Ode to the Sea

Your blue waves welcome me,
that caress wet sands of white and gold
a touch of rain and seawater.
Grey clouds pass
your sea foams incessant
a slow march enveloping
the lover waiting in the rain.
Let the wind carry your voice
pass the coloured flags
over colored walls now white again
and whisper of the past.
your waves are now a roar
of voices distant and faint
and lonely as the moon.
yet the voices do not reach me
it comes only as a whisper, faint and dying
and the walls drift farther away;
and visions fade.
Please let them flow again,
those incessant foams: white against setting sun;
that I can rise again with each morning
always distant, but always there.

Copyright ©2016 Rizal Repin

Haiku

too sleepy today
and the dreaming fool is me
holding my nightmare

* * *

hearts will break quickly
if fragile and they are dropped
sweep it away now

* * *

broken glass i see
footprints blood soaked lead me here
to find butterflies

Going to bed early

I went to bed early to listen to my heart break
because it was already brittle and cracked.
It happens really really slowly
grinding to pieces like an iceberg,
it clicks and pops,
keeping me awake a long time.

It used to whisper to me at night,
stories of love and dreams, now become noise.
Louder when I close my eyes,
silencing only after it breaks
drifting stoically farther away,
its secrets meant for distant shores.

If your heart is burdened by

If your heart is burdened by,
The troubles of the world then I;
Will carry them in my arms away,
So you will never face dismay.
For sorrow never has blessings brought,
And sadness never meant for naught;
Like darkness it will blind your way,
Then further lead your heart astray.
No burden should your soul to bear,
In silence nor solitary air;
No trouble should you keep alone,
No worry should you keep your own.
But together we may set it free,
The weight that sets on you and me.
We'll set it on the winds that blows,
That faith and hope may now regrow.
No burden so heavy,
That two can't carry.
For me or you I can't deny,
All that your heart is burdened by.

Last night I dreamt of you again

Last night I dreamt of you again
In the dawn of night's sweet refrain
Among flowers and fields of grass
Where lonely hearts had often pass
Soft breezes blowing
The lonely stream flowing
Where the green envies nature's touch
In a place of peace and as such
The sun's great shine can never fade
And the snow and rain are never made
In a world of green and reddish blooms
And coy pink buds and orange plumes
May all the clouds lay down their showers
Or dark hearts come to pluck the flowers
You weaved the failing nature's loom
And drive away the coming gloom
Though my heart had died
And at times my heart had cried
I feel relinquished from the pain
Last night I dreamt of you again.

Copyright ©2007 Rizal Repin

Mehendi

She left without warning,
and returned with mehendi-coloured hands,
ring-bound to a man from foreign lands,
eyes glistened with tears of happiness and confusion.
I've warned of love and loss,
yet still failed to see--blind.
Now as we danced to the rhythm of the Banghra,
a haunting yet joyful theme of happiness and regret,
though we praise and cheer,
the celebrations raze huddled spirits
that know and worry that our gifts are forgotten.
Like the mehendi we decorate the skin of Indian daughters,
a binding, artful chain that marks remembrance and promise,
until we are washed by water and time,
like we were meant to.

Copyright ©2007 Rizal Repin
Silver Prize Winner 2006
International Library of Poetry

The Dancer

The dancer tells her story
and rhythm becomes the words
movement and melody are her arms
and feet moving an invisible quickness
eyes expressive show a longing
marked of eye shadow
her lips curve into that smile
a half moon that beckons hearts to stop
and wonder-is she speaking to me?
there is rhythm in her walk
a gracelike that swan in flight
landing in the lakes, breaking
that perfect mirror
that reflect the perfect sky
her movement echoed by the chorus
that rippled through air like water
bursting again with energy
powerful and resolute
yet laced with deepening shadow
the dancer tells her story
rhythm becomes her soul and music
a canvas of paints we see
and only that from afar.

Copyright ©2007 Rizal Repin

Arriving at my New Island Home

Arriving at my new island home
I feel guiltily unexcited
Fitting that I should arrive at the harbour
Where fortunes have been made
Jewels and gems that I neither need nor want.
Then too quickly lost in all that is modern, efficient
But cold.
The drizzle follows me where I go,
As if rainclouds come from my arms
And my body - like the sky
White alabaster and grey dirty marble.
This is not my home.
But the strange humming of the driver
oddly calming
Like the lyrical singing of the Quran reader
Calling out sweetly and full of longing.

