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Best Poems From
RANI TURTON
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77.
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The Syndrome of the Empty Plate
Throughout this wide world, a common foe.
The empty day, painful nights.
How many families have slept night after night
After dining face to face with an empty plate?
Children crying, helpless mothers
Waiting for destiny to become kinder
The fear, the abjection, the dream
Not to desire, not to die.
Body aching, bones that cannot move,
Tired out, cannot.
Lacklustre paths, wrong and right
Fades into indifference. Whenever differences arise
Between people from here or there,
Colours and customs, languages and arts
There is no differences between the syndrome
And the symptoms
And the fear and the pain that wait
Of the achingly empty plate.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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78.
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The Vase Fell On The Floor
The vase fell on the floor
Now that vase doesnt exist any more
Shattered and smattered
Pieces of baked clay that once come from earth
Dust it becomes and after taking birth
Dust it returns to soon enough
The body is the vessel, the vase;
Life the transient uncanny phase
Dust we came from, albeit from the dust of the stars
From Mercury, Venus, even from Mars
We hold the secret and in our tombs
The secret is that dust is just sleeping wombs.
Rani Turton
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79.
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There Was That Then
There was that then
There is this now;
Then, the sun-heated tiles
And now, now the snow.
There were fat shady trees then
But that was then
And now the years have slipped away
The trees are now tall and thin.
Now I see the seasons pass
Spring, summer, winter and fall
But long long ago
All that didn't matter at all.
The world turns slowly for some
And not fast enough for others
The stars, the sun, the moon
Are now my sisters and brothers.
Rani Turton
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80.
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This Burdened Heart
This burdened heart speaks low but clear
That today destinys lanes are not very clear;
That pain, like rain, can mist up the eyes
That clouds, like pain can block out the skies
That somewhere else my heart wants to go
There are dreams and all I had to forego
Burdening my heart: where lies happiness
If my mind lies elsewhere, oscillating and vacillating:
Restrained and constrained, layers within layers
Life is but a stage and we are the players
But also when total liberty beckons, perplexed
My soul is vanquished, there are no walls to demolish
No mountains to climb, no one to care;
Nobody to say, nobody at all
Not now, not like this, not this time
That somewhere in this century we are alone, bewildered,
Abandoned, that we are
Parts of burdened hearts, that lie lost, thrown aside
Neglected, dejected, rejected
That there are no signposts on the crumbling way.
This burdened heart stops and starts
Carries on, bump-a-lump; will not give up
Life is but a brimming cup.
Rani Turton
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