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Best Poems From
RANI TURTON
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1.
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Solitude, Singing
Being alone is knowing
That in in this solitary splendour
Solitude, stark and staring,
Solitude, singing a lullaby
Solitude, singing a dirge
Surrounded by so many sundry things;
Things seen and unseen
Factors known and unknown
Solitude singing softly, chanting without ranting
Solitudes songs that sing of solemn things
Silence singing golden songs
Silence healing ancient wrongs
If only silence could be
More than a memory
More than history
Silence can be more than words
Empty words echoing in an empty world
Echoing in empty valleys
Silence unspoken, unspoken, unbroken
Transfixed by time.
Rani Turton
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2.
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A Wooden Door, A Metal Key
A plain wooden door, nerve-ridden
A carved metal key, in my pocket hidden.
And secrets that lie behind that blank facade
A building, some windows, my dreams.
I wandered on those blind Parisian streets.
Nobody knew my name
Nobody knew where I came from
I was different, yet still the same.
A wooden door like corpus callosum
Holds my two worlds together
I enter now, I walk out at midnight I flee
The buzzing and the hum.
Rani Turton
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3.
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Remembering
Remonstrating against all memories and desires
Is the modern way; arrogant freedom beckons unless the body,
Unappeased by what should be done wants to follow another way
The body has its own burning hunger and it is not what all imagine
The body has its own destiny and desire and sway.
When pain and fever rack the physical sphere
When the brain follows its logic and the body its desire
And the spirit yearns for a fulfilling sun
Tell the body what should be done?
Reason and rationality are the lodestones of existence
And reason dictates our every sphere
But when reason flees, and leaves only illogicality behind
What 's to be done? Follow another sun?
The body has its identity and that is a personality
That walks and speaks with reasoning ease
Alas when that identity walks away and the personality flees
Is that the beginning of mortal disease?
Copyright 2008 Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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4.
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The Night, Glorious, Unbending
The night, glorious, unbending,
Takes and gives nothing away
The night, silent, refuses the alms offered by day
Day, loquacious, has questions and answers
But the night doesn't even ponder
Looks far ahead, yonder
Night silently turns away.
Day is curious about these silences
That stretch into infinity: silences that stretch
Until the pale dawn arises
Silences that from ages past and ages to come
Are the very inscrutable embodiment
Of what the night has become.
Rani Turton
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