
A hero? – sure, such men are spawned in wars;
They’ve measures both of courage and of flaws.

Bad Bunnies

Tags

Australian poet, Cardinal Blase Cupich, Catholic Church sexual abuse allegations, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Pope Francis, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Bad Bunnies

I spied a warren in an old churchyard –
A diocese of rabbits – all diseased.
By an affliction each of them was marred,
And every one I saw, it coughed and wheezed.
One hopped over and peered at me – I seized
It by the neck and looked into its eyes;
Blood-shot they were, the rabbit sniffed and sneezed,
Then said: “I am their leader – and my lies
They thought were truth, for they think I am wise.
This churchyard once was consecrated ground.
Now evil’s buried here in hope it dies;
But one day, when God wills, it will be found.
You ask me what has poisoned every soul?
You’ll find the answer down the rabbit hole.”

{I wrote this after reading No Big Deal at
Flammeus Gladius}

Holodomor

Tags

Communism, Deaths due to Communism, Holodomor, Joseph Stalin, poem, poetry, Radical socialism, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, The Kulaks, The Ukraine, Totalitarianism, Ukrainian famine, Ukrainian genocide, Ukriane, USSR

Holodomor

In the Ukraine the Kulaks tilled the soil
To grow the grain to make the daily bread.
Was by their enterprise and by their toil,
That all who lived in the Ukraine were fed.
But now their neighbour Russia burned bright red,
And Stalin said: “The Kulaks all must die!
For by their class our enemies are led –
And our collectivism they defy.
Without them there will be no wheat or rye.
The fields where grain once grew will then be bare,
And in their millions will the dead there lie.”
So for the vanished Kulaks say a prayer.
Think for a moment of their pain and fear;
And don’t think it could never happen here.

Holodomor documentary

Frank Slide

Tags

Alberta, Australian poet, Canada, Canadian Rockies, Crowsnest Pass, Formal poetry, Frank Slide, Frank Slide poem, poem, poetry, Spenserian sonnet, Turtle Mountain

Don’t make your camp beneath its towering peaks.
So said the ancient ones – the mountain moans.
Sometimes it moves, sometimes it loudly speaks
Of grinding pain within its brittle bones.
And when it shivers it shakes loose the stones,
And down its furrowed flanks they swiftly roll.
Yet brave men turned a deaf ear to its groans,
And rushed to mine its gleaming seams of coal.
But Nature’s force no mortal men control,
And deep within – the mountain’s rocky heart
It broke, and terrible would be the toll;
For with a roar the east face fell apart.
And many who on that grey morning died,
Still sleep beneath the rubble of Frank Slide.

Frank Slide

Temmuz

Tags

"EZEL" Turkish drama series, Ali Pliers, Australian poet, Barış Falay, Ezel, poem, poetry, Rıza Kocaoğlu, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Temmuz, Turkish TV

{Spoiler alert for those who watch “EZEL”}

Temmuz

He is the homicidal maniac,
Who wears, each time he kills, a different pair
Of boots – once booted, Temmuz can attack.
With his blue eyes, at victims he will stare,
Then kill them in cold blood – he doesn’t care,
For he’s a contract-killer. With a knife
He’ll stab, and twist until the sinews tear.
He’ll kill a man; he’ll kill a child, a wife.
It matters not to him, he’ll take a life
Without a thought, for he is hard and cold.
His world is one of murder, blood, and strife.
But Temmuz, he will not be growing old;
The Turk will soon be buried with his boots,
When Ali fills his mouth with steel, and shoots.

Strong and Diverse Melbournians

Tags

Araluen Queensland, Australian poet, Balkanization, Divide and Rule, Division, Formal poetry, Melbourne Australia, multiculturalism, National Identity, poem, poetry, Queensland, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Strength in Diversity, Tribalism, Uncontrolled immigration, Victoria

I’ve just returned from Melbourne – it’s diverse!
I could have been in Europe – it’s so cool!
In fifty different languages they curse;
You’ll never find a more scattered gene pool!
I guess this happens when progressives rule –
Their progress means you can’t tell where you are!
You don’t like it? Hey man, you are a fool!
No longer do you need to travel far –
Just take a stroll – no need to drive your car –
It’s Africa! It’s Asia! – Middle East!
There’s yellow, white, and brown, and black as tar!
Humanity in all its forms – a feast!
Sad…..now I’m back in regional Queensland;
Damn! – Everyone I meet I understand.