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


Thursday, May 14, 2009

The Rose and the Shadow: Poem

The Rose and the Shadow
.
The rose spoke o the shadow:
"But why do you follow me?"
The shadow replied, "Never have I seen
A beauty to rival with thee."
.
The rose blushed in confusion
And didn't know what to say
The shadow, courteously said:
"Let me stay near you if I may".
.
"It is only by your substance
That I may take form
Your very existence enables me
To exist and perform."
.
The rose and the shadow thus
Became the closest of friends
From sunrise to sunset
The shadow the rose defends.
.
Copyright: Rani Turton
All rights reserved

1 comment:

Delia Psyche said...

O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
Blake

Liked your poem. Thanks--David