I Who Have Walked So Long In The Shadows

I Who Have Walked So Long In The Shadows

I who have walked so long in the shadows
That the sun dazzled my eyes; dazzled my eyes
Until tears blinded them. Would it be better
To adapt to sunlight or to step back to in the shadows?
The shadows, from where a shadow I had almost become?

A shadow I had almost become, just a remnant.
A semblant. The soul looks for comfort where it can.
The mind tries to function and analyse
But the body, tired, tried and tried.

I who have walked so long in the shadows
Did not handle with skill life's questions.
There were moments when I was almost serene:
Just to live now, to be and to have been.


Copyright(text and image): Rani Turton

Doorhandle, France

There was time even when doorhandles were crafted with skill and imagination...

Birds In Flight: Poem

Birds In Flight

Often, birds in flight make me think
Of my soul and its plight: they make me think
Of life's anguish and then ponder
If life doesn't lie yonder

Yonder beyond the hills and sky
If when life, pulsing in life's veins
Is but a dream, an illusion
Birds in flight, dreams and delusion.

Now, in an instant, the beating of wings
Have faded; nothing remains.
No remnants, not even a song.
The beating of my heart goes on and on.

Copyright (text and image): Rani Turton

Darkness, My Beloved: Poem

Darkness, My Beloved


Watching the night approach with silent tread
Waiting to clasp his hand.
Waiting for that compassion
That pretends not to notice faults
Of stammering, stumbling, lisping or halts.

Darkness softens, hides, transmutes
Bases qualities into gold
Moonbeams dance on rooftops; it may be
Soon I those rays of light could hold.
But words enter unbidden into my mind

.
Like in a tranced love, this liason with you
This dark and unseemly pact I have,
When I can leave all my errors behind.


Did you know that you, the dark,
This warm enveloping darkness, my beloved
Is what I wait for everyday?
Soft lamps, verse, the murmurs and
Rituals that only the sombre can understand;
Now draw the curtain, and hasten:
Come, my beloved, hold my hand.

Copyright (Image and text): Rani Turton

Amazing Doorhandle, France

The intricate work French metal workers are capable of is mind-boggling. A load of details, and total refinement.

Rain, Streaming Down

Rain, Streaming Down

Rain-slick roads, black and gleaming
Drops on the windowpanes, streaming
It seems even the sky is weeping
Even the sky is burdened by tears

I am alone, encircled by my fears.

The rain keeps dripping down
Like tears falling softly onto this suburban town
Huge big gigantic tearsdrops on earth's cheeks

But where will the poor sleep tonight?

Copyright: Rani Turton

Man Leaning Against A Tree, Delhi: Photograph

An ordinary road in Delhi, an ordinary man. The light, the wall, the telephone in the man's hand constitute the subject of this photograph. A story in the making.

Detail Of Wall Mural, Delhi

This is a detail from the wall mural outside the Cental Cottage
Industries Emporium, New Delhi.

I Have Managed, So Far: Poem

I Have Managed, So Far

But it was much more than a summer's song on
A winter's day; more than a whisper into a brick wall:
A long, winding road, a road where even frozen
Winter birds wouldn't call.

I have managed the silences, the tears,
The questions on existence, and then
All that went into the mind when thoughts
Stilled; when paused the pen.

I waited so long, the dreams were so strong.
Life's episodes taunted me:
I have managed so far, so long, so far
I have won my life but lost the key.

Copyright: Rani Turton