Best Repine Poems
When I lay me down to sleep,
And cry the tears that sinners weep;
To speak the words of a contrite prayer,
And know that someone listens there.
He cares for sheep that have gone astray,
Who willfully wander their own way;
They vex the pride that hides within,
And drink the bitter cup of sin.
The web of lies and dark deception,
Lie in defeat of Light’s conception;
To capture all and destroy life,
With passion’s fire and human strife
We need to plant the gospel vine,
Where evil rules and saints repine.
While martyrs lead with ransomed prayer,
With hope for life that tarries there.
Blood that was shed on Calvary,
Set slaves of transgression wholly free.
So we rise from the grave to seek reward,
Giving praise to our risen Lord.
Sweet Rosalia was here with me
but for a year and a day
when we strolled the cliff beside the sea
to see the oceans spray
Sweet bairn of mine did laugh and clap
to see a butterfly
she reached her hand when broke the strap
fell from the cliff to die
Poor child of mine made not a peep
when fell unto the rocks
I pulled her from the watery deep
my bairn with sable locks
Such deep lament pooled off my face
she cradled in my arms
the tumble left none of a trace
the blow that did her harm
I could not bare to cover her
in mother natures brown
nor place on her the white death fleur
in cold and darkened ground
So Rosalia I did place
inside a glass top bed
forever more you'll see her face
whilst sadly she lay dead
I could not bear such deep repine
my heart could not erase
when saw the child did break my mind
wrapped in inky Seas embrace
My Deep lament would not erase
visions of my darling drowned
So I stepped unto the cold cliff face
And flung my body down
When I lay me down to sleep,
And cry the tears that sinners weep;
To speak the words of a contrite prayer,
And know that someone listens there.
He cares for sheep that have gone astray,
Who willfully wander their own way;
They vex the pride that hides within,
And drink the bitter cup of sin.
The web of lies and dark deception,
Lie in defeat of Light’s conception;
To capture all and destroy life,
With passion’s fire and human strife.
We need to plant the gospel vine,
Where evil rules and saints repine.
While martyrs lead with ransomed prayer,
With hope for life that tarries there.
Blood that was shed on Calvary,
Set slaves of transgression wholly free.
So we rise from the grave to seek reward,
Giving praise to a risen Lord.
Goodbyes
drift cross
the sands of time-
leaving regrets to
repine.
Hope seeks to breathe beyond the walls,
Laboured and empty the effort falls,
Her heart, recanting passion's song-
Beats wildly as though to right a wrong.
Could it be she lives to weep
Over love that never dared to keep
The promise it whispered to her plight
Through that dark and frigid winter night?
Engulphed by fear the statue tries,
To kill it's pride, and end the lies.
To cultivate a heart of flesh again,
And stand humbly beside mortal men.
The clouds mock the sun, and it's life-giving light,
They hold back their torrents, though not from sight.
Below the flora withers in parched repine,
Waiting for a single teardrop to resign.
YLE
How fulgent heaven's eye doth shine
Glistening warmly from the skies.
No bitter thoughts of life confines
My heart to bid to hope goodbyes.
For in the darkest cave of sorrows
Hope will lead me through my days.
Like clouds - away from me blows
The dashed dreams of yesterday.
My prayers will labor not in vain
For love may grace my misty days.
Dreams the golden prize I'd claim
In life's ever daunting pathways.
This new born year I claim as mine
The sorrowing songs of life will mute
No dread may turn my heart repine
Or shape the splendor of my youth.
''If you can imagine it,
You can achieve it;
If you can dream it,
You can become it.''
William Arthur Ward
Come my sweet to silken thread,
finest twines I spin for thee.
Come to soft eternal bed,
yield unto my beck’ning plea.
Finest twines I spin for thee,
comfort grant in final hour.
Yield unto my beck’ning plea,
hunger doth my soul devour.
Comfort grant in final hour,
clothe thee in my flossy shroud.
Hunger doth my soul devour,
quick I’ll be, if I’m allowed.
Clothe thee in my flossy shroud,
tremble not beloved prey.
Quick I’ll be, if I’m allowed,
Why, my lust, must thou delay?
Tremble not beloved prey,
now I take what’s fairly mine.
Why, my lust, must thou delay?
Quiet love, without repine.
Now I take what’s fairly mine,
this is my eternal bed.
Quiet love, without repine,
spin again my silken thread.
~~~~~~
(for the Pantoum contest)
* I took some liberty with the form- in the last stanza I modified the 2nd and 4th lines from
the original ones in the first stanza- just gotta be me... *
Son of Trembling
The Sun will stop to shine
Where trapped they do recline
Where they drink and dine
Yet, search, pine and repine.
Would Humane inside him stir
To forsake malicious flair
Has he conscience ever known
To He has he ever knelt down?
Where’s his mind or his heart?
Does he have the thinking part
To heed voice of he who cry
Or pain of victims who fly??
Has he known peace or sate
From when War was his mate?
To see another in pangs of strife
Does it grant mirth to his life??
Barking Gun; ditty to his ear
Ammo. a burden worthy to bear.
Petals Of (red) Blood, his flower
For, those who cringe or cower.
Monster trembling with rage
With a trigger-crazy entourage.
He may kill, blood may spill
One day he’ll pay the Bill!
