𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Triolet

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

My neighbour has just bought a machine gun.

He says he’s only bought it for defence.

He digging in — it’s looking like Verdun.

My neighbour has just bought a machine gun.

He’s buying ammunition by the ton.

Hostilities may very soon commence.

My neighbour has just bought a machine gun.

He says he’s only bought it for defence.

— D.N. O’Brien

Soledar Dreaming

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Russo / Ukraine war, Soledar, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Ukraine war

The town of salt, the fortress, is no more.

The Wagnerites have brought it to the ground.

The tipping point of this most bloody war

Is reached, as to the west the big guns pound

Retreating beaten men, not homeward bound,

But to a new graveyard, there to expire

And go to pieces, never to be found

Amongst the rotting fragments in the mire.

In Kyiv the thespian, unrivalled liar,

This hero of a West that’s lost its way,

Tastes of the meat he draws forth from the fire,

And in his thoughtlessness is heard to say:

 “I do believe it needs a little salt.”

The sleeping soldier wakens with a jolt.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐀 𝐄𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, poem, poetry

𝐀 𝐄𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

The Russians supply us with great gobs of gas,

But we’ll tell the Ivans: “Stick it up your ass!”

We’ve got solar panels and wind-power too.

We’ll have electricity up the kazoo!

The Russians will starve and the ruble will tank.

(We’ve got our American allies to thank!)

Damn! Here comes the winter — it’s getting quite cold.

(The Chinese and Russians are buying up gold)

Our windmills aren’t turning, and grey is the sky!

The lights are not working and no one knows why.

The Russians are flogging their gas to the East.

The ruble by huge leaps and bounds has increased.

The temperature now drops to minus degrees.

If it gets much lower than we will all freeze,

But not so the Russians, they’re happy and warm.

I look out the window — we’re in for a storm,

A snow-storm that is, well I’m hungry and tired,

The sanctions, I’m starting to think, have backfired.

— D.N. O’Brien

Expired

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Russo / Ukraine war

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝  

Find  weapons we can send to poor Ukraine!

But nothing new, for that would be insane.

Just stuff that is beyond its use by date.

Let’s face it — it will soon be in a state

Of disorder — complete disintegration.

One shell and it will be a conflagration;

A sacrifice to our war of attrition;

A target for damned Russian ammunition.

Oh yes we all agree it’s a sad story,

But we must clear out all stale inventory.

And when the last old piece of junk is gone

We’ll order lots of stuff from Raytheon.

— D.N. O’Brien

It’s God’s Truth

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Western Decline

𝗜𝘁’𝘀  𝗚𝗼𝗱’𝘀  𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗵

I went unto the playing fields to check upon our youth.

I went and saw the conquered and I uttered quietly: “Struth!”

I searched in vain for brave young men; I searched but few could see.

I watched the heroes of each sport go down upon one knee.

I listened to the commentariat, their words so barmy.

I came back home and wrote this down: “We couldn’t raise an army”.

— D.N. O’Brien

Cold War

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Russo ? Ukraine War, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

The colours, yellow, blue, and white, and red,

Adorn the bodies lying in the snow.

The living, coloured so, pass by the dead

As onwards to uncertain fate they go.

The naked frosted trees, row after row,

Give little shelter as the last leaves fall.

The bitter cold it bites as chill winds blow.

A coat of ice clings to each shattered wall.

While into frozen rubble cold men crawl,

High in the safety of the sombre clouds  

Watch soulless robots, and the shots they call,

And blackness blows and cloaks white winter shrouds.

Comes night, when cold into each bone it seeps.

The soldier says once more his prayers, and sleeps.

— D.N. O’Brien

World War Zero

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Crimean War, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Triolet, World War Zero

(“The Crimean War is one of the bad jokes of history.” – Philip Guedalla)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝  𝐖𝐚𝐫  𝐙𝐞𝐫𝐨

The Ottoman Empire is in decline —

Six hundred thousand men prepare to die.

In Europe noble relatives sip wine —

The Ottoman Empire is in decline.

The nobles fear the Russians wish to dine

On Turkey — they’ll wage war on Nicolai.

The Ottoman Empire is in decline —

Six hundred thousand men prepare to die.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Civil War, Disunity, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝

It’s obvious; the split is now too wide.

There is no chance such gaping wounds can heal.

There is no common ground — a stark divide;

No compromise; no way to cut a deal.

But stay united for the common weal?

Forget it — that would surely end in woe.

A separation will a truth reveal —

That old one — all will reap but what they sow.

For one’s intent is high, the other’s low;

And nature’s laws suggest the first will win.

It’s time to end this endless to and fro;

The union must now take it on the chin.

The best outcome would be a swift divorce;

A civil war’s unthinkable of course.

— D.N. O’Brien

49 BC

Tags

Ancient Rome, Brundisinium, Corfinium, Domitious, I'm a good ole rebel, Julius Caesar, poem, poetry, Pompey the Great, Rebellion, Rebels, Rubicon River, Song lyrics

(To the tune of “I’m a Good Ole Rebel”)

𝟒𝟗 𝐁𝐂

Was in the year of 49, on the eleventh day,

Caesar crossed the Rubicon to make the Senate pay.

Mounted on his charger, mounted proud and tall,

Came to the peninsular the conqueror of Gaul.

Leading but one legion, but soon so many more,

Caesar reached Corfinium to open up the war.

Unsheathed was every gladius, the javelins were loosed;

The army of Domitious by Caesar’s was reduced.

Came the victor Caesar, came the victor home.

Pompey and the senators all scurried south from Rome.

Caesar followed in pursuit, but in the end he failed,

For reaching Brundisinium he learned that they had sailed.

Off to Greece they headed, to fight another day.

Caesar headed westward and invested old Marseilles.

With ten loyal legions at his side, about to rule the seas —

Great Pompey would Julius soon bring unto his knees.

Caesar crossed the Rubicon way back in 49.

Caesar was a rebel, and the rebel crossed the line.

And Caesar was the victor for he waged war to the knife,

And Rome would he the rebel rule — til rebels took his life.

— D.N. O’Brien

After reading:

https://flammeusgladius.wordpress.com/2021/06/09/concise-guide-to-the-new-symbolism-of-the-damn-yankee-flag/

Iron Dome

Tags

Iron Dome, Israel, poem, poetry

𝗜𝗿𝗼𝗻  𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗲

The tiny state shows you the way,

Yet you unroll your mats and pray,

For holy men you must obey,

And fire your missiles every day.

Your holy men say they are wise —

These bolts will spell the state’s demise,

Yet to the heavens cast your eyes,

As rockets shatter in the skies.

— D.N. O’Brien