Artisan of Images And Words

I Have Managed, So Far: Poem

2012-01-05T13:35:00.001-08:00

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

Stone Face, France

2011-12-04T12:43:00.001-08:00

Full of character,this stern stone face gazes out in Strasbourg, France.

Street art, Evereux

2011-10-07T10:15:00.001-07:00

Bright turquoise for this depiction of street art on a wall in Evereux.

On Losing: Poem

2011-08-24T15:01:00.001-07:00

On Losing

Walking on the edge, walking, walking on the edge
It could have been now or never; now or forever.

On losing, or letting loose consequences
Often life's bitter sequences;

And then dawn would come.
Hope beckoned as alone

Hiding in an alcove dark and aloof
Rain splattering on the roof

Words fond their way to my soul:
Strummed, drummed and made me whole.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Moonlight: Poem

2011-08-03T10:11:00.001-07:00

Moonlight

There is a stillness in the night that, softly
Unfreezes the most frozen of hearts;
There is a glow about moonlight
Which can touch your face
And set it a-glow: like candlelight it lights
And highlights even the most humble place.

There is the sun in everyone
But the moon, like a loom
Works on the finest of stuff
In a silent shuttered room.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Woman's Face : Wooden sculpture at Vannes

2011-06-29T10:10:00.001-07:00

Interesting woman's face carved in wood, decorating a building at
Vannes in France.

This Burdened Heart: Poem

2011-06-12T13:43:00.000-07:00

This Burdened Heart

This burdened heart speaks low but clear
That today destiny’s 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, 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.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Grief: Poem

2011-06-01T10:07:00.001-07:00

GRIEF

Grief, don't stand near my bed tonight
I've had enough and more than I can bear
Last night was the worst: I could feel you
Watching me whilst silently standing there.

Now tell me, grief, are you friend or foe?
What is it about me that attracts you so?
Is it for my beauty, my wit or my fragility
That you stand there clothed in such simplicity?

You knew that yesterday was a hard day.
I had a certain difficult role to play;
Grief, as I suddenly felt you in my room
Ah! I actually felt the weight of your gloom.

Now I know that you are more than a presence;
I even think you sense my absence;
I almost think I'll wait for you tonight:
Grief, please do step into sight.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Artistic Gutterpipe, France

2011-04-11T07:39:00.001-07:00

Stylised end of gutterpipe in Dinan, France.

When Miracles Come: Poem

2011-04-05T00:39:00.001-07:00

When Miracles Come

When miracles come, pouring into my outstretched palms
Like gold coins long buried in the earth;
Like manna from heaven
Miracles will come and then I will become

Another person; transformation and affirmation
Written into sacred chants and texts; there are
Life-changing situations. Choices and voices
Telling one what to dread and where to tread.

Wait with bent head. Wait and figure out when
Transformation begins and ends and only then
Will pieces fall into place
And lend life a special kind of grace.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Seashell Art, France

2011-03-28T04:02:00.001-07:00

Cat composed of seashells on wall in picturesque area of Sables d'olonne, France.

If I Close My Eyes: Poem

2011-03-02T05:42:00.001-08:00

IF I CLOSE MY EYES

If I close my eyes, I can see you standing there
If I open them, you're gone.
Ah, mystery of imagination
The cold, waking dawn;
The heart that waits,
That fitfully longs, sighs, flutters
In varied emotional states.

Now that I know that it works that way
Let me close my eyes: let me believe
Utterly in phantasmagorical reason;
There is yet time enough to grieve.
When I wake; when I realise
That this fantasy was just a tissue of lies.

Copyright: Rani Turton

If I Should See You Again: Poem

2011-02-04T14:48:00.000-08:00

If I Should See You Again

If I should see you again
Across some busy Parisian street
If I should see your face as I've longed to
For years, for so many years
Will I just stand there stupidly
My face wet with tears?

But wait, there's more to come.
I'll probably just stand and watch
You walking swiftly from sight.
If I could have my freedom and words-
And I no longer want to be so weak:
Then I would probably find my courage and speak.

Copyright: Rani Turton

If You Have To Leave, Go Swiftly: Poem

2011-01-19T14:44:00.000-08:00

If You Have To Leave, Go Swiftly

If you have to leave go, go swiftly before I can summon
My voice to call you back; go swiftly before I can raise my hand
To stop you, to try to hold you back, to touch you
To reason with you and try to make you understand.

If you have to leave, ignore this stifling heart and this biting cold
If tears prick my eyes its because I never knew
How to say goodbye; its just because, just because
I was ignorant of love, loss and all their laws.

If you have to leave don't turn back for a last look
I wouldn't be able to bear that, no, not that;
I would remember the warmth of your embrace
That place near your heart, my own treasured place.

Go now and be done: You have to go your way;
Leave me to my thoughts, to think and pray
Leave me to this cold wintry life alone, to wait
Until my life's choices mingle with my personal fate.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Pretend, Just Pretend: Poem

2011-01-16T08:37:00.000-08:00

Pretend, Just Pretend

As I write these lines, simple words that
Tear at my heart; pour from my heart
As they say what I cannot say: as they speak
The unimaginable, the words I left aside
For another day

Pretend, just pretend that I am,
That I am the one you love
Here before you, here at last
Waiting, for the words I want to hear
Words for which I hadn't asked;
Words that wound and sear

I am this moment. I am the thought.
I am the emotion, but alas, not thine.
I, who belong to nobody, am yours
And yours even to decline.

