My Heart's Empty Spaces: Poem

My Heart's Empty Spaces

I have looked for you in many strange places:
Highways, subways, and in my heart's empty spaces.
By brightlight, flickering light, by rain and sun.
I waited. That is when this quest had begun.

I wrote in imperfect rhymes, by day and night.
That is how the heart reasons, and why I write.
That is how the ache is dissipated, as days go on
As times whistles by and hope is born.

I have waited at street corners, even in biting cold
Many strange cities have I roamed, wild and bold;
To follow my destiny was a toss of dice.
Beloved, if only you could love me twice.


Copyright: Rani Turton

Photograph: Lord Ganesha

A close up of Ganesha, magnificent in shades of gold.

Adored: Poem

Adored

All steps lead to your door; all paths lead to you somehow.
When I saw you the very first time, it was evident to me
Life’s doors opened and closed for you. That my life
That the years, all these days and nights lay in your eyes.
Adored you are, adored you will remain, come what may.
Life can be fickle. My heart, however, is sworn to secrecy
Though sometimes weary; but walking, walking
On this road of destined love. Adored you are.
You will always be.
Precious as the air I breathe,
As vital as life is to me.

Copyright (text and image): Rani Turton

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

Bandplayer at Indian Marriage, Delhi

The band players are dressed for the occasion, and fit in beautifully with the bright, shimmering colours of the festivities!

The Painted Trucks of India

Indian roads have marvellous handpainted trucks that brighten up mundane living. The artists use colours imaginatively, and the motifs can be mythological, Bollywoodian, Nature or just about anything. Wonderful!

Street Art: Victor Hugo, Paris

A fabulous interpretation of Victor Hugo. The artist has, it seems, rubbed the dust off the walls with considerable dexterity. This work of art is to be found at the Place des Vosges, Paris. The museum of Victor Hugo is to be found at 6 Place des Vosges 75004 Paris.

My Solitary Self: Poem

My Solitary Self

I asked my solitary self, shy, splendid and sad
What to do wth the rest of my life;
My solitary self, debating with being and existing
And unravelling sundry strife.

My solitary self, aloof at times
Decided to ask my soul when and where
My brain and body could join in
And finally all griefs to share.

Wisdom, wherever it lies,
Perplexed by this intellectual discussion
Asked my solitary self to flee
All complicated abnegation.

So, alone with my solitary self,
Again I let my mind wander winsome and wild;
Slowly walking on mile after mile:
And then I saw my solitary self smile.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Stone Face in Niche in a Wall, Nevers

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Interesting angle to this face, cunningly hidden in a niche in a wall.

Sacred Was This Longing: Poem

Sacred Was This Longing

Sacred was this longing; like a flame
Whitehot and purified: flaring towards freedom
Nebulous but euphoric in a mad quest for liberty;
To rebel, to fight and even maybe lose
With that sacred faultline of losers the world over:
Cracks in the surface, waiting, waiting for a kinder destiny.
Sacred was this desire: wrapped in life's energy.

It was what enabled the city lights and country earth
To course in my life's blood. When I raised my head
To look at the stars they were attainable;
When I looked at the horizon it seemed so near
I had touched rockbottom but now I could fly alone
Touched, brushed, cleansed by

This sacred longing

Copyright: Rani Turton