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Best Poems From
RANI TURTON
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197.
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Through Those Lanes, Lost, I Wander
The night resembles the day: endless and refractive.
I wander, in dyslexic mode, unable to formulate
One thought into another. I have left
Analytic reasoning far, far behind. Emotions
That ebb and flow like the tide.
Through those lanes, lost, I wander.
Is it this land that is foreign or is it I?
Is it me the stranger, weary and shy?
I have tried to reason, but now there are no reason
Even to wonder why.
Throught those lanes, lost, I wander.
Was I the substance or the shadow, or was it
Just reality that eluded clouded reason? ?
I wander, wander, and now as time
Walks by my side
Shadows lengthen; and through those lanes
Life, love, pain and all that remains.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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198.
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To Wait Another Day
In darkest night, my soul, anguished by its plight
Tried, tried to soar free, but tied to soil
Came rushing back, to wait another day.
Day after day like soft petals that circle a flower
Like stories told at night to children
Like comets that circle a sun
Night becomes day and seasons change.
Days go by: And life
May end when it has scarcely begun.
Thinking about ambitions and dreams
Has long ceased; the sound of children at play
Will remain with me as long as it may.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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199.
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Today I Felt Like Sylvia Plath - II
A sharp sadness, diffused at twilight,
Haloed my head; The grief could not be driven away.
And even if it went, I bereft,
Would remain grieving. I would think all day
The night was a penetenciary
A gate I couldn't pass.
So often wondering which path to take
Sometimes the pain of living on frugal emotion
Would categorically just drive me mad
I wanted to see the emotion I poured into people's lives
Come pouring into mine fom a stranger's eyes,
I wanted the softness of the silk I wore
To protect me from the cynicism and sarcasm
Every kind of chasm;
And blazing emotion to come in and drive
The demons from my soul
God, on what frugal emotion I dined!
Sometimes at twilight I just sat down and cried
Like Sylvia Plath I almost died.
Today I felt like Sylvia Plath
Chasing the nimbus on a saint's head.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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200.
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Today, As Always
Today, as always and as often before
Dreading the light that falls on my face
The fingers that fumble and won't find
Yesterday, today and tonight.
Worse than the morrow
Is the memory of sorrow
To know at the end of each day
That emotion has flown away.
O desultory rhyme. Time after time
I tried, the paradox of living and forgiving
I can try each day. Each morning the sun
Will rise, will slide, will set
Morning and mourning. The surprise
The yearning, the knowing
Today, as always at sunrise.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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