Tags
Australian convicts, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Bush Poetry, Cat of nine tails, Formal poetry, Incorrigible convicts, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Van Diemen's Land
๐๐ง๐๐จ๐ซ๐ซ๐ข๐ ๐ข๐๐ฅ๐
He heads for hell beneath the surging sails;
One soul of tens of thousands bound in ships
East-driven by the roaring forties gales.
His gruel consumed, a brackish brew he sips โ
Stares at the deck, and licks his leathered lips.
Sad hopeless thoughts beat in his beaten brain,
As with cold calloused hands his head he grips.
Perhaps he stole a pound of precious grain,
A handkerchief, a coin, a rich manโs cane.
Perhaps he is a villain through and through,
And so deserves this cruel unnatural pain,
Or maybe he is not โ whicheverโs true,
Heโs landed on the wrong side of the law.
Heโs branded by the cat for evermore.
โ D.N. OโBrien