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


Friday, August 27, 2010

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