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


Saturday, May 29, 2010

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

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