Coffeeshop

the white rocking horse greets
remnants of happier times
coffee mixed with tea
a bun of coconut jam and butter
crispy warm
inviting dark and light
sweet like a gentle gesture
of hands on hands
aching sweet
not what I'm used to. Aching.
sixty years on the walls
reminders that things change
but we remain old inside
an old haunt
a place for lovers
family
and friends

Copyright ©2007 Rizal Repin

Ode To A Muffin

I have no idea what possessed me to write this...

Ode to a Muffin

I can't finish my muffin,
Oh what am I to do?
My stomach seems fully sated,
My mouth wish not to chew.

But oh wonderful muffin,
So rich with wild blueberries.
You seem so delicious now,
Truly the food of faeries.

There's only a small morsel,
left upon the cup.
Why, oh why please tell me,
Why can't I gobble you straight up?

You sit there and tease me,
And laugh as I choke my throat.
Oh muffin of wild blueberries,
Shall I stock you in my coat?

So then I can eat you later,
When my mouth feels like a bite,
But oh delicious muffin,
you're far too small and light.

Oh fair delicious muffin,
No more than a little lump,
My questions are without answers,
So have fun in the dumps.

Copyright ©2007 Rizal Repin

Always

Would you believe me, if I said,
That I would never go?
Could you drink of my ageless love,
When the cups does overflow?

I shall always remember,
The memories I shared with you,
Forever etched in this longing heart,
Even should time split us two.

When you walk away my dear,
Please look a glance behind,
I shall be as shadows near,
My touch you'll always find.

I am still here for you,
Please believe this begging soul,
Life is worth for just one kiss,
From you my love of old.

Sunrise

Dawn lights the rocky seas,
as the weathered rocks are shown,
she shines upon the rocks and trees,
that lay hinged before the blown.

She strokes the gentle ocean tides,
as the soft green waves unfold,
and caressed the hills and countrysides,
that lay cuddled in the kindly cold.

She danced upon the quavering reeds,
as they shelter from the morning hue,
she kissed the green of a newformed seed,
that lay thirsted for the falling dew.

She hugged, with warmth, the newborn doe;
as it shivers in her blinding light,
she shines upon the dew that glows,
like a jewel on a darkest night.

Dawn lights the endless lands,
that dwell by the unknown,
she clings to day with her ending sands,
as she hinges before the blown.

A Leaf Upon the Winds

I am like a falling leaf, fallen from a branch up high;
Blown away so quietly, by a wind from the eastern sky.
You are like the eastern wind, coming from lands afar;
To bring the promise of eternity, to heal an aching scar.

I am like the falling leaf, blown waysides and beyond;
And I drift on your eastern breeze, so galeful yet forlorn?
You are like the eastern wind, blowing such sweet romance:
"Will you seek with me a deep true love, perhaps another chance?"

"I go where you go my love, my soul shall be forsake;
But I am but a wayward leaf, no passage do I take."
Then you like the eastern wind, blowing this soft caress;
You lift me far and lift me high but I'll fall down nontheless.

I am the falling leaf, dancing in your warm, sweet breeze;
But your winds will take you far away, each moment we must seize.
Then I the wayward leaf, will come gently onto the earth;
Your eastern gale has come and gone, my destiny you can't reverse.

Poem Day

Poetry

The words I write have come to be,
known to all as poetry;
from my heart has come of late,
the songs of love and songs of fate.

From my heart has come of late,
beneath the shell of my own faith,
came the rhymes of stories true,
and of all the things I've yet to do.

Came the rhymes of stories true,
and my hand, it slowly drew,
the rhymes of various symetry,
blind to eyes, but the heart can see.

The rhymes of various symetry,
this thing I write called poetry,
when mind's astray and thoughts had faltered,
the words I write shall never falter.

When mind's astray and thoughts had faltered,
and new blood's kin has come and withered;
I know my words will be at free,
alive forever and always be.

I know my words will be at free,
the rhymes I wrote called poetry,
with God may all you live to see,
my life and love in poetry.

Copyright ©2007 Rizal Repin

Sigh..

