In the starry darkness of the night sky
The inspired poet's verses fly.
They are quietly dreaming to live in a book
For everyone to see the poet's outlook.
The stanzas freely fly as rhymed consolation,
Spreading the light of the poet's inspiration.
Larisa Rzhepishevska
If you are a poet it means so much
as others souls you often touch.
Your own soul you cruelly cut
petting the others with your blood.
To be a poet means to sing of beauty
and it’s the main poets' duty.
Rhyming words, to tell the truth
and it has to be quite smooth.
To be a poet means to burn with passion,
to treat the others grief with a compassion,
to love the others as yourself,
to hear the voice of kind elf.
To be a poet means to dream,
to tell the world a touching theme,
to speak sincerely and frankly
but not just rhyming poems blankly.
Rhyming words is not the main,
there’s no need to strain your brain.
If your heart has nothing to tell
rhymed words will look like hell.
To be a poet means to write
as if your blood gushes from vein,
to write the rhythm of living breath,
the rhythm of life that seethe.
Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
30/9 2010
My first poem in English was a translation of my own poem from Russian. Then I began translating Russian romances into English. I used to study in a vocal studio and took part in many concerts. Russian romances were the largest part of my repertoire.I was eager to know how they would sound in English and was happy to get my friends comments telling me that they were beautiful. That was the start.
I’ve been writing poetry for about four years. Today I have more than 300 of them.
I was The Golden Pen Award winner with the poems "Disappearing Generation" and " A Voice From The Wildness".
I am so much grateful to all those who inspired me to write not only more but much better.
Some people come into your life and you know right away that they were meant to be there: to teach you lessons, to help you to figure out who you are or who you want to become...You would never realize your potential, strength, willpower or heart if it were not for them. I am grateful to the Lord
who presented me with unique friends from different countries. They effected
my life, they showed me the way to the beauty of a real poetry. They helped
me to believe in myself. Here they are:
DAVE DUNN (Rhumour) – a poet from the United Kingdom.
He has published the collection of his best poems “Rhumour Has it”
I'm not afraid to stand and shout "I care,
for my friends and neighbours - everywhere",
as I know we are all truly one great family,
with one common mother astride our genealogy.
©Rhumour
CAROL RADER – a poet from the United States of America.
Her poetry is so nice and wise. And…she is just a beautiful woman.
For the splendor of the earth..
And skies that never end..
For food and shelter..life and love..
And hearts we will to men.
We ask for naught but everything..
We ask that limb to limb..
Connected be to every tree..
And flowers spread no sin.
For the seas that drink of blue..
We ask to sail them, free..
Be brought back home alive to dwell..
In worlds of harmony.
NALI FATU DE VALAHIA, a Canadian-Romanian poet and artist, has been writing poetry for over 25 years. Her works of art and poems have God’s spark and spiritual beauty.Her works shine as well as her loving heart and beautiful soul.
A gentle breeze from tender site,
Sprinkles her hair with sweet delight.
Gold hues streak from the setting sun,
The evening comes the day is gone.
Within the greener garden wall,
When evening dews begin to fall,
I see the rise, fall with such grace,
Head cradled on her arm, her face,
So clear, so bright as fathers said,
She wears a jewel in her head.
Please mark the colors in her eyes,
What wanders in that circle lies?
For velvet hearts, yet to be found,
To fertilize another ground!
For loving souls, for dearest friends,
For countless blessings which God sends!
Ah, there she is, so often praised,
The beauty to your lips she raised.
The twilight from the yonder years,
Metamorphosing all in bliss!
ROWAN BLAIR COLVER – an artist, a song writer, a poet
from the United Kingdom
She's a girl of magic warmth,
From memory and dreams of all,
A cherished time is every day,
As your steps bring you this way.
My flower grow and blossom well,
Your colours enrich and story tell,
One day soon you'll learn of things,
And find you have two perfect wings.
My little girl from dreams now real,
There was no daylight I had to steal,
Your heart shines like a heavenly sun,
Illuminates, nurtures, warms everyone.
MIKE HANSON is from the United States of America
He plays a lot of music with friends and he is pretty good on a campout or around the fire. He is not a poet but he has a poetic heart. He lives in St.Louis, but has been spending most of the time at the family farm. He enjoys working and playing with the young horses.