Stop, think- Trembler go Home
Prodigal Son, you’ll be welcome.
Hand of Friendship not treason
Shake while still in season....
You deserve Peace and Love,
Forgiveness from He Above
They deserve Peace and Mirth,
They don’t deserve Dearth.
Return to senses and to the fold
Get out of the Dark and the cold
Get out of the gruesome Grove
Get into the Light of Peace!
You need Him; He needs you
Divided you fall, it’s quite true.
Let mad aggression cease
Before both of you decrease!
There’s no winner with a Sabre
Or Victor with face of a cadaver
Winner of all averts an Affray
Suppressing ire on a Bad Day!
Country has trees yielding table
Sit, talk live or via the cable.
Carpenters exist to curve a chair
Sit, talk, Rebel would you dare!
• We are Poets, not Politicians. However, bear with me, oh dear Scribes, to condemn mournful events unfolding from my maternal homeland of Mozambique!
• I write with a heavy heart, despite an extended hand to dialogue in the face of the sword of Damocles menacingly hanging. Hostility and intransigence is being allowed to carry the day.
• Would I, Prometheus, (be) Unbound!
JM
06th Nov’ 2013
Caught in a Cats-hat
You obviously admire the bestiality of a canine,
Hence , you probably find me rather asinine
And the confident swagger of a *****-cat
Is grossly superior to the airs of this pretensive plutocrat.
So you will , alas, never be my concubine,
Due to my propensity for the libertine,
(not to mention the table wine)
I do not have the means of an autocrat
And have only the sensibilities of a pornocrat.
Your disposition to adore the canine and the feline
Makes me feel like a philandering Philistine.
I will always be such a yellow-dog democrat
That I quite threaten to knock off your high hat.
And now for the denouement, my valentine,
For your humble blessings I repine
For the company of furry, felinous, feral Sumi-cat
I do so miss inhabiting her habitat.
g Tiberius
On a day that had to be
He was nailed to a tree,
for crimes He did not commit
but He knew He must submit
They beat him so badly
that others cried so sadly,
but He would not repine
for your sins and for mine
A man... a son like no other
treated each one like a brother,
He forgave them because He knew
"For they know not what they do"
He died that day nailed to a crossed tree,
He did it because He loves you and me.
My poems have blissfully escorted me
through the gamut of seasons,
having afforded me not the sensations
of their individual touch.
I stand worlds away from the blustering
wind that shudders the meekest of boughs.
My hopes quaver along with their stammering vows
falling from my lips like fronds from a tree.
And such are the leaves that greet decay.
And such are the promises to myself
that become aberrant from their purpose
along destiny's ever altering way.
May the season of love sensate my heart
and breathe into my repine a breath
of everlingering sustenance and depth.
The wintry wind blows wretched and bold
with no whisper of love to be for now
in the background of the strident sound
it creates sweeping through this snow-laden town.
I cannot help but recall,
Peers of eminent prestige,
Some passed on forever gone,
Others lost for sake of fear,
Long nights of acoustic bliss,
Beating back the demons in me,
As I repine those odes of past,
Relief of dawn comes fleetly,
Hordes of faces have come and gone,
Companions never seem to last,
My true desire is to be whole,
Realized to myself be true.
Greenish black silhouettes of trees
sans the complacency
mystique in their conversation,
a stream of uneven triangular arcs
in commune with the lilac-grey
puffs of floating vapor
coalescing in rebellion,
scent of wild delicate roses,
a lover's temptation,
cascades of prismatic water
falling like emotions hard
then, mingling plan-gently
in the river of thoughts,
a lavish pristine green meadow
inventive in its own league,
celestial beads of a night gown
defying the theory of
existentialism,
then why stand petrified
by the fire lit by yourself?
a self fluorish of ambiguities
and repine,
if discern the other side of
darkness
you lay ablaze in ethereal
incandescene,
the hieroglyphs of creator's rescue...
Sanmati, my angel, has decorated jawline.
Aside puts cold anger and does repine
Negative things in her life, but always supine
Merry things about the wide world divine.
Against me or her things she despise saline.
Tough tenderness she got for me in palatine,
Ignoring angry love or a speck on her tine
Jot down related things like family of feline.
Almighty may support her in future design
Illustrating Triumph and Failure, outshine
Nebo by her sweet behavior saccharine.
Laying brick by brick, with stickum in between.
A stone on top of another: dream quest and scene,
erected diligently, with a blueprint at the ready.
Each dot and line progression is sure and steady.
Despite storms, hurdles, and limited funding
With slow but steady aims, slanted rashly cunning,
with optimism, sharing in God's dream design.
Adversity shapes us to strive rather than repine.
God's will is a bunker, so every lesson is a brick
His word is final, and the walls of the friary are thick
Our foundation is the cornerstone of our existence
Lord God, the ruler of men, smooths the essence.
I savor being amazed; trust my full autonomy.
A heart full of hope gives way to honesty.
It's optimistic, soul-strengthening, and simple.
We stir up lies, and our ignorance is sinful.
Our love shrinks our hatred with each pulse.
It's tough to stay aside; must veins convulse?
I'm not sure what they'll do if we meet to shine.
Our passion for each other will be closer to fine.
Written: February 16, 2023
Closer To Fine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann