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


Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Revelations, Sobering: Poem



















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Revelations, Sobering

I was only one more pebble on the shore.
I was only one more star in the sky.
When the eternal wind, cosmic or terrestrial
Stellar or sober, blew, blew like the last call
I was the cosmic dust and the desert gloom

The drops of rain that splatter on city sidewalks
The waves that slowly claim the beaches
The lunar tides, the birds last songs
The time to come, the moments gone by.

Glimpse this instant of life
My window is the world
The bread I eat, the hand I hold,
The love in my eyes will tell the ocean's gaze
Life has to be lived with intensity
I am one with the world's density.

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