RAFAEL ROMERO BLANCO is from Spain. He is a gentleman
with a very kind heart. He writes poems in Spanish. I don’t know Spanish but read his poems using a translater and understand that he is a real man.
God save you from uninvited sadness
that knock at the windows at blind nights,
from sweet cheats that seem to be happiness
but then …. as an enemy smites.
God save you from unneeded advices,
from insulting libels, from vain expectations,
from those who pretend to be friends
and then …. go with denunciations.
God save you on the non shallow roads,
save from the choice between duty and wish,
save from the pain of loss and doubts,
save from needless suffering and anguish.
God bless, save and protect you today and always!
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 15th of April, 2012
THE GOLDEN PEN AWARD WINNER
I was so lucky to be born in the most beautiful and the warmest city in the world – Odessa, Odessa in Ukraine.
When I say ‘the warmest’ I do not mean the climate but the nature of the people who live here, though the climate is also nice.
There are more than 250 sunny days in a year.
Odessa is a pearl on the Black Sea shore. They say here: Odessa is God’s smile.
Alexander Pushkin, a great Russian poet, after staying in Odessa in 1823-1824, used to say: The skies are clear for a long time here.
His famous novel in verse “Eugene Onegin” Pushkin began to write in Odessa. "I lived in the dusty Odessa then" . Funny to read his words now.
If the city was dusty at the begining of the 19th century what to say today when
there is a lot of cars, traffic jams and industrial products?
The city has produced many writers, including Isaac Babel, with his series of short stories, Odessa Tales. Other odessites are: Ilf and Petrov and Yuri Olesha, Vera Inber, a poet and a writer, Edward Bagritsky, Margarita Aliger. The Italian writer, slavist and anti-fascist dissident Leone Ginzburg was born in Odessa in a Jewish family, and then went to Italy where he grew up and lived.
Odessa has established status of the capital of Russian and Jewish humor.
They say: Humor crystallized here like salt from the seawater.
Two Odessa ladies run into each other on the street. One says to the other:
- Sarah, dear, why don’t you say anything about my new dress?
- I’m sorry, Rosa, honey, I’m in no mood for a scandal.
I have my own joke. If someone tells me that he or she was not in Odessa I say:
If you were not in Odessa where have you been then?
A lot of other short jokes of mine you can find on the left side of my site.
The longer ones are on the page: HUMOROUS POEMS
I don’t write poems,
I drink them like wine,
I become tipsy
with each coming line.
I don’t write poems,
I breathe them like air,
I become so happy
when each one I share.
I don’t write poems,
I live with them;
they prolong my years,
they are as true as I am.
I don’t write poems,
I weave into verses
sadness, joy, tears,
prayers, love, curses…
My poems talk and sing,
Sense of living they bring.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
26th of April, 2012
Tenderly stepping on the last snow
The first of March is coming.
Spring will release the love arrow,
Beautiful songs of love humming.
The feeling of spring is known to all,
It happens every coming year.
My loving spring has no wall,
Its sounds I can clearly hear.
March is a harbinger of changes.
It smiles happily together with me.
Its grace has the wide ranges:
New natures wonders we’ll see.
March – without experience at all,
Hastens through the dew or snow,
Like a young and naïve girl,
Afraid her gratefulness to show.
March will surely find its way.
It’s free, it’s swift, affectionate.
April will come, and then May.
What a fantastic natures state!
Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
I am a lady of a stunning age,
I can still perform on a stage.
I can still be someone’s pride,
My range of interests is wide.
Putting on a stunning dress
I’ll make every man confess
She is a woman of super class
Who hates swagger and sass.
With sniper fidelity and my charm,
Without any noise and extra alarm
I’ll kill all men on the spot, at once.
Not giving anyone a chance.
I can become someone’s prize.
That someone will have to realize
How much I am expressive,
All in me is just impressive.
I can still be someone's Sunday,
Make an ordinary day a holiday,
Get a bottle of laugh from a store,
At breakneck speed new explore.
And due to my fascinating view
I can make anything to become true
For example, replacing old with new
But … I just don’t feel like to.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 12th of April, 2012
FOR WHOM TO FISH OR HUNT
I will not write about love or separations,
About types of men are my cogitations.
