He's Older Now: Poem

He's Older Now

He's older now, his hair touched with grey;
I wander in these old streets everyday,
Memory-laden; I wonder who and why
Whomsoever deemed life should
Absolutely turn out this way.

He's older now; I hope and pray
He finally has found his destiny and his way;
Never like the others, never convention-prone,
His voice, like velvet caresses touched my senses
Knocked down all my fragile defenses


His thick dark hair, flying in the breeze
Seemed only to tease;
And when his eyes --
Ah! his eyes touched my skin
Smouldering fires burned within

He's older now, or so it seems
Wiser now, this  piece of my dreams;
Oft did I wonder if I should let him, once again
With sensitive fingers rekindle
This longing,  passionate regret.


Copyright: Rani Turton

None, Nowhere, Nothing: Poem

None, Nothing, Nowhere

None, nowhere, nothing
Can make me forget except
Complete extinction;
None, nowhere, nothing
Can make my heart sing,
My body's blood flow
In complete adequation
With beliefs, trust, life itself.

I scribbled a few lines today
For you, who read, and who holds my soul
And all it contains; and who may one day realise
That this verse was quite simply love in disguise.

Copyright (text and image): Rani Turton

Everyday, While We May: Poem

Everyday, While We May

To watch the trailing rose on stone walls
Dew on flowers, a resting bird on tree
To listen to the wind, feel the rain,
Everyday, while we may

The sun with it's golden beams
Warms the flesh yet alive
Stars that glisten and shine
Bread, that the soul may dine;
While we may.

While we may, blood and bone
Skin, touch, tears and pain;
Remind us that each and every cell
Lives, and then hears the knell.

Copyright: Rani Turton

This Emptiness Within: Poem

This Emptiness Within

This emptiness within, an utter stillness that could,
Would, should remain transfixed by eternity

Not a sunyatian stillness not the perfect void
A void, no, rather devoid
Not a perfect vacumn not even the space
To fill up a space that

Silences and stillness from analysis
Springs nought; not the naught but the knot
And the stillness and the silence in empty hearts
As far from perfection as existence
As far from existence as perfection
From where perfection springs
From the depth of the naughts

This emptiness within, then as still
As far from perfection's existence
As from perfecting existence

Transcends and permeates the fickle uneasy mind
Leaving mind and thought and emotion far, far behind.


Copyright 2008 Rani Turton

Consolation, In Doubt: Poem

CONSOLATION,  IN DOUBT   Consolation, in doubt Is all I want; all I want when I ask For reassurance today.   Apt are the times; the times are apt. In intense solitude The light shines.   The road is lit by lamps The moon has a halo The mind quietly ponders.   Consolation, in doubt, Comes when least expected. And then solitude smiles.   Copyright: Rani Turton

Alas Alone Am I : Poem

ALAS ALONE AM I . As despair weaves a cocoon around my shadow Alas, alone am I with my despair. I had waited for these clouds to lift I had prayed For these storms to cease These deities I had tried to appease . By various diverse means; the day remained grey The clouds did not move away. . Alas alone am I, and I tired, of constant Conflictual battle; I do not have the necessary Tools to open up wisdom's door; Do not have the fierce strength to do that anymore. . There are cobwebs in my nightmares, The night is peopled by strange shades; Alas, alone am I, almost merging with the shadows . Dawn will come, I will walk in thy meadows. . Copyright: Rani Turton

Every Once In A While: Poem

EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE . All you need to know at this precise moment All you need to know is that every once in a while Life stands still, like moments before a summer storm . All you need to know, is that precisely The rage and the elements have abated now No questions asked and none to reply . That life is a melody that at times breaks Off; that love is a passion that stop and begins Bridges have to be spanned . That you come to me with love in your eyes And I will one day reply; that you hold my hand And life stands still every once in a while. . Copyright: Rani Turton

Poets In Their Melancholy: Poem

Poets In Their Melancholy

Poets, with troubled lives and secret thoughts
Have often stood and looked this way
And in this half light, strong and secret
What they thought, nobody can say

As dusk fell, and windows would close
Some words from soft songs would drift in
And take root in the present; some lines
Would nestle in a stranger's heart and brain.

