𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

Tags

Ancient Rome, Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Triolet

𝐀𝐧  𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥  𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

Times are much like the dying days of Rome.

The parallels are too clear to ignore.

To roost, the chickens are returning home —

Times are much like the dying days of Rome.

That history recorded in the tome,

Of plague, decay, decline, and civil war.

Times are much like the dying days of Rome.

The parallels are too clear to ignore.

— 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/

Clemens the Impostor

Tags

Agrippa Postumus, Ancient Rome, Australian poet, caesar, Clemens, Clemens the impostor, poem, poetry, Tiberius

𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭o𝐫

“How did you come to be Agrippa, slave?”
“As you came to be Caesar”, Clemens said.
A knave can recognize another knave.
Tiberius: “I want this fellow dead.”

— 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

Divided

Tags

Ancient Roman law, Ancient Rome, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Republican Rome, The Twelve Tables

That rascal Titus now has paid.
(As time and Titus have expired.)
Divided neatly with a blade –
Distributed – the flesh required.

The law dictated our decision;
It is writ that rogues must pay.
Proportional precise division
Of remains – the fairest way.

Those owed debts of substantial size
Got choicest portions – legs, arms, heart.
My share? But two bits I would prize,
Contained within one wrinkled part.

The parcel came by slave this morning;
Neither severed head nor guts,
For I had given him fair warning:
Titus knew I’d have his nuts.

Vercingetorix

Tags

Ancient Rome, australia traditional poetry, australian formal poetry, Battle of Alesia, Battle of Gergovia, Formal poetry, Gallic Tribes, Gaul, Julius Caesar, Roman Triumph, Vercingetorix

Armed with spear and bow and sword,
So advanced the Gallic horde.
At Gergovia struck a blow;
Laid the Roman legions low.
At Alesia – fortified,
There the legions, they defied;
But besieged by Roman might,
Weakened, they gave up the fight.
Vercingetorix the bold,
On his horse adorned with gold,
Swiftly then to Caesar went;
Rode a circle round his tent,
Then dismounted at his feet,
Flung his armour, took his seat
On now uncontested ground;
Looked to Caesar, made no sound.
So to Rome he was conveyed;
In captivity he stayed.
Soon, said Caesar: “While he lives,
To the tribes, false hope he gives.
He, to Rome, no loyalty feigns,
At my Triumph, bound in chains,
Let this King, to all the Gauls,
Show how low their saviour falls;
Then to foil his Gallic tricks,
Strangle, Vercingetorix.

Piso and Plancina

Tags

Agrippina, Ancient Rome, Emperor Tiberius, Germanicus, Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso, Martina, Munatia Plancina, poem, poetry, Syria, Tiberius

Germanicus, pride of the Roman Empire,
Was brought down by Piso, a treacherous liar,
Who schemed with his missus, Munatia Plancina,
To kill him with poison. Accomplice Martina,
The poisoner, slyly she used belladonna.
Germanicus, very soon, he was a goner.
(Martina would later be found stiff and cold,
For she knew too much and so wouldn’t grow old)
In Syria, (that’s where the crime was committed)
Germanicus had against Piso been pitted,
And Piso, egged on by the evil Plancina,
Who hated Germanicus and Agrippina
His wife, knew Germanicus just had to go,
And so was the great Roman General laid low.
With unseemly haste there were huge celebrations
As Piso, Plancina, their friends and relations,
They sacrificed, partied, sent thanks to the gods.
(They really were quite reprehensible sods)
Tiberius, Piso considered inferior
To his noble family, and also that Syria
Was his now to govern, (he had been in charge there)
So sought to invade it, his power to enlarge there.
Tiberius, (some say he had been conspiring
With Piso) in Rome, now of Piso was tiring,
For though overjoyed, (with Germanicus dead)
He heard the crowd calling: “Give us Piso’s head!”
And so came to Piso a message from home:
“Piso and Plancina – you’re wanted in Rome.”
And there, by The Senate, Piso and Plancina
Were tried. Soon on suicide Piso grew keener
For he knew Tiberius wanted him dead;
A sword sliced his throat, and to death, Piso bled.
His wife was acquitted. (Said Livia: “Save her!”)
Tiberius Caesar, he never forgave her –
When Livia died, had Plancina retried.
She opened her veins – thus the last killer died.
Or was there another? A tale most mysterious
Of Piso, Plancina, Martina…… Tiberius?

