Unbearable Sorrow: Poem

UNBEARABLE SORROW

 Deep within the snowbound reaches
Of my mind, never speak it out so loud, sorrow
Unbearable; waiting to reach out;
Oh, what it can do to you.

Imprisoned in frost, emotional hiatus
Emotion, feeling, possession
Sofly, sound-dampened sorrow
Waiting to be let out
Unbearable, borne for too long

The reality of waiting, wanting, thirsting
Falling, falling, falling as feelings get snow-bound.

Borne through fire, borne through the years
Sorrow, burning, burning white and bright
All through these years, these tears
All these years, these tears.

Copyright: Rani Turton

The Kiskiralylany Szobor (The Little Princess), Budapest

This wonderful sculpture is actually a little girl, though at first sight it looks like a little boy. It is quite small, and actually looks like a child sitting on the fence near the Vigado tram stop. The artist is Laszlo Marton. Behind her you can see Buda castle.

More about the artist:

http://www.martonlaszlo.hu/eeletr.htm

Detail of Gate, Palais de Justice Paris

Beautiful rosettes on the gate of the Palais de Justice, Paris (The Courts).

If I Should See You Again: Poem

Today, As Always: Poem

TODAY, AS ALWAYS

Today, as always and as often before
Dreading the light that falls on my face
The fingers that fumble and won’t find
Yesterday, today and tonight.

Worse than the morrow
Is the memory of sorrow
To know at the end of each day
That emotion has flown away.

O desultory rhyme. Time after time
I tried, the paradox of living and forgiving
I can try each day. Each morning the sun
Will rise, will slide, will set

Morning and mourning. The surprise
The yearning, the knowing
Today, as always at sunrise.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Palais de Justice, Rouen

Detail of the courts at Rouen. This edifice was begun in the 15th century.

Clock sculpture, Arman, Paris

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Interesting clock sculpture outside the Gare St Lazare by the artist Arman(1928-2005).

Street Art: Jim Morrison

Jim Morrison, immortalised on a pillar in Budapest.

Wooden Statue, Auxerre: Photograph

Timeworn statue decorating the facade of a house in Auxerre, France.

So Far Have I Travelled: Poem

So Far Have I Travelled

So far have I travelled, from one shore to another.
I saw the sunset and moonrise from various city roofs;
Dusty tracks, cobbled stones and also
The sound of horses' clattering hoofs.

So far have I travelled and heard the lilt
Of speech's cadence;
When sleep touched my eyelids I lost myself
In destiny's strange dance.

So far have I travelled and for so long;
So long the road, so deep the reflection:
There is a moral as ever to be found
Life was never perfection.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Potterie: Photograph

Pottery for sale in a French market.

Pont Alexandre; Paris

Statue on the Pont Alexandre III, Paris.

Lessons I Never Learned: Poem

LESSONS I NEVER LEARNED


Backbencher in grief schooling;
Never able to rationalize my loss;
Questioning pain as though life was
Just another dice's toss.
Whenever I thought of death
Or of people going away;
My breath stuck in my throat
And grief walked beside me that day.

I never learned the right way or the wrong way
Towards and away from loss;
I never thought it could be so hard:
I guess my learning was full of flaws.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Without You: Poem

WITHOUT YOU


Without you the waters lie still; the reflections of silent trees
Remain as though transfixed but not tranfigured
Green shrubs and leaves remain sombre; clouds peer
And wonder at the stillness.
It might even rain. Why doesn’t the rain
Fall now and be done with it’s will?

Without you feelings remain in my heart
Unable to be expressed. Freedom and finery
Are long behind. Senses and sense are nonsense.
When will the cells in my body awake?
When will the dawn come and awakening light
Awaken my brain?

Let me wait for another day yet again.


Copyright: Rani Turton

Spider: Street Art, Paris

Cute spider on a street wall in Paris poised naturally, ready to spin it's web.

THERAPHOSA: HARD AND METAL ROCK GROUP

I happened to see this fabulous young group performing on Music Day (held the 21st June in France).  It was worth it to see their guitar dexterity and vocals, tinging on the heavy metal sound. The public was entranced for many songs. A real crowd puller, this group can go very very far. For those  interested in French rock or metal groups singing in English in France look up Theraphosa!

http://www.myspace.com/theraphosamusic

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Theraphosa/194472491306

(Permission asked and gotten for this writeup).