Poets, lost in their melancholy
Lost in the muddle of their lives
Weave verse and rhyme: and thus it is
That their work their lives suvives.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Whispers Into The Brick Wall: Poem

WHISPERS INTO THE BRICK WALL


Who else will listen silently while I speak of my love for you
Who else will stand still while I whisper my secrets
Those deep, hidden secrets buried in my heart
Except this rough, brick wall
Standing so tough and so tall
While I whisper all I have to say;
Nobody would remain as stoic and immobile.
No, nobody could or would. I ,myself
Knowing myself so well, can hardly believe all
That I pour out into this ready wall’s ear
I , myself, can hardly listen to my own words
Speaking out my barely avowed hesitations
And uncommitted love’s crimes; I , myself softly touch
This rugged wall and it’s surface
As though it is the skin of my loved one’s face.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Whenever My Soul, Like A Shrunken Dream: Poem

Whenever, My Soul Like A Shrunken Dream


Whenever, my soul like a shrunken dream
Wonders and waits with wasted breath
Destiny beckons on but the road is long
And at the end lies only, only death


Now and then a diamond in the dust
Sparkles with quiet passion
Blossoms colour my dreams
Life is far from all it seems


Paltry rhymes, simple songs, hasty verses
Coming from God knows where
And going on to rocky streams and a pebbled shore
Surely living meant far, far more.


Far away, waves crash in the misty cold
A flagging swimmer, a hallucinating teenager
A tired woman wait for their lives to unfold.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Blazing Suns Once Burnt Me: Poem

BLAZING SUNS ONCE BLACKENED ME

Blazing suns once blackened me
My soul was bright
I watched the moon dancing
With the clouds at night

Cold winter wind bleached me
That was my misery
My soul became dark
A sad lonely destiny

I whispered and moaned
My life seemed thus sealed
My mind fled thither
Into wounds never healed

Copyright: Rani Turton

This Week, Empty Benches Beckon

This Week, Empty Benches Beckon

This week, empty benches beckon
Speak to me of betrayal
Some trust that turned astray
Some feelings that walked away.

And thus comes the day
Of facing problems and solutions:
Of waiting it out and wanting
It all; of wanting it all.

I am the remnant of my dreams and aspirations.
I asked, received and fought.

There are weeks when empty benches beckon,
Beckon to trust gone astray.


Copyright: Rani Turton

A Clock, A Street, A Tower: Poem

A CLOCK, A STREET, A TOWER

There is a clock on a city street
These pavings that have often known my feet
There is a clock, a street and a tower
That is the mystery of love's power.

That stones alone can intense emotion retain
That you can walk forlorn in the pouring rain
That, whatever may happen, years ahead
For me these streets will never, never be dead.

The pain in my heart stops me now:
My faltering steps even begin to slow;
The mist from these mountains stings;
Memories, moments, melancholy and things.

Now behold the time for resolutions
Time can often bring its own solutions;
How do I walk away when familiar voices call
Me back; let me sit on that stone bench and recall.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Talking To Nobody: Poem

TALKING TO NOBODY

When the sun dips and bows goodbye
I, at the window, watching the cityscape,
Admiring the dusk
Talking to nobody.

A cosmic dance, unpatented
Patiently the sun prepares its solitary revolution
Or so it seems: the sun, the window and I
Talking to nobody.

Footsteps down below
The fundamental alliance between
The sun, the lonely one and I
Is that we excel, at this exquisite art of talking to

Nobody.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Fragile Hearts: Poem

FRAGILE HEARTS

Fragile hearts, hearts that break
Do not harsh words and ruptures take

Fragile hearts that trust and beat
Trodden under uncaring feet

Hearts, like roses in the rain,
Scatter under the onslaught of pain.

Copyright: Rani Turton

The Days are So Long, My Love

The Days Are So Long, My Love

The days are so long, my love. One has to wander from sunrise to sunset
And then comes the night.

Then comes the night: the hardest part of the day
The hours when the soul flies away.

