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, June 8, 2010

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

2 comments:

AgapiStudios said...

A beautiful picture and a beautiful poem

nothingprofound said...

"Everyday, while we may." This poem says it all-that's what we're here for.