Messalina

Tags

Ancient Rome, Australian traditional poetry, Claudius, Formal poetry, Gaius Silius, Mnester, Ostia, poem, poetry, Roman Empire

I

Claudius, the Roman Caesar,
Emperor and daft old geezer,
Lived in his palatial villa.
(Not far from the harlot Scylla)
Messalina was his missus,
His best buddy – young Narcissus.
Messalina, she was smokin’,
Claudius was past all pokin’.
Claudius – went off to Britain.
Messalina thought it fittin’
That she challenge the whore Scylla:
Just how many men would fill her
Day? “Ah….ten”, Scylla responded.
Messalina quietly pondered,
Then in triumph loudly shouted:
“I’d take fifty!” – Scylla pouted.
So the thespian Mnester,
Messalina tasked to test her.
Thus did Messalina’s lover
Seek one hundred men to cover
Messalina and her rival
And the battle for survival
Started – to each as she lay there,
Came the studs to play then pay there.
Scylla quit at five and twenty,
Messalina, needing plenty,
Watched as Scylla, rent and ragged,
Took her pay and homeward staggered.
Messalina – over-sexed hun,
Shouted to the rafters: “Next one!”

II

Messalina’s life continued
And her lovers, muscled, sinewed,
She invited there to bed her,
But the Caesar who had wed her,
Busy with his wars and battles,
Paid no heed to tittle-tattles.
Meanwhile Messalina plotted,
Used the powerful, besotted
By her beauty to advance her
Interests – and to romance her,
And these same men, she employed them:
Find her rivals and destroy them.
Friends of Caesar saw the dangers;
To sedition none were strangers,
So they whispered words to warn him
That the people soon would scorn him
Lest he punish this fair beauty;
Sure, she was a winsome cutie
And he loved his Messalina,
But her antics were obscene, her
Body she now prostituted;
More to brothels she was suited.
She was just a common harlot
Used by every cur and varlet.
Now he knew he was cuckolded
Claudius relented, folded.
Finally the truth they’d sold him
And he listened while they told him
Of his wife so young and pretty
Flirting with the handsome, witty,
Gaius Silius the dashing
Consul. (Some had seen them pashing)
So old Claudius directed
Narcissus – if he detected
Treason such as he was fearing,
Bring it to the Emperor’s hearing.

III

To his lord, Narsissus hurried.
Said to Caesar he was worried
That his darling Messalina
On a rival was much keener,
And this Gaius she would marry –
Best in Ostia not tarry.
Back in Rome the wedding party –
Actors, poets, arty farty
Friends, all gathered for the wedding.
(To the gallows most were heading)
In the gardens gay and merry
Gaius and his bride unwary
Gleefully danced round embracing.
(Caesar’s horses fast were pacing)
While the guests all drank and chatted,
Laughed and joked like nothing mattered,
Suddenly the sound of sandals,
Hob-nailed, marching, and the vandals
At the party panicked, scattered;
One of them had clearly ratted.
(That Narcissus, good at lying,
And a dab hand too at spying)
Claudius and co. came flying;
Men were screaming, women crying.
The debauched and his beloved;
Oh the filth he had discovered!
He had seen all that he needed.
His commands his soldiers heeded:
“Let the whore take her own life now.
She no longer is my wife now!”
Then her mother sought to calm her
Lest the soldiers moved to harm her.
Said her mother: “End your pain dear,
With this blade open a vein dear.”
With the knife she scratched her white throat
Till a guard with all his might smote
Her slim neck and so beheaded
Messalina. (often bedded)
Lovers and her newly married
Gaius, to the block were carried.
Claudius by now was dining;
He exclaimed: “Continue wining!”