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


Monday, January 10, 2011

A Thought, A Line, A Rhyme: Poem


A Thought, A Line, A Rhyme

If only, clothed in mystery and technical delight
Lines would write themselves down word perfect and bright
Instead of a kind of imperfect poetic sonism
Ah! writing a poem is more than hedonism

It started  with a thought, straying wildly and then
Inspired a line, and all the while; stay the thought even when
My fingers tried to write a single line
In silence, trying to still this heart of mine.

But even then, it wasn't each and every day;
Writing verse isn't as easy as they say.
Words followed neither rhythm nor time:
Slowly came a thought, a line, a rhyme.

Copyright: Rani Turton

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