A Real Plague

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Australian poet, Grim reaper, Plague, plague doctors, poem, poetry, scythe, Triolet, WuFlu crisis

𝕬 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖑 𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖚𝖊

The plague has passed; the reaper’s scythe is sheathed!
Though half the people lie beneath the loam.
If doctors of the plague can be believed,
The plague has passed; the reaper’s scythe is sheathed.
Go to each house and tell the poor bereaved:
(That’s if there is a living soul at home)
The plague has passed; the reaper’s scythe is sheathed!
Though half the people lie beneath the loam.

— D.N. O’Brien

A Hypothetical Spartan WuFlu Response

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Australian poet, Helot, Laconia, Plague, poem, poetry, sonnet, Sparta, Spartan, Spenserian sonnet

𝐀 𝐇𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐮𝐅𝐥𝐮 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞

Two kings of Sparta must deliberate.
For o’er Laconia a plague has spread.
The Helots cry: “Act now, or it’s too late!
Before the kingdom’s littered with our dead!”
Now Sparta by its kings is wisely led —
They know the present danger, it is clear;
But how to act? What message must be spread?
Their kings the Spartans worship and revere;
So which course must the kings of Sparta steer?
The Spartans, till their last breath they will fight,
And for the fallen never shed a tear.
What can be said to those who know not fright?

Upon a proclamation they agree:
“Good luck.” the kings declare — laconically.

— D.N. O’Brien