THE DEATH OF A POET

It was whispered in heaven
Planned and natured on earth
Anticipated in both ritual homes
Rumors spread in paradise
Fat lambs, sweet wines prepared
Fire lit, flame rejuvenated in hell
It was seen in lightening and heard in thunderstorm
In the depth of the sea, in the sphere asunder
Swiftly breathe and quickly dies in an hour
While pale face sets on bed like a decorated flower
The streaming voices and cries of the hairs all over
Announcing and pronouncing the brewing of a liquor
To merry and cherish this life left to slumber
Memories and praises of the quill handler blankets all over
With moments of wine and dine from Panari to Sarova
Walking, cycling and driving land rover
The depth of the sea and height of the mountains confessed
Of a wingless robin flying even to the skies of heaven
Ooh the study table, the quill did rest
While the holder, earth opens space rest to give the best

© Robins 2012

I LOVE YOU

Like a million sunshine
That comes by dawn and gone by night
For your beauty that drips honey
And voice that harms melodies of an orchestra

For your intelligent words and thoughts
For your whispers like chania streams in its falls
Like my name in a game of fame
Like a million stars in the dark lonely night
Like the breath full scents of the lilies and roses
Like the strength of a million stallion and horses
Like candy to the salivating mouth of a baby girl
Like a blend of orutu to the plucking strings of nyatiti
Like a president to his powerful throne
Like a white dove to the sign of peace and love
Like a rainbow to the rain by day
Like a cry of a baby to the ears of its mother
Like a bed time story upon its climax
Like a drowning man at a  straw
Like a poet to a dripping pen
I love you more than words could ever show

© Robins 2013

ON MEETING YOU

On meeting you

On meeting you
It feels like
I should keep admiring you
On meeting you,
It feels like
I should keep on liking you
On meeting you

The mystery hills are enchanting
My heart is desirous of meeting you
Again... and again….
The mystery hills are enchanting
My heart is desirous of meeting you
Again…and again…
My innocent heart is unable to know
Why does it feel so?
On meeting you
It feels like
I should keep admiring you
On meeting you
It feels like
I should like you

In spite of, the number of times I see you
It never seems to be enough
I cannot see anything
Other than you
In spite of the number of times I see you
It never seems to be enough
I cannot see anything
Other than you
The condition of my heart
Was not like this before
On meeting you
It feels like
I should keep on admiring you
On meeting you
It feels like
I should keep on liking you
On meeting you

© Robins 2013

SICHEZE MBALI

Siku baki kenda

natua mpendwa

sitie shaka

sicheze mbali naja 

Ishara na nne
siku kufika arubaine
zangu kawadia
japo nasinzia;
kwako naning'inia
sicheze mbali malkia

Mwendo ni wa kuvutia
hamna haraka,zawadia
japo moyo twajivunia
kwa umbali bara kanusia
sicheze mbali nakaribia

naja kwa mashua
punde ntatua
shada la maua ntapokea
bandarini kunipokea
sicheze mbali nakaribia

Sifi majini
nisizikwe vumbini
nife niwe hali jamani
siseme burhani
sicheze mbali
najivutia Unipe loniandalia

japo nasinzia
kuwaza na kuwazua
safari yote
hadi kutua
sicheze mbali
nakuamkia

© Robins 2014

Flurry

Tossed and blown about,

To the rhythm of every looming wind of emotions,
Here I stand under the pouring rain.
To wash away some tears shed again,
Cool the erupted emissions of this burning flame,
Flame of vengeance, flame of anger, flame of hatred,
Here I stand on this pilgrim way,
Of royals who smile, upon every stumbling pain,
Of a Saul waiting to be buried in pain,
A heart bruised a prisoner of internal jail,
Fears’ the jail within the pouring rain.
Weeping for a life lost: for justice delayed,
Weep ooh weep for,
Hope bears upon her hands, fete.
Of minds trouped and troubles doubled
Minds meant to make way on a trembling grain
Of sand and dust, to wash by the pouring rain

WHEN THE WIND HAS CHANGED IT'S BLOW

When the wind changed its blow,

And the sun shines no more

I recall my one precious vow

And one special time I’d bow

When nothing but;

Memories seems to know

When the wind has changed its blow

How better I’d be with raining tears

While plucking strings sings no more

Nor birds by summer seems to know

The sound that pleases my ears,

My ears have known no fear

Than the fear of thee gone astray

And the wind changed its flow

And the only bread I’ve got

Is to wish you were gone, not

And find the road back home

Lest my heart be gone

Home, to the dudgeon flame of cry

Sorrow knows no blow,

Than the wind that changed its flow

© Robie Nson 2014