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Best Poems From
RANI TURTON
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49.
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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
Rani Turton
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50.
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A Lyrical Fantasy
I wrote this poem for you; just a lyrical fantasy.
Just some words that found their way onto a page.
Unasked for, unbidden
But not yet forbidden.
When the sun rose, I would ponder.
The sun set, yonder.
Night itself was a lone delight
A wilderness in which to write.
Then I asked my heart what it wanted to say:
It spoke softly, it did not want to betray.
I asked my soul and it had flown far away,
Far away; I thought of my beloved
And the words came; I, wont to reflection
Did not have to pause and think.
My soul, like a deer at a wild pond, did from love drink.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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51.
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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
Rani Turton
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52.
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Analysing That Pain
Like a soft breeze that, barely there, sifts the papers on my table.
A window, open, and the curtains move gently.
A memory, that should not have been there.
An emotion that barely acknowledged should have known better.
Some serious men dissected my emotions.
An existence that, in existing, forgot to be.
A faraway pain, like a bird, alights on my hand,
Some ice on distant mountains settles in my heart.
All my experiences could not help me to understand
Why pain has be analysed, why the soul in crisis
Has to dissect, react and realise.
Pain is more than a commodity
More than a substance that can be caged
Artists and poets have used it in its intensity
And often, often sunk under the weight of its density.
I am one with this emotion.
It has become a part of this whole.
Remove it now and then I fear
That it will leave a painful, abyssmal hole.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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