A town fit for a Queen

The jocund day stands tiptoed,

On the snowy mountain tops,

As the sun slowly rises,

Like the ticking of a clock.

Night is in retreat ,

With the dawning of the day,

As all throughout the town,

People come out to play.

With one thought, one aim,

They all set forth,

Thankful for the sunshine,

Ready to get their worth.

The mountains are our playground,

Our inspiration, our awe,

In one of the most beautiful towns ,

Which I ever saw.

I was inspired to write this poem after a snowboarding trip to Queenstown, New Zealand, one of the most beautiful towns I've seen.

Have you visited Queenstown? Do you have any comments or poetic replies? 

Support for the Occupy Movements!

Capitalist Economy

It’s a beast we call the economy,

To understand it you need a lobotomy,

Buy more than you need,

So that you can feed

The appetite of this monstrosity.

It’s a system (that) promotes envy and greed,

And is constantly looking to feed,

So we plunder the earth,

For all that it’s worth,

It’s a new understanding we need.

Intro 2

It’s a beast we call the economy,

To understand it you need a lobotomy,

Built on avarice and greed,

Which are deadly indeed,

It cares only for its own prosperity.

Intro 3

It’s a beast we call the economy,

To understand it you need a lobotomy,

For what is bad is good,

What we shouldn’t we should,

To stop others from getting on top-a-me.

After thinking about my views on capitalism, and now partially in support of the Occupy movements, I wrote these limericks. I chose the limerick style because it has a fun, witty, almost nonsense, air to it which is the opposite of the seriousness of the issues the poems deal with. I think this adds to their impact.


What are your views, what do you think of capitalism and the way the Occupy movements are challenging it?

Picture 

Creator: Art Hazelwood

Origin: California

Site: http://www.arthazelwood.com/

Time is out to get me!

Time is out to get me,

He hates my very face.

If he sees me running,

He runs the other way.

I might miss my train or plane,

Or earn myself a slap.

But this does naught, but add to his glee.

Time, why do you torment me?

NB: this was one of my earliest poems and is still one of my favourites. It deals with my time management and lateness problem ;-).

The picture is of one of Salvador Dali's most famous works 'The Persistence of Memory'. I love his surrealist style.

Famous qoute:
"I wasted time, and now doth time waste me,"  William Shakespeare 

Of what to write?

"Words are broader than the ocean itself”  Bonginkosi Mnisi

Of what to write? Of life, love and liberty?

Or of war, pain and the suffering of physical existence?

This choice is by far the most important,

For words are precious and must be chosen with care,

Is the aim to inform, enlighten or entertain?

For every following reader will be taken there.

But words are more than simply a means to an end,

They are an outlet for frustration and pain.

A mouthpiece for hope and joy, or a call to action,

Perhaps an encouragement to hope when it seems in vain.

The poet wields influence in his finger tips,

And this influence must never be abused.

Rather, this influence needs be understood,

Or an opportunity can be missed, or misused.

(I decided to re-post this poem for the dVersePoets 'Poems about Poetry' prompt, some have seen it before but it fit so well with the prompt I decided to be a bit cheeky and add it in as a second on this week, sorry!)



NB: not my first poem, and not one of the better ones either. And yet, it still seems a good place to start this project.


And a little extra...

A poem is a valuable thing,
Made all of wealthy words.
And they must be chosen with care,
For then the right message is heard.

Reflections

This blog is the home of Dylan Quinnell Poetry (@DQPoetry).

It nearly bore the same name but was instead born Reflections after something of an epiphany: the realisation that every poem is a Reflection.

Poems are in essence Reflections of life in all its fullness: reflections of the evolution of love and possibly it’s violent or withering end, reflections of the purity of strong emotions or the simplicity of a moment, reflections of beauty and of pain, reflections of the world as it is or as it should be.

But it is deeper than this.

Like any physical Reflection, a poem can at times be immediately seen for what it is, a poor attempt at capturing reality; while at others it can be seem more real than life itself. Like any Reflection, though, a poem can be disturbed by something as small as a pebble thrown into the calm pond.

These poems then are at their most basic, my reflections of life and my experiences.

I write poems to be read; and I want to share my Reflections with you, in the hope that you will share your Reflections with me and together we can grow and enjoy la vita bella, the beautiful life.