Doctor Death’s World Tour

Tags

Abortion, Abortion doctors, Abortion on demand, Australian poet, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Doctor Death’s World Tour

I hear each story – sometimes shed a tear;
But wield my weapons for the woman’s sake.
I make the little devils disappear.
They can’t fight back, so it’s a piece of cake.
It’s sad I know, but with the cash I make,
It’s on a worldwide cruise I soon will go.
Old Europe, and the Med, Geneva’s lake,
And India, the tropics where winds blow
So warm, and too, the land of ice and snow –
Siberia – the steppes so vast and wide.
I’ll see the deserts, and the great Nile flow
In Egypt – on a camel I will ride
To see the sphinx – I’ll climb the pyramids.
I need a break from daily killing kids.

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Bill’s Boats

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Australia stops illegal boat people, Australian Labor Party, Australian Liberal Party, Australian poet, Bill Shorten Labor Leader, Formal poetry, Illegal immigration, Manus Island, Nauru, Offshore processing of boat people, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Turning back the boats

Bill’s Boats

With Bill in charge the boats will soon be back.
Wrecks once again will sail the briny seas.
Of “refugees” there will not be a lack,
As Labor and the Greens rush to appease
The U.N. – they will fall upon their knees
And beg forgiveness for sins of the past:
The mercilessness of their enemies –
The Liberal scum who on a far isle cast
The people of the boats – soon at half-mast
They’ll fly the flag, and mourn all those returned
To their homelands – state: “They will be the last!
Let no more boats be sunk! Let none be burned!”
Flotillas gather on those distant shores.
The going price to smuggle people soars.

Under Labor illegal boat arrivals will resume

Hand Grenade Instructors

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, Hand grenade instructors, Hand grenades, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Hand Grenade Instructors

It’s not a job most people would desire;
The guys who do it always seem so tense.
They count each day until they can retire.
Their extra pay is little recompense
For teaching those without an ounce of sense,
And petrified with fear, just how to throw
Grenades – the strain I guess must be immense.
Some fool beside you with a bomb – you know
That he may drop the bloody thing and blow
You both to Hell: “Don’t panic – pull the pin.
You see those dummies lined up in a row?
Now throw!” – the trainee’s face twists in a grin.
The primed grenade drops as his body shakes;
And in a cold sweat the instructor wakes.

10 Grenade fails

𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝕰𝖓𝖌𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, England, Formal poetry, Islamization, Italian sonnet, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Richard II, sonnet, This England, William Shakespeare

𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝕰𝖓𝖌𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉

This island that once ruled the seven seas.
This misty Eden with her wide-spanned moat.
This land of which the greatest poet wrote
The finest verses – she is on her knees.
The quislings genuflect, the Lords appease.
The foe they flatter, as they seek his vote.
Gone are the Princes and the Knights of note,
And to the gates the traitors have the keys.

Is there a cure for this infected Isle?
Is there a remedy? Unhappy men
Know but too well what is the fate of fools
Who turn a blind eye to the villain’s guile.
The gem’s within his grasp – no poet’s pen
Can help defend a house where weakness rules.

Cannabusiness (sonnet version)

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Canada legalizes marijuana, Cannabis, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Cannabusiness (sonnet version)

Canadians will very soon be stoned,
For Canada is legalizing weed.
What was condemned before will be condoned,
For after all, there is a pressing need
To calm the discontented – it’s not greed
That drives this move (there’s money to be made?)
But cool progressive attitudes – indeed,
Although the dealers will be richly paid,
This has been by the virtuous okayed,
For it will be of benefit to all.
The worries of the populace will fade,
From Vancouver to east of Montreal.
Make cookies, cakes, and candy, or smoke joints –
So many ways to lose those IQ points.

The Problematic Pachyderm

Tags

Australian poet, Elephant in the room, Pachyderm, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Stupidity, Willful blindness

The Problematic Pachyderm

Ignore it! Just pretend that it’s not there!
That is a darkened corner of the room
Where it is not! Its presence we can’t bear!
For seeing it would surely spell our doom!
If you don’t wish to moulder in your tomb,
Don’t look in that direction! That is not
An elephant! A shadow in the gloom
Is all that is, you blind half-witted clot!
It looks like one? Oh what a load of rot!
Okay, it looks a bit like one, but hey!
It’s not! Don’t mention it – we’ll all be shot!
With luck, the bloody thing will go away –
The thing that isn’t there. Oh no!….we’re sunk!
What’s got big ears, is grey, and has a trunk?

