Origins of Christmas

Jesus was born,

Around this day long ago.

The world's first MC,

Man he could flow.

Spreading his message of love,

With a smile,

People came to hear him,

from mile after mile.

But, he made enemies,

With his free thinking ways,

Challenging the Empire,

Really never pays.

So he was hung on the cross,

A Roman rebels reward,

But his message of love,

Lives on this day forward.

Merry Christmas! This is partially my take on the origins of the season, man or God I respect the views attributed to Jesus and what he stood for.

I'll probably take a bit of a break over Christmas but will be right back into the poetry in 2012. See you then! 

Photo 'Love Beach Sunset' by: danicafaye 

There’s no Christmas on Xmas Island (Welcome to Aus)

If your land was shattered by famine or war,

You’d grab your family and head for the door.

You'd have to travel through places no better than home,

Over the whole world be willin to roam.

Drinking only hope and eating your dreams,

You’d do anything with peace as your theme.

With no other options for life as you please,

You’d pay a captain and take to high seas,

Headed for a real Shangri-La, a land free and fair,

Through dangers untold, you’d swallow your fear.

You see, many have done this, they’re the real deal,

Now you know all this, so how do you feel?

Cause they came all this way only to find,

There’s no Christmas on Christmas Island,

And  these kind foreigners are not all so kind,

This isn’t the paradise they were hoping to find.

Seen as the same, they’re hated and despised.

We spit out there name before they’ve even arrived.

Most boat people are legit, but not in our eyes,

Yet no-one’s talking of the hordes from the skies.

We discuss ways to deal with the curse’d boat people,

While shouting messages of love come from every church steeple.

What ever happened to “do unto others”,

Seems our ex-PM’s love only stretched to mothers.

Take a long hard stare in your looking glass,

Cause from where I sit this ain’t the green grass.

I wrote this poem while studying in Australia. I was appalled to hear about refugees being held on Christmas Island (a tiny island in the middle of the ocean between Australia and Indonesia), sometimes for years, while their applications were processed. Many of these refugees were the hated boat-people, who at the time were fleeing from the conflict in Sri Lanka or Afghanistan on rickity boats. 

It seems an apt time to publish the poem coming up to yet another Christmas where there will be no Christmas on Christmas Island for the refugees held there.

Yes it is a big problem but they can at least be treated like people who have already suffered enough.

What do you think about this case, or they way refugees are treated?

Photo of detention centre from safecom.org.au

Photo of burnt out buildings from The Australian 

Micro Poem:
Christmas comes with clanging bells/ calling in the night// but Christmas cheer not all can claim/ with calamity clinging on their characters

Help me to heal a girl’s broken heart

Lord, help me to heal a girls broken heart,

To know what to say would be a start.

To right the wrongs done by men,

And urge her to trust again.

For love awaits us all,

In this harsh world.

I wrote this poem in 2005 after a friend had been cheated on and I was trying to work out how to help her. I ended up faxing (the height of technology!) it to her and still don't know how she took it.

Any comments? Have you or a friend been cheated on? How did you feel? 

Image by heart broken pictures

A Micro Poem:
I see the sea/ That last I saw/ One summery day in/ September//
That sea I saw/ That summery day/Now says to me/ Surrender// 

Spring has sprung

Spring has sprung,

Let it bring what it may,

For it’s done its job,

Banishing the harsh winter away.

The trees are a’flower,

And there’s love in the air,

As people get out,

And children play everywhere.

We wouldn’t appreciate,

A rose without thorns,

And the same is true,

As the new spring is born.

Image: A beautiful photo of New Zealand's Mt Cook, the country's highest mountain, in the spring. Photo from www.hiren.info

I wrote this poem after enjoying the 2011 European spring bursting into life after a cold German winter; and thought I would post it as here in New Zealand we get into our spring. Really experiencing the four seasons is one of my favourite things about life in Europe, since in both South Africa and New Zealand where I have lived for long periods you don't really notice the change; although this photo shows one place where you really do see it!

Love can move a man to madness

 

Image by: GypsyH

 What is this love which can move a man to madness?

That can push a logical, controlled soul to embrace emotion and hopefulness.

Not to choose the easy path, but instead the voyage unknown,

The one thing this all does show is just how much I’ve grown.

I’ve given up what seemed most sure, for that which seems the least.

But sacrifice in love is oft required so now my fear has ceased.

I have a dream, a great man once said, and he meant it with his heart,

I have a dream of a life of love and happiness, and this is just the start.

My first foray into 'love' poetry on this blog, I can't remember the moment of love-struck madness that inspired this poem but the feeling is still there.

Do you have any similar experiences or comments to relate? 

The stars

Though life at times may be inky black,

A burden on our spirit.

Always the stars will lead us back,

And help us truly live it.

Oh sons of heaven so bright you shine,

In that inky robe.

Help me make sure I treasure mine,

Down on this earthly globe.

I've always loved and been fascinated by the stars, this poem was written a number of years ago after a nights star gazing.

Have you ever been inspired by the stars into poetry or photography? 

Dolphins

Dolphins dart daringly beneath the deck, dancing in the daylight.

Sleek, shining, silver bodies shooting through the surface of the sea.

Frivolously flying through the air, faster and faster; fittingly frolicsome.

Concluding, they casually cruise the calm, clear sea; completely carefree.

Majestic and mighty, mesmerizing, and most of all memorable for me.

I absolutely love seeing dolphins, their carefree nature and the fact that I always enjoy being in the ocean anyway means that I can remember all the times I have seen them while surfing, diving or sailing. 

I wrote this poem in the form of alliterations after seeing a pod of dolphins surround our boat during a diving trip in Papua New Guinea in 2010. The diving was some of the best I have seen in the world and the dolphins were the cream on the cake; especially when they lowered nets over the side of the boat and dragged us along in the water with them!

Have you got any alliteration replies?

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.