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


Sunday, July 3, 2011

Father's Day Is Almost Done: Poem


Father's Day Is Almost Done

Father's day is almost done;
His hair shines silver in the light:
His hands, frail, hold a book,
His smiles to see a bird in flight.

He walks slowly as though
To still time in it's flight;
The sun will set, will set
And it will soon become night.

Father knows life is fragile.
With every passing season;
He unravels thread by thread
His life's passion and it's reason.

Copyright: Rani Turton

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