To another realm: to wander and reflect
When the body tries to unifie the schism;

To leap over the chasm that divides
This world from the next and thus

Dawn to dawn, sunrise to sunrise
I mystify by moonlight

Some lines scrawled themselves onto
Crumpled white pages.

Some tears from tired eyes, there are methods
To comfort the tired body and mind

But not the anguished soul.
The days are so long, so long, my love.

Copyright: Rani Turton

I Spoke To Liberty: Poem

I SPOKE TO LIBERTY

I spoke to liberty and liberty spoke to me
Asking softly, 'Do you really want to be free? '

I murmured to melancholy and melancholy said
' Why do all these thoughts go through your head? '

I asked for grace and grace touched my life
Saying, 'Quiet for now. Forget all your strife.'

Then I walked on alone. Touched to the bone.
The anger and the pain, washed by the rain
Dissolved as I wept.

Then, fortunately I slept.

I spoke to liberty and liberty spoke to me
Asking softly, 'Do you really want to be free? '

Copyright: Rani Turton

Sometimes When I Forget: Poem

Sometimes When I Forget

Sometimes when I forget
Where I am, where I will be tomorrow
Blessed memory can take me on it's wings far, far away.

When the pain gets too much
Pass my finger across the strings
The wooden body hums, the wooden body needs that much.

The flesh is weak but the mind,
Permits some delusions
The time for illusions has gone.

Sometimes when I forget
Where I am, where I began
Where and I am and what I've become
Insomuch
Where I can be in the long years to come.

Copyright: Rani Turton

A Mad Bird Was I: Poem

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A Mad Bird Was I

I walked down that lonely road
That sinuous, torturous bend
You know how I hated
The cold, the distance, my thoughts.

My thoughts flew back and forth
Like a mad bird blinded by the light
I was lost; I was lonely; I was in pain
A mad bird was I.

There was no way out of this blundering
Floundering directionless path to nowhere.
There was no way out and the how and the whys
Were the least of it all.

I was like that mad bird in full, haphazard flight.
 
Copyright: Rani Turton

A Clock, A Street, A Tower: Poem

A Clock, A Street, A Tower

There is a clock on a city street
These pavings that have often known my feet
There is a clock, a street and a tower
That is the mystery of love's power.

That stones alone can intense emotion retain
That you can walk forlorn in the pouring rain
That, whatever may happen, years ahead
For me these streets will never, never be dead.

The pain in my heart stops me now:
My faltering steps even begin to slow;
The mist from these mountains stings;
Memories, moments, melancholy and things.

Now behold the time for resolutions
Time can often bring its own solutions;
How do I walk away when familiar voices call
Me back; let me sit on that stone bench and recall.

Copyright: Rani Turton

This Point In Time: Poem

THIS POINT IN TIME

Then come to me with the breeze ruffling your hair
The setting sun in your eyes
The same blue as the sea and the skies

Then the whisper of your presence will tell me
You are not far
Strange thoughts will come to mind

That the sea is smooth tonight
That the harbour is full of light
That the cafés overlook the piers
That the rain will fall softly on already wet cheeks
And gentle waves slurp into the creeks

That waiting here is a fallacy
That I should be somewhere else at this point in time
That I should be somewhere else at this point in time.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Ideas, Ideals and Delusions: Poem

Ideas, Ideals And Delusions

I have some notions of nothingness
I have some ideals of illusions
Into the abyss then with these thoughts
My ideas, ideals and delusions.

I can sweep away those cob-webbed dreams
Wipe clean every troublesome image
But nothing, nothing ever again
Can help me really turn the page

There are persistant and resistant matters
That will come back like a boomerang
Like a half-latched door in a tempest
That will continue to maddeningly bang

Away then and into the vast starry night
I will somehow continue to live;
My ideals of illusions, my dreams of delusions
Can also help to make me survive.
 
Copyright: Rani Turton

Artisan Of Words: Poem

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 

The Poet As In Exile: Poem

The Poet As In Exile

The mind moves, the way hands do
To touch a beloved's face;  to feel within
The soul, the thoughts, the skin.

