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

In the Army!

Tags

Australian poet, Formal poetry, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, poem, poetry

𝐈𝐧  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐲!

You know what I’ve been thinking?

That soldiers’ balls are shrinking.

For in the ranks

They’re firing blanks,

And at each other winking.

— 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

Fools Rush In

Tags

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

Fools Rush In

Into the void now left, (for God is dead),

Flow swiftly, weird beliefs and strange ideas.

To fill the vacuumed space within each head,

Advance the cults and creeds of crazy seers;

Of Eastern mystics, deviants, and queers.

The ancient faith is now consigned to trash,

As rise once more the superstitious fears.

Cathedrals and their icons burn to ash,

As statues of old heroes fall and smash.

But history will warn — so it’s wiped clean,

And those who’d dare remind us feel the lash.

The frightened masses fear to intervene,

As evil men are uplifted and praised,

And massive monuments to madness raised.

— D.N. O’Brien

Brothers in Arms

Tags

Australian poet, Brothers in arms, Formal poetry, poem, poetry

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬  𝐢𝐧  𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐬

Dark and grim, as winter’s chill

Creeps through the barracks, cold and still,

Where in a dreary dingy room

Four men are gathered in the gloom;

And three, they cast disdainful eyes

Upon the fourth, as he denies

What they see plainly as his guilt;

The evidence of blood he’s spilt —

The scarlet stains upon his clothes,

His swollen hands — his broken nose.

For they have seen each gouge and gash;

Beneath his bed, the stolen cash.

And each has known the man he killed.

And each has known the heart he stilled.

When there’s no question of a doubt,

Swift justice must be carried out.

If not, the killer may walk free;

But judge and jury are the three,

And all are young and wise and strong,

And not a chance their judgement wrong.

And so a gallows is contrived,

Where stands the fighter who’s survived.

His sunken eyes, devoid of hope,

Gaze upward at the hanging rope;

For well he knows, his end is sure —

Condemned by that unwritten law:

That soldiers, since the dawn of time,

Enforce for that unholy crime

Of fratricide by gun or knife —

The taking of a brother’s life.

So the condemned bows to his fate;

For but a second has to wait;

Then crashes on the floor a chair,

And there beneath his feet — but air.

— D.N. O’Brien

A Reasonable God

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Devils by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Formal poetry, Friedrich Nietzsche, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

A Reasonable God

“So soon belief will end and leave a void;

A godless empty place”, the thinker said.

“When all the faiths that filled it are destroyed,

And all that they stood for is cold and dead.”

And so the writer, with a sense of dread,

Foretold how men would kill their deities.

Would have no need of them — their daily bread

Would still be theirs; there’d be no need to please

Imagined gods; to fall down on their knees

And pray to empty space; was science’s turn

To rule the minds of men. The poles would freeze;

The tides would rise and fall, the sun would burn;

No gods or their fair angels would be missed.

The new God, Science, would rule with an iron fist.

— D.N. O’Brien