Blurred: Poem

BLURRED

 

Nothing is impossible: everything is possible.
Affirmation and confirmation, conforming to
The positive attitude as signified in books.

But then why is this world blurred, why do drops sting my cheeks?
I saw…I saw a bird plummeting down from the sky
I saw a child with scars, an old man cry
I was every woman who could not because she had nowhere to go;
I was the child, woman and man
That is when this blurred world began.

If Siddharth, the son of a king asked why
Why should I, I, find the reply?

The train that missed the track;
The limbless man, the teenager in limbo
The rage and the desperation in tenement homes
Though home still; the slums and drugs
And the black alleys at night
The jobless, the mobs, those who were deaf to pleas
No more, no more pain please.

Now in my mind I thought I could see
Evidence of misery and insanity
But this blurred world, part of my own personal pain
Is also full of guilt and vanity.
Thus I spin out my emotions in reams of verse
Alone in my own little corner of the universe.
This world seems blurred;
But then, thus so is the world.
 
Copyright: Rani Turton

Invalides, Paris

This Parisian landmark includes both the Army Museum and Napolean's tomb.

Every Woman Everywhere: Poem

Every Woman Everywhere
If only every woman at the well
Could have her pitcher filled; her needs fulfilled
The right to follow her own dream

If only could every woman who cried
Hot tears of guilt, submission or pain
Could be met with compassion

Fears of work in wild cities,
Fears, fears, tears.
Where do you go when you're alone?

Some do destiny follow
Some do lies swallow;
An idea that abandoning roles can
Change destiny since time began.

But do you want to die alone?
Do you want to survive or plead?
What paths do you want to tread?
Why do you urge other women to follow
All the lies you had to swallow?
Village women, city women
Fears, fears, tears.

Some ideas of education and roots
Like a bamboo and it's shoots;
You hear the same discourse.
It is your own idea where your freedom lies.

Freedom from hunger, freedom from strife
Does the city then have any pity?
For one, hunger because the crops have failed
And for the other, wageless, hunger
For the rents have to be paid

Pretty princess or simple maid
Every woman, everywhere.

Copyright: Rani Turton

At Sunset, Today: Poem

At Sunset, Today

At sunset, today when the sky turns red
When clouds, try to veil the sky; when birds nest
And are too tired to fly

When workers, tired, straggle back home
And school has closed for the day
And in houses the curtains are drawn

When lights spring into life
And the spirit, tranquil, reflects
On the events of the day

At sunset, today, when the sky turns red
Father, grant everyone his daily bread.

Copyright: Rani Turton