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~ All Poetry ยฉ Dennis N. O'Brien, 2010 – 2019

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Category Archives: Sonnet

Death of a Giant

08 Monday Feb 2021

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Observation, Sonnet

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Australian poet, Decline of civilizations, Decline of empires, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Rise and Fall, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

๐ƒ๐ž๐š๐ญ๐ก ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐š ๐†๐ข๐š๐ง๐ญ

Youโ€™ve had your time for basking in the sun,
But everything must die, even a giant.
Your face is pale โ€” your race is almost run โ€”
No longer are you fearless and defiant.
You once were dominant and self-reliant,
But now the dwarves have tied you to the ground.
You have become pathetic and compliant โ€”
With bonds of your own making you are bound.
The dwarves all cheer โ€” a little man is crowned โ€”
He reads his speech โ€” the writingโ€™s on the wall.
His dwarfish slurring words declared profound
By all the dwarves who engineered your fall.
You breathe your last; the sky is dull and grey.
A scribe records: a giant has died this day.

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

A Discarded Inauguration Day Sonnet

30 Saturday Jan 2021

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire, Sonnet

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, Inauguration Day Poem, Joe Biden inauguration, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

๐€ ๐ƒ๐ข๐ฌ๐œ๐š๐ซ๐๐ž๐ ๐ˆ๐ง๐š๐ฎ๐ ๐ฎ๐ซ๐š๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐ƒ๐š๐ฒ ๐’๐จ๐ง๐ง๐ž๐ญ

In praise of Joe this poem I have writ.
But Iโ€™ll not mention any of his flaws โ€”
His hair-sniffing, his groping, all that shit;
His keen support for all those foreign wars.
I love him, for heโ€™s opened many doors
For me, a budding poet laureate.
Oh I know old Joe farts โ€” at times he snores;
But heโ€™ll be dead before long โ€” you can bet
Your house on that. Still, let us not regret
Selecting this frail, barely conscious guy
To lead our fast decaying nation โ€” let
Him show the way as all the old ways die.

Iโ€™ll start again and throw this in the bin.
Iโ€™ll write some whiny waffle โ€” that should win!

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

A Giant Awakens

25 Monday Jan 2021

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Historical, Observation, Sonnet

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

australia, Australia Day, Australian poet, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

๐€ ๐†๐ข๐š๐ง๐ญ ๐€๐ฐ๐š๐ค๐ž๐ง๐ฌ

You slumbered in the south whilst all around,
The world closed in as daring men set sail.
Before long would your barren shores be found,
As eastward did the roaring forties wail.
These sailors and their nations, would prevail โ€”
Your stone-age people would be swept aside;
Their ancient ways dispersed before the gale.
Theyโ€™d built no walls to stop the rising tide;
Your moat was crossed; they had no place to hide.
And so did you awaken โ€” and in fright!
As to the world your eyes were opened wide.
You rose from sleep โ€” emerged into the light,
And saw the old ways were forever dead.
Your heart was filled with hope โ€” and too with dread.

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

Joe Blow

18 Monday Jan 2021

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire, Sonnet

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Australian poet, Inauguration Day, Joe Biden, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

๐‰๐จ๐ž ๐๐ฅ๐จ๐ฐ

Youโ€™ve banished Donald to the flaming pit;
So take the throne that you have slyly earned.
Joe, you have shown that surely does the shit
Float to the top โ€” the tide of truth youโ€™ve turned.
Your gaze averted as the cities burned;
As BLM supporters took their loot.
You and your Democrats were unconcerned
When masked ANTIFA thugs put in the boot.
Who would have thought that a demented coot
Would lead the greatest country on the Earth?
But votes were harvested โ€” low-hanging fruit,
And even rotten windfalls were of worth.
Though youโ€™re a husk that time will blow away,
Wake up Joe! Itโ€™s Inauguration Day!

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

The Last Day

31 Thursday Dec 2020

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Humour, Nature, Observation, Sonnet

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

๐“๐ก๐ž ๐‹๐š๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ƒ๐š๐ฒ

I worked with a man who was young and smart;
He was honest too, as the day is long.
Forty years ago did our paths then part,
And I thought forever, but I was wrong.
When Iโ€™d last known him he was straight and strong,
But the man I met on the yearโ€™s last day,
To my memories he did not belong:
He was bowed and bent and his hair was grey,
And he said as I shook his hand: โ€œGโ€™dayโ€
In a feeble voice, (Oh his hand was cold),
And he gazed at me in the strangest way,
And he softly said: โ€œWell you have grown old.โ€

So we reminisced, then said our goodbyes,
And he shuffled off โ€” with his two good eyes.

