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, August 13, 2009

Clouds That Come And Go: Poem

Clouds That Come And Go
.
Clouds that come and go
Untold divine missions do
They carry out, without pause or falter
They our fates can certainly alter.
.
Clouds that gather up above
Do they ever wonder?
What do scurrying mortals matter?
When the heavens shatter?
.
Now and then clouds do go
Far above to hot unknown lands
The wonder, the surprise, the unabated joy
When they reply to uplifted hands.
.
Copyright: Rani Turton

1 comment:

Home exchange said...

Hey nice poem! I really like the image of the upturned hands! It goes wonderfully with the photo :)