ARTISAN OF WORDS


I am an artisan of words
Which I sculpt, chisel and fashion the way I can;
I am a creator of worlds;
I pour my emotion into the poems I write.
I breathe life into them, blow them skywards
And finish them only when they sound right.

These remnants of thought without reason
Will remain on pages season after season
Long after I'm gone; when my task is done
The love, the longing, the pain
Will be evoked then by somebody else
Who in turn will remember and write again
To create another slow soft song
That people can read and draw into their hearts
Then pillowed by words, cushioned by dreams
My poems will ride high the moonbeams.


Copyright: Rani Turton 2007


Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Smoke, Mist and Nebulous Things


Tell me then your perceptions of the past
Tell me why hard facts are hard today
Facts tomorrow, then gone away
Do facts, then, rarely last?

Watching the march of time, the artefacts
The ruins they continue to dig up day by day
What remains of those wonderful beings
Who peopled our fables and myths
Smoke, mist and other nebulous things
Spirited them away


Tiptoe in history’s corridors
Crowns, coins and chariots
People, peasants, and simple folk
Just spirited clean away
Where do they lie now?
Unknowns jostling in history’s corridors.

Queens, courtesans, mothers of kings
Toys and things, necklaces and dreams
Smoke, mist and other nebulous things
Spirited them away
Tiptoe in history’s corridors
The modified history of the world
Domination, nomination, abomination

Smoke and mist and nebulous things
Have spirited everyone away

copyright 2008
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