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


Wednesday, December 29, 2010

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

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