Unfinished

true love -
like touching clouds
of heaven,
and the tingling calm of
delicious silky laughter.

desire -
like the anxious hope
of patience,
and eyes long awake with
long forbidden hunger.

Copyright ©2006 Rizal Repin

Poem Day

The Manic Mistletoe

A manic Mistletoe came to me,
on a snowy December morn.
She said "Kiss me! Kiss me!"
"Before this special day is gone."
"What special day?", I asked
"What auspicious day is this?"
"A season of good greetings?"
"On a quiet day of bliss?"

The before I could continue,
she kisses my face with glee,
a sloppy, sloshy, smoochness
that drips down to my knees!
"Eeew! Gross!", I say
"What a disgusting, sickly smooch,"
"Don't do that again Mistletoe,"
"I'd much rather kiss a pooch!"

"Hee hee!" said the Mistletoe,
"Hee tee-hee, tee-hee"
"Smooching wet lovely kisses,"
"Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!"
The manic fairy flips a wing,
and flew up high away,
then dives down in spiral lights,
so beautiful if I may say.

"Wait little Mistletoe," say I
"Don't go away just yet,"
"Are you real? Are you true?"
"Are you some sick man's little pet?"
"Kiss-kiss! Me-me!"
She wants to smooch again!
Horrors and No! Thought I,
No more saliva stains!

The manic Mistletoe came up close,
her mouth drips with spit.
If you've met with fairies,
You'll know this disgusting bit!
My mind begins to reel,
I have to think quick,
The phonebook! Get the phonebook!
Oh God, this is sick!

She puckers up her lips,
and closes her eyes shut,
I tremble at the thought of it,
the slimy little slut!
I waited till she's really close,
and the air stank with drool,
then slammed the phonebook shut,
and squashed the goddamned little fool!

Copyright ©2006 Rizal Repin

Poem day

eyes closed

eyes closed
the obliging censure
sight thickens, soulless to words.
hearts beat
hands tremble into the fire
burning blood, a soulful brew
lips moved
kissed censured glistened eyes
like nectar, sweet sorcerous wine
eyes closed
the obliging censure
fuels old but simple thoughts:
- eyes closed,
to me?

Copyright ©2006 Rizal Repin

Farewell these lands and northern sky

Farewell these lands and northern sky,
and soft green grass that I once lie-
to cold sharp winds and the icy curse,
farewell to sounds of joyful mirth.
For here awhile my heart did run,
beneath the moon, beneath the sun.
Away from guards, on my own path
to form the shadows that I now cast.

Farewell these eyes of angel's light,
that kept me warm on lonely nights,
which time and time had put a smile
even it was for just a while.
For time had gifted me with friends,
whose gentle ways are heaven sent-
unknown to many about the Earth,
like the warming heat of a lighted hearth.

Rizal Repin
Copyright ©2006 Rizal Repin

New Poem

I like this poem..

In My Mind, You Loved Me

I've written letters in my mind
and mailed them all to you,
as I scribbled with feverish fingers
onto cheap store purchased stationery
spritzed with expensive perfume
I never dared to wear.

In my mind,
you would have responded
with soft words made of feathers
and with the words, 'I love you,'
expressed by x's and o's.

In my mind,
you would have spilled
your undying love to me,
with words Shakespeare would have written,
had he risen from the grave.

In my mind,
we would have sewn
our lips together with
metal-woven yarn,
and you wouldn't have seen
me as transparent--
and felt me like the wind.

-- Nicole Daily ( in respect of original author)

Back again

This has got to be the most under utilised blog in the world. What to do? If I had a freaking internet connection at home it may be different. Let's get started today with this recent poem.. 

Untitled - 30/9/05

Late is the hour of this reckoning,

Night - we sang of the muse that cheers,

To forget, briefly, the dreams we had of tomorrow 

Just for the night. 

We sang accappella, 

A song of my distant past, 

Me trying to untie the knot that is my heart, 

Them to ode the muse of their dreams. 

Morning comes to some surprise, 

The tamil beats and raucous rhythm 

Of the tabla and drum 

Mixed with the feng-tau chinese american reject 

That made me laugh at their unoriginality. 

I crawled home - passing uniformed cars, 

That neither inspired nor wound me, 

The foul whisky-tea will last till morning 

Like the knot; 

It's tighter than I thought.