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Best Poems From
RANI TURTON
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141.
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Silences
I didn't know how to reply
When you said, You are more to me
Than all this;
I don't know why
My first thought was to lie
But do you know
I just wanted to lay down my head and cry.
The sun slanted through the windowpane
I looked at those hands sensitive and fine
I looked at everything
Pictures on the wall
So that the words wouldn't touch me at all
There are silences as thick as glassdoors
Transparent but solid
But when broken, can cause immense pain
So at four in the afternoon that day
I simply went away
Rani Turton
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142.
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Sins, Like Shadows: The Cycle Of Life
Shadows, like sins, cast low on the ground.
The cycle of life carries on. Some of the good lingers on
In unsuspected ways. The family is a tribe
With it's own codes. Some of the shadows linger on.
The wisdom to sow, reap and differeniate between the real
The surreal, the ego, the egoistical is not given to all.
Everyone carries their own burden.
Some do their best to realise
Their lives by fighting for their dreams;
And some, try to understand and analyse.
Day after day, the hours tick on and it seems
Shadows lengthen with the noon
Mystic, melancholy, heavy with tears
Shadows that follow and merge
The body, substantial and the shadow, ethereal
And even more so by the light of the moon.
If life is a shadow that passes like a dream
Are we what we are and do we seem to be what we seem?
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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143.
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Smoke, Mist and Nebulous Things
Tell me then your perceptions of the past
Tell me why hard facts are hard today
Facts tomorrow, then gone away
Do facts, then, rarely last?
Watching the march of time, the artefacts
The ruins they continue to dig up day by day
What remains of those wonderful beings
Who peopled our fables and myths
Smoke, mist and other nebulous things
Spirited them away
Tiptoe in historys corridors
Crowns, coins and chariots
People, peasants, and simple folk
Just spirited clean away
Where do they lie now?
Unknowns jostling in historys corridors.
Queens, courtesans, mothers of kings
Toys and things, necklaces and dreams
Smoke, mist and other nebulous things
Spirited them away
Tiptoe in historys corridors
The modified history of the world
Domination, nomination, abomination
Smoke and mist and nebulous things
Have spirited everyone away.
Rani Turton
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144.
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So Acute Was My Loneliness
Cobbled stones, not dust.
So acute was my loneliness that dream I must.
Escapism was a flight from dreary realism.
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If roam I must, if chains I must break
Alone, in this pebble-strewn destiny
My happiness I must fake.
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So acute was my loneliness that home was far
Too far; too far and distant my loved ones and my thoughts
That in that black cosmic wilderness even the North Star
Seemed close enough to touch. That even my words
Seemed transparent and tinted with Orientalism
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So distant and cold, so empty my worlds.
So acute was my loneliness even the poems would not come
The words fled, the streets wet, a spectre I had become
My memories tinged with the bitter things I had done.
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All alone. When dawns touched my lids after fitful sleep
I had resolved never, never to weep
However deep the pain. However acute the pain
The sun would shine tomorrow and I would become myself again.
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Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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