𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐡𝐦𝐮𝐭

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

𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐡𝐦𝐮𝐭

Bakhmut is rubble — blasted streets

Like Stalingrad. Of all defeats

These two portray what comes of schemes

Of madmen — slaves to wicked dreams.

Bakhmut stumbles and then falls.

Dead bodies by the tumbled walls,

Their helmets wrapped in emerald bands,

Their rifles clutched in frozen hands.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐔𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬

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

𝐔𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬  𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬

Pariah of the past, but now transformed

Into the sweetest state that one could find.

The neo-Nazi nation is reformed,

Unrecognizable, one of a kind;

AZOV atrocities left far behind.

Yes it’s a miracle, this new Ukraine —

It’s now by those who loathed it wined and dined!

It is a mystery, one racks one’s brain

To come up with a theory to explain

How such a lump of shit became a jewel.

A noble Abel where was once a Cain!

What’s more, its leader who once played the fool,

The idiot, the joker, and the queer,

Is now the shining knight who knows no fear.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐀𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐔𝐤𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐫

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Australian poet, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Rishi Sunak, Russo / Ukraine war, Snow White, Zelensky

(𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐬  𝐚𝐧  𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞  𝐛𝐲  𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰  𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞)

One says: “I lead the state Ukraine.”

The other says: “My dwarfish brain,

It calculates twill not be long

Until you sing a different song,

Unless we British help you out

By giving you some tanks — your clout,

And by extrapolation height,

Will then increase — what ho! Snow White!”

(A girl has walked into the bar —

she’s six feet six and quite bizarre.)

She says: “What is your dwarfish plan?

You both together make one man,

Pathetic though he still would be:

Conjoined Zelensky and Rishi.”

Then said the much reduced in size

Unto the apparition wise:

“Our plan, while keeping our heads low,

Relates to making lots of dough!”

“I see,” said she, “Fools, don’t you know

I am the goddess of the snow?

The earth I soon will freeze with ice

And lock the land in winter’s vice.”

Snow White then turned upon her heel

And said: “A breeze you soon will feel —

An icy wind from out the East.

This blinding blizzard so released

Will hold each hour in freezing night,

As sure as my name is….. Snow White.

— D.N. O’Brien

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ‘𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲’

Tags

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

𝐓𝐡𝐞  𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦  ‘𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲’

All smashed upon the Baltic floor,

The remnants of an act of war.

Now take a moment to assess

The evidence — who made this mess?

Was not the Poles — no way they could,

And if they could, one doubts they would.

The Germans? They would be the last.

We’re running out of options fast.

The Russians blew their pipe apart?

Thus struck a blow at Russia’s heart?

Such logic would be badly flawed —

That Russia fell upon its sword.

So in the shadows one is left —

Was by its blow the pipe was cleft.

Who done it? That’s on many lips —

Who had upon that sea the ships?

Who thinks such acts are now the norm?

Who had the means, and too, the form?

Who now is led by the insane?

Who thought it had the most to gain?

It just requires a little thought

For doubt to be reduced to naught.

— D.N. O’Brien

Regime Change

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Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Putin, Russo / Ukraine war, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Ukraine, Vladimir Putin

𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐦𝐞  𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞

It’s out! The truth is spoken by the West:

It’s not about the people of Ukraine!

The leaders of ‘Utopia’ confessed

(Though anyone possessing half a brain,

Who has the sense to get out of the rain,

Knows they don’t care for Ukraine’s sovereign rights.)

It’s all about regime change, I’ll explain:

It’s Putin who is squarely in their sights. 

It is for this their foolish proxy fights.

Putin holds back the poisoned Western tide

That sweeps across the world — dimming the lights.

The West wishes to have a puppet guide

Great Holy Russia to the wrecking yards,

And Putin, Nemesis, holds all the cards.

— D.N. O’Brien

Soledar Dreaming

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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

Expired

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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