Everyday, While We May

Everyday, While We May

To watch the trailing rose on stone walls
Dew on flowers, a resting bird on tree
To listen to the wind, feel the rain,
Everyday, while we may

The sun with it's golden beams
Warms the flesh yet alive
Stars that glisten and shine
Bread, that the soul may dine;
While we may.

While we may, blood and bone
Skin, touch, tears and pain;
Remind us that each and every cell
Lives, and then hears the knell.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Waiting, Listening, Thinking: Poem

Waiting, Listening, Thinking

Waiting day by day
In the only possible way
The only plausible path
Lies straight, like an arrow
However rocky and narrow.

Oft in sundry guise
I dreamt of sunny skies;
Reflecting on life and its turns;
But to my great surprise
One learns and learns and learns.

Breathe the air, smell the wind;
The earth has a heart and a mind;
All that remains in the end
Is the love that we had to spend;
All that remains when our lives are done
Is the earth, the sky, the stars and the sun.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Children's Art: Heart

Vivid colours for a bright and stylised heart.

Artist: Indrani

Walking On That Far Shore: Poem

WALKING ON THAT FAR SHORE

Walking on that far shore
You know, the one that hardly existed anymore.
.
The far shore, unhindered by daily reality;
Only glimpsed by immortal glances,
By those in mortal pain; when
The sun falls on fallen lids
When the rain cools and heals
When the body doesn't shiver
And the soul shines like quicksilver.
.
Walking on that far shore
You know, the one on the horizon
That comes closer with every stride;
As the page of life turns, alas rapidly
I, from that far shore cannot hide.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Children's Art: Study in Blue

A lovely woman in a lovely blue dress. A child's conception of an elegant lady.

Delage 1927

A Delage vinatge car to dream over.

Grafitti Truck, Paris

A truck that has been redone by street art.

Whispers Into The Brick Wall: Poem

WHISPERS INTO THE BRICK WALL

Who else will listen silently while I speak of my love for you
Who else will stand still while I whisper my secrets
Those deep, hidden secrets buried in my heart
Except this rough, brick wall
Standing so tough and so tall
While I whisper all I have to say;
Nobody would remain as stoic and immobile.
No, nobody could or would. I ,myself
Knowing myself so well, can hardly believe all
That I pour out into this ready wall’s ear
I , myself, can hardly listen to my own words
Speaking out my barely avowed hesitations
And uncommitted love's crimes; I , myself softly touch
This rugged wall and it’s surface
As though it is the skin of my loved one’s face.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Woman With Glass: Children's Art

Woman with high heels, glass of wine and diamond in her nose. A lot of masacra and lipstick too. Wow!

Drawing Courtesy: Indrani

Talking To Nobody: Poem

TALKING TO NOBODY

When the sun dips and bows goodbye
I, at the window, watching the cityscape,
Admiring the dusk
Talking to nobody.

A cosmic dance, unpatented
Patiently the sun prepares its solitary revolution
Or so it seems: the sun, the window and I
Talking to nobody.

Footsteps down below
The fundamental alliance between
Between the sun, the lonely one and I
Is that we excel,  at this exquisite  art of talking to

Nobody.

Copyright: Rani Turton

HOURS

HOURS

In spite of or rather because of
A boundless imagination bequeathed by my forebears

Leaping and skimming over life's incidents and accidents
Waiting and patience are not only virtues

In spite of or rather because of a certain sentience
That begins but doesn't complete the sentence

Phrases are like life; sometimes broken
At times unfinished and often unspoken

And these hours dribbling and dragging on, forever on
From the very beginning, the moment one is born.

When the end comes, alone in a foreign land
The hours will stop and nobody needs to understand.

Copyrght: Rani Turton

Street Art, Paris

On a rather torn wall, Charlie Chaplin.

The Lyrics To This Song: Poem

The Lyrics To This Song

In sunlight, strong or weak; watching a floating leaf;
In rain that wet my head and washed out my eyes
In snow gliding like a ghost
Whenever the wind on the hill blew
And I thought of whatever I knew.

The lyrics to this song
Came to the memory of your glance
I, the poet, the exiled and you
Not knowing where to place me
In your ordered world:

I have nothing in my hands, not even a flower;
Just the love in my heart and all it's power.

Come, walk with me slowly up this slope
Life is so short and I do so much need
Your warm clasping hand
And a little bit of hope.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Bird On Shell

Bird elegantly perched on a seashell.

Glass Bangles at a Stand

The tinkling sound of glass bangles is lovely. Women who wear them, the simplest of them look so feminine.