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


Thursday, January 10, 2013

Nothing To Do With My Life: Poem

















Nothing To Do With My Life.

I heard the clouds whisper from .land to land
It seemed that rumours were running rife.
Nothing to do with my life.
Nothing to do with my solitary life,
Nothing to do with my perturbed mind.

There was a rift in celestial realms.
Nothing seemed to be the same anymore.
What happened, what was to happen
World spinning fast on jerky axis
Tsunami, forest fire, war in many lands

I heard the clouds whispering
My mind tried to remain calm.
Lightning in a bleak black sky; tempest
Over choppy water; drops of water
Falling,falling, onto placid lakes
Thinking, regretting many mistakes.

Clouds that move from land to land.
Maybe only they can really understand.


Copyright (text and image): Rani Turton
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1 comment:

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April 12, 2013 at 3:37 PM

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