Dennis N. O'Brien
Dennis N. O'Brien is a formalist poet living in Queensland, Australia. more »
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Dennis N. O'Brien Poems
The Twelve Apostrophes
There once were twelve apostrophes Who'd served their English writers well, But soon despite concerted pleas, Their use had all but gone to hell.
To see the Earth from a distant Star Would give perspective to who we are: A speck of dust in a galaxy; A whirlpool set in an endless sea
The Jesus Bird
He profits from extended toes, As o'er the lily pads he goes. His call is just a quiet screech Although he's not inclined to preach.
Sunset In Winter
The amber glow as day begins to die Behind a darkened hill that lies to west, Where trees that silhouette against the sky March on like lines of soldiers on its crest.
Lies only stand if the good are weak For only the truth is strong. It's to feeble minds that the liars speak, Not to minds who know right from wrong.
Whether devout or green; Whether hooded or seen; Their intent is to gain All control from the sane.
The Dig Tree
How could this be, that after months of hell, Of blasting heat and sands of deserts crossed, That now but this blazed coolibah to tell The wretched men, for them all hope is lost.
Autumn In The South
In April when the first cool days Foretell of winter's coming frost, And waning sun's soft golden rays Shine weaker now that summer's lost.
Fame And Infamy
The famous are by all the people praised And monuments to their achievements raised, But should they fail the test, their statues fall; They really weren't so famous after all.
If the universe is of infinite size On just one planet would life arise? Or are there many where life can swarm, Advanced like us and of similar form?
Comments about Dennis N. O'Brien
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
The Twelve Apostrophes
There once were twelve apostrophes
Who'd served their English writers well,
But soon despite concerted pleas,
Their use had all but gone to hell.
The first to go was poor old you're,
Became just your, then out the door,
And closely followed by old it's,
Whose usefulness had had the fritz.
So it's was its, then we'd was wed,
And pretty soon poor that's was dead.
The next to go was faithful where's,
He's dead and buried - no one cares.
And number six was we're to were,
And that's to thats - another pair.
Then the apostrophe of who's, ...