Alexandre Dumas, Statue

Statue of French writer Alexandre Dumas at Villers-Cotterêts, his birthplace.

Life in Pastel: Poem

Life In Pastel

I think and often imagine
Even in scorched dreams
Myself and life as it seems;
As it seems, seems, seems.

I have a tenuous grip on reality
A self-made functional mode.
I think I have some aspects of alterity;
I can think in colours unrefined.

Pastel, refined, softspoken,
Colours that were not mine;
I can speak in languages
That are  often tough and fine.

I can think in pastel
Speak in pastel and subdued
My life, often in colours bright
To this  has now been reduced.

I have a life in pastel but inside
I have emotion bright and strong
I can think in pastel but emotion
Remains vivid and lifelong.

Life, filaments of life, in muted hues,
Is thus what it amounts to:
Live softly, there is yet a vivid dream
That I am driven to pursue.

Copyright: Rani Turton

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

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

The Kiskiralylany Szobor (The Little Princess), Budapest

This wonderful sculpture is actually a little girl, though at first sight it looks like a little boy. It is quite small, and actually looks like a child sitting on the fence near the Vigado tram stop. The artist is Laszlo Marton. Behind her you can see Buda castle.

More about the artist:

http://www.martonlaszlo.hu/eeletr.htm

Detail of Gate, Palais de Justice Paris

Beautiful rosettes on the gate of the Palais de Justice, Paris (The Courts).

If I Should See You Again: Poem

Today, As Always: Poem

TODAY, AS ALWAYS

Today, as always and as often before
Dreading the light that falls on my face
The fingers that fumble and won’t find
Yesterday, today and tonight.

Worse than the morrow
Is the memory of sorrow
To know at the end of each day
That emotion has flown away.

O desultory rhyme. Time after time
I tried, the paradox of living and forgiving
I can try each day. Each morning the sun
Will rise, will slide, will set

Morning and mourning. The surprise
The yearning, the knowing
Today, as always at sunrise.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Palais de Justice, Rouen

Detail of the courts at Rouen. This edifice was begun in the 15th century.

Clock sculpture, Arman, Paris

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Interesting clock sculpture outside the Gare St Lazare by the artist Arman(1928-2005).