The mind, sometimes heavy, lacks the shine
Of the freshly polished vase
The mind, saddened by its exile
Tries to leave the poet behind.

The mental, the metal,the marital, the martial
Worlds seem to be in fusion;
And then ultimately comes
The anguish, the joy or the confusion.

Footsteps around the world;
Standing over the Seine
Clouds in the water, and nothing
To guide me even then.

Like any other poet in exile
Destiny seemed knotted like a rug
Persian-perfect and that thought,
That absurdity  finally made me smile.

Copyright: Rani Turton

The Teacher Of All I Know: Poem

THE TEACHER OF ALL I KNOW

Here alone with all I profess
A faith, a belief in some systems of thought
Professors and priests, mystics and bards
All were often one I confess.

There were some unlettered men
Who knew more than the savants, then
There were bards who could sing and swear
And find their way to your heart there.

There were wild poppies dancing
Wild horses prancing
The teacher of all I know
Came for a few seasons
Then went for his own benighted reasons.

There was life’s blood and show
The poetry and pain and pageantry's stream
Whirled around in a fevered dream
Life was what it did not seem
Thus taught the teacher of all I know.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Beloved: Poem

BELOVED

I heard about you long before I saw your face;
I heard about your family, exploits, travel
They even said you played soft chords
On your guitar on moonless nights

Invited to your home, I expected to see
Someone extraordinary

I saw your hands first drawing aside the curtains
I saw your eyes then looking at me in silence
I saw your smile then and my poems became reality
We spoke about cities, countries, humanity

Beloved, don't share these moments with somebody else
Beloved, be gentle with my life
Beloved, leave me these instants of grace
And one day please let me touch your face
And say to you: Beloved.
 
Copyright: Rani Turton

Last Night I Dreamt, I Dreamt

LAST NIGHT I DREAMT, I DREAMT

In those familiar corridors I saw you in your room
I saw your head bent over papers
When you raised your head and saw me
I dreamt I dreamt I saw
Those oft longed for smiles
You got up with that characteristic quick movement
You had worn that blue shirt I knew so well
You stood at the doorway smiling and said
Well, I thought you would never come back

I thought that it was a dream that I had wanted to dream
Then I realized it was a dream and that I had wanted to dream
That I had dreamt of being a protagonist in it
That in dreams I still have you
Real life took you away

Last night I dreamt, I dreamt
Of today, yesterday and eternity in your eyes

Copyright: Rani Turton

My Mind, in Blinding Light: Poem

MY MIND, IN BLINDING LIGHT

Waits, waits, in a silence that is as heavy as pearls.

Waits for the lines and lanes of destiny to redefine
And refine; when the refined mind
Silently doubles and doubletalks itself out of rational thought;
Waits for the light to go, to disperse itself after the dark;
When the eyes can refocus and see
The difference between can and would be.

And destiny weaves her loom,
By blinding light or darkest gloom.

Copyright: Rani Turton

My Mind Has A Mind: Poem

My Mind Has A Mind

A calm surface: a world within a world.
My mind, at times, turbulent, savage and contrary
Just at the sound of a simple word
Gallops like wild horses across the prairie.

Oft I longed for calm; for a magic balm
To protect me from various kinds of harm;
Oft I yearned for tenderness:
Life was a game of dice or chess.

Moved from space to space.
Tumbling and wasn't it humbling
Trying to find a minute space
In my mind's mind's universal place?

My mind told my mind
Don't leave me alone;
Life is long and my destiny unsigned;
My mind with my mind, then intertwined.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Tears, I Told You To Go Away

Tears, I Told You To Go Away

I told you, tears, to go away
Not to remain so close to me everyday
To tell the trees and rocks who knew me
That I was as far away as eternity.

My tears were just rivulets of pain
A passion that need to fall like rain;
I could not speak out what I thought:
I could not seek out whom I sought.

My cheeks were wet as on a rainy day
But the sky cloudless, remained dry;
Tears, I told you to please go away
My ineluctable destiny is here to stay.

Copyright: Rani Turton