The Melian Dialogue

Tags

Ancient Greece, Athenian Empire, Athens, Delian League, Greece, Italian sonnet, Melos, Peloponnesian League, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Siege of Melos, sonnet, Sparta, Spartan, Spenserian sonnet, The Cyclades, The Melian Debate, The Melian Dialogue, The Peloponnese, The Peloponnesian War, Thucydides

The Melian Dialogue

Now Melians, consider what we ask:
Swear loyalty to us and none shall die.
For what’s transpired we’ll not take you to task;
But now surrender, lest our arrows fly.
Athenians – surrender? – tell us why?
Our city, in this war it takes no side,
Though it is true to Sparta we’ve a tie.
But you, so mighty – can it be denied
That Melos could not swell the Spartan tide?
We won’t accept your claimed neutrality,
For Spartan ships, your harbour they have plied.
We’ll have no truck with weak morality –
To conquer you is right; it would be wrong
To spare you – Athens must be seen as strong!

Would you alarm the other neutral states?
Will they not think it’s Athens they must fear?
Our friends and allies know we hold them dear.
Not one, we think, disloyalty contemplates;
To Sparta they will not open their gates.
But island states that are to Sparta near,
Towards which may those Spartan triremes steer;
Their destinies we’ll not leave to the Fates.
It would be shameful were we not to fight!
Oh no, not shameful – you would surely lose.
We are the stronger – you would all be slain.
But we believe there is a chance despite
Your strength, and so we feel that we must choose
To stand and fight – perhaps a victory gain!

The Spartans too will come to our defence.
Self-interested Spartans fight to win
A victory for you? – they have more sense!
They will, we think, for Spartans are our kin.
With them we share our ways – our discipline.
And too, the gods are on our side – we’ll fight!
The Spartans would not spread their ships so thin.
Our navy would put such a force to flight.
The gods will watch as weakness yields to might.
So one last time we ask you – make your choice.
Think of your people – make the one that’s right.
We men of Melos answer with one voice:
Return to Athens, tell them we’ll not yield!
Oh foolish Melos! – now your fate is sealed.

The Melian Dialogue

Rover

Tags

Australian poet, Dead dogs, Dog skull, Logical fallacies, Nonsense verse, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Rover

Alas poor Rover, he is losing weight.
I try to tempt him with the choicest meat,
But no, he doesn’t stir – old faithful mate.
I plead with him, but Rover just won’t eat.
No longer does his friendly “woof woof!” greet
His friend and master, me, when I return
To my abode – he is no longer fleet
Of foot. What’s more he doesn’t wish to learn
New tricks – and now I think I do discern
That good old Rover may in fact be dead
And gone – that Rover’s taken quite a turn,
And for the worst – he’s but a bony head,
Poor mutt – no wonder he has been so dull –
A dog can’t wag its tail when just a skull.

The vet tells me that Rover is deceased.
He’s been dead for some time apparently.
The vet, after examining the beast,
Arrived at that conclusion for a fee –
A handsome fee in fact – he said: “I see
No body and no legs or paws – a head
Is all that’s left of him – do you agree?”
“Oh yes indeed, it’s plain to see!” I said,
“Is that why Rover refused to be fed?”
“Such dogs, I’ve found don’t eat”, replied the vet.
I countered: “Dogs that won’t eat then are dead?”
The vet: “You are the strangest man I’ve met –
He’s dead – the consultation is complete.”
I said: “Well I knew that! – he wouldn’t eat!”

{Photo by D.N. O’Brien {published with Rover’s permission}}

Blessed Birds

Tags

Australian poet, Birds, Formal poetry, King Parrots, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Blessed Birds

It’s said that life is suffering, yet birds
That come to my backyard don’t suffer so.
They seem quite happy, speaking, not with words,
But songs, of chirps and whistles – they don’t know
What lies in store for them – each day they go
About their business with no thought of what
May come. And when in winter, chill winds blow,
They don’t complain, nor when the wind blows hot.
Perched in a tree, the future matters not –
They sing, for they are blessed with tiny brains;
Have not the power to worry, plan or plot.
It’s true they look bedraggled when it rains,
But soon they shake their feathers and they’re dry.
And though they don’t think deeply…..they can fly.

{Photo – D.N. O’Brien}

The Old Soldier

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, Italian sonnet, Old soldiers, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Sacrifice in war, sonnet

The Old Soldier

He sits there in the winter’s morning sun.
His pale blue eyes have faded with the years,
And shed in solitude some bitter tears.
This man so frail, could he have been the one
Whose wasted arms once held a victor’s gun?
He’s seen the darker side, no death he fears,
But as the day of reckoning it nears,
He wonders was the loss worth what was won.

His life, a story mixed of hope and toil.
The years have gone – how rapidly they fly.
And now he sees the enemy is nigh –
A foe no bullet and no steel can foil.
To fight and win but finally to die,
And gain at last a tiny patch of soil.