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

Certa Cito

27 Sunday Dec 2020

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Historical, Observation, Sonnet, War

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

121 Signal Squadron, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, Gough Whitlam, poem, poetry, Royal Australian Signal Corps, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

๐‘ช๐’†๐’“๐’•๐’‚ ๐‘ช๐’Š๐’•๐’

The plan is hatched by foolish faceless men.
The squadronโ€™s fate by treachery is sealed.
The method and the why, the where, the when,
Is to the gathered malcontents revealed.
All that the patriotic have concealed
Will be exposed just when the time is right;
The squadron will be banished from the field โ€”
Its troops will be destroyed without a fight โ€”
All trace of it will fade into the night,
And none will mourn its swift and sure demise;
And on its fate no one will shine a light.
But those who filled its ranks โ€” its ears and eyes,
Who served and sweated on that Asian Hill,
They know how easily mere words can kill.

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

The Greatest Game

17 Thursday Dec 2020

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Humour, Sonnet

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

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

๐“๐ก๐ž ๐†๐ซ๐ž๐š๐ญ๐ž๐ฌ๐ญ ๐†๐š๐ฆ๐ž

The greatest game is darts โ€” and I must say,
Dart players are the fittest men of all โ€”
Just watch these perfect specimens at play!
No matter whether they are short or tall,
These mighty marksmen with their skills enthral.
Like little arrows shot from bended bows,
Their darts fly at the board upon the wall.
How do they execute such perfect throws?
The dart is held with flights close to the nose,
Then with a smooth movement of arm and wrist,
Toward the triple 20, off it goes,
And seldom is that tiny target missed.
So hail these sportsmen โ€” raise a mighty cheer
To champions of chips, meat pies, and beer.

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

Dominion Over All

24 Tuesday Nov 2020

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Satire, Sonnet

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Australian poet, Dominion voting machines, poem, poetry, sonnet

๐ƒ๐จ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐Ž๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ ๐€๐ฅ๐ฅ

It can flip any one to a zero,
Or a zero to one in a flash.
It can give a close win to your hero,
While the loser, his hopes it can dash.
A big lead? That is easy to slash!
We have code that can do that for you.
(Thatโ€™s provided you put up the cash)
And there wonโ€™t be a trace โ€” not a clue
Left behind โ€” itโ€™s so easy to do.
They may wonder โ€” they may scratch their heads.
They may call for an inquiry too.
But you may all sleep safe in your beds,
For the evidence will all be wiped.
The election of course will be swiped.

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

Hungary’s Right

22 Sunday Nov 2020

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Observation, Sonnet

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Australian poet, Hungarian ban on Islamic immigrants, Hungary, Hungary under Islam, Islamic infiltration, islamic Terrorism, Islamization, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

๐‡๐ฎ๐ง๐ ๐š๐ซ๐ฒโ€™๐ฌ ๐‘๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ

The scourge of Islam Hungary well knows;
So Allahโ€™s followers it will not take โ€”
That river of humanity that flows
Into the European poisoned lake.
The freedom of its citizens at stake,
It tells the Western fools to go to Hell.
That their veiled threats and posturing wonโ€™t shake
Hungarian resolve โ€” they know the smell
Of centralized control only too well.
Theyโ€™ve learned from history โ€” they know their past โ€”
The cruel oppression after Buda fell.
They gaze on Germany and France aghast.
Hungarians wonโ€™t sacrifice their pride;
For it too many patriots have died.

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

๐€ ๐‘๐ž๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ซ๐ž๐œ๐ญ๐ž๐ ๐€๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ง๐ข๐š๐งโ€™๐ฌ ๐Ž๐ฉ๐ข๐ง๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐Œ๐จ๐๐ž๐ซ๐ง ๐ƒ๐ž๐ฆ๐จ๐œ๐ซ๐š๐œ๐ฒ

12 Thursday Nov 2020

Posted by Dennis N. O'Brien in Observation, Sonnet

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Australian poet, poem, poetry, sonnet

๐€ ๐‘๐ž๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ซ๐ž๐œ๐ญ๐ž๐ ๐€๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ง๐ข๐š๐งโ€™๐ฌ ๐Ž๐ฉ๐ข๐ง๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐Œ๐จ๐๐ž๐ซ๐ง ๐ƒ๐ž๐ฆ๐จ๐œ๐ซ๐š๐œ๐ฒ

We ancient Greeks invented this? โ€” not so!โ€
The wise Athenian, he shakes his head:
โ€œIt seems your sense of the absurd has fled โ€”
This wasnโ€™t what we had so long ago!
Not even close! One draws a lengthy bow
To say that it resembles ours. Well-read
Free-thinking men cast votes โ€” we thus were led
By men of note. The lowest of the low
Your fake โ€œdemocracyโ€ brings to the fore.
You give the vote to all, then wonder why
Fools are elected and your freedoms die.
God help you when the stronger states wage war.
Two thousand years and more have now gone by โ€”
Some things donโ€™t change โ€” a lie is still a lie.โ€

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien

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