Number one is a man of super class.
Abundance of them goes to the mass.
A car is the main thing in his life,
He marries it and it becomes his wife.
He is free like a bird and forever in flight
The highway he travels days and at night.
Another one here seems to be like a gift,
Intelligent, quiet, in all he likes thrift.
He loves himself, to others indifferent,
So often cheats and so much prudent.
Many times divorced he everyone kicks
And to marry again he does not risk.
This one is assured with cars and a house
It takes him a second to unbutton your blouse,
He looks exactly like a crown prince,
In paradise living he tries you to convince.
But here my dear don’t make an illusion
As his soul is empty and he is in confusion.
This man looks as a very domestic,
He sits on a couch and looks majestic
He hates any company, he is a TV viewer,
In life and in his wife he has to be sure.
He is always a hard-working and humble,
He doesn’t like worries and jumble.
There is a single one, a bachelor forever.
In love pool he won’t rush. Never!
With his mother he must all details discuss,
So that his parents will not him cuss.
His advances will be long and boring
Your opinion he is just ignoring.
This one is romantic but he is so rare
He ages mix up and he looks an ideal.
Candy and flowers, obsolete phrases,
His love making simply amazes.
He’ll always dream and your body admire,
But sorry to say that: won’t be on fire.
This one is intelligent, handsome and rich,
Has family, children and all likes to teach.
In all he knows limits and measure
And only career is his main treasure.
If you are satisfied with the role of mistress
You have to be patient and a good actress.
A philosopher man is a very versatile.
Struck by meditation when he was a child
He sees and knows the essence of Earth
The pearls of knowledge he gives birth .
This one often causes smiles and laugh,
For most women he looks so tough.
But that our philosopher doesn’t concern
He knows exactly where to turn.
Married to his ideas he is certainly unique
Energy expanse! His mind is so quick!
Through times he merged with eternity,
Not knowing his wife and his paternity.
Enough of flying! Let’s go down on Earth!
Let’s talk about a man who loves his hearth.
A man as a getter, a man as a dean,
A lot of options can be found and seen.
Let's be consistent and now go to fish,
Mackerel or perches are always good dish.
We'll buy the baits, we’ll put a good rod
And look for the man to be caught.
This process is exciting and endless
But it’s worth as a good business.
The splash of energy! The game is great!
Sooner or later he’ll be on the plate.
The world of hunting is interesting more
As wild animals you’ll have to explore.
They all are different in their behavior
In Irlandia, Britannia or even in Kenya.
If you are not a hunter or do not like fishing
You’ll hear the only one crawfish swishing.
That is the reality of present life,
For everything you have to strive.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
22nd of April, 2012
Who is knocking at the door?
Can’t you see I’m not at home?
Only yesterday you come
We shall eat for breakfast rum.
Glass is crawling on the wall,
It is wooden like a brick.
Let it crawl, let it fall!
Fly is also a chick.
Brick is crawling on the wall.
It is hairy like a tram.
Let it crawl, let it fly!
We don’t need that reddish tie.
Now a camel is on the wall.
All its knees with tar it washed.
And a horse, being lovely squashed,
Eats the sun seeds on a ball.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
The 12th of March, 2012
A little bit confused was beautiful Spring,
She had to choose for life a bridegroom.
Who will give her a wedding ring?
Three men wanted to be her happy and bloom.
March, April and May vied with each other.
About their great love they quietly talked.
April was for Spring like a brother,
With March she just often liked to walk.
Timid March gave her beautiful primroses,
Out of snowdrops he made a wreath,
He didn’t want to know any losses,
He promised her the whole world’s wealth.
Delicate and sweet was April.
He gave her a necklace of brilliant drops.
The life with him could be stable, - he said,
She’d be rich and would get good crops.
A wonderful May pleaded Spring:
You are my love! Take my wedding ring!
Be quick, Spring! Be my wife!
We’d be happy together the whole life.
And Spring trusted the handsome May.
Without any delay she sewed the white dress,
For the veil she took the apples blossoms.
That was her best and the happiest day.
The whole world was whirling in the dance.
May was getting married with Spring!
The Earth was full of love and romance,
Happiness to all this marriage would bring.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
28th of March, 2012
© Copyright Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine) All rights reserved