I am the light and the strength
I am love and its divine essence
Prtend, just prtend foe an instant that I am
The person who has your acquiescence.

There is a truth to be found in your eyes
Ah, in your eyes, so evident;
You look at me clearly; you are unaware
That, for so many summers now
You hold me in love's tricky snare.
You hold me in an emotion I can hardly bear

The quest for truth lent an edge to my rhetoric
I , in my wanderings, left intellect behind;
Reason and arument did not wisdom bestow;
My heart spoke to me, and with my soul I had
Much to discuss; much to question: but
The rain did fall and fall and the wind blow.

There were hours of contemplation
Wondering where to go and when;
You will know when I come to you
In all simplicity, no questions to ask
And no replies to give;
Pretend, just pretend you love me
For a moment, a day, for eternity.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Sometimes When I Forget: Poem

2010-12-29T14:26:00.000-08:00

SOMETIMES WHEN I FORGET

Sometimes when I forget
Where I am, where I will be tomorrow
Blessed memory can take me on it's wings far, far away.

When the pain gets too much
Pass my finger across the strings
The wooden body hums, the wooden body needs that much.

The flesh is weak but the mind,
Permits some delusions
The time for illusions has gone.

Sometimes when I forget
Where I am, where I began
Where I am and what I've become:
Insomuch
Where I can be in the long years to come.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Cry Now, Relentless Fire: Poem

2010-12-27T14:01:00.000-08:00

Cry Now, Relentless Fire

Ease the pain, now, coursing,
Furious, raging fire
Someone whom, just by silent touch
Can say so much

There were rivers of embers
Coursing in my veins; cry now,
Divine, relentless fire
Sleep will come with the dawn
Immemorable fire, but no, not desire
For this life or another
No pangs for immortality

Ease the pain, while the planets spin
The world, upside down, slanting
Speaks to me through
Slivers, shivers, rivers
Of corporal fire; my brain
Has no more space in which to think

I am this moment, sage and mage
I am the fire, the image
And then comes the pain, again
Coursing in my veins; cry now,

Divine, relentless fire

Copyright: Rani Turton

Spires That Touch The Sky: Poem

2010-11-27T14:43:00.001-08:00

SPIRES THAT TOUCH THE SKY

Spires that touch the sky; the city and I.

Cities that dream near water's shore.
Watching people as they run for more.

The utter solitude of a single mind
As it struggles to grasp and rewind
To make sense of reason and season.
Ah! but in the stone of the spires
Lie more than codes and electric wires.

Once I thought I could see
Glimmers of a kind of insanity.
Meaning and seeming transformed by dreaming.
The spires replied to me:
But that is another kind of identity.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Secrets, Murmured When Alone: Poem

2010-11-18T10:05:00.000-08:00

SECRETS, MURMURED WHEN ALONE
.

When alone, and matters come to mind

Secrets that I alone could understand

Secrets placed somewhere to the left centre

Of my soul, beating softly, beating like a drum
.

Tapping out words I thought I could forget

So I whisper them to the sky
.

And thus to the branches of an old tree

That must be wondering why
.

Secrets that I alone could understand

Should be murmured to the stone, when alone.
.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Squirrel and Feather: Photograph

2010-11-15T03:09:00.000-08:00

What! A feather almost as big as me!

One Day A Cloud Will Find Me : Poem

2010-10-25T07:25:00.001-07:00

One Day A Cloud Will Find Me

One day a cloud will find me, high,high up in the sky
Warmed by sun's warm flame; or even sweep down
In draping, billowing wonder; all that I will see
Is misty melancholy delight

Yes, misty melancholy delight: to be one with the sky
The moon, the sun. To feel the touch of cosmic fingers
On my silent cheek. To go beyond the limits of
My own cerebral boundaries, to feel and breathe

This misty melancholy delight. The mountain can whisper
And the plains explain. The rivers flow on, and ever on;
My breath mingles with this mystic cloud that, majestic and serene
Smiles down at me, certain of direction, route and course.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Shadow Of A Tree On A Cracked Wall: Photograph

2010-10-04T05:43:00.000-07:00

The shadow of this tree with it's well-defined leaves on an old, cracked wall leave an impression of sun and shade that is impressionable.

Existence, Brief And Flickering: Poem

2010-09-21T05:51:00.000-07:00

EXISTENCE, BRIEF AND FLICKERING

Existence, brief and flickering, almost done
Almost similar to many lives, but not quite
Almost done, and then undone; as random
As oceanwaves, that subject to the currents
And to the moon's powerful love;
Yes, to the laws above.
.
Life moves on, second after second
Until the minutes and hours are done.
The years stretch backwards as far away
As the distant, burning sun.

Now there are moments of truth
And many moments of despair; and then
Grace comes, love happens
Whenever, whatever, carpe diem.

Cannot, cannot put back the hands of a clock;
There is no going back to another world.
Transitory footprints, existence, brief and flickering
Angst, euphoria, patience, the written word.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Unto The End Of Mortality: Poem

2010-09-05T08:42:00.000-07:00

UNTIL THE END OF MORTALITY

I will tread on meandering paths, often weary;
I will stop and gaze at the sun as it rises.
I will watch a tree's leaves rustle in the breeze
Rest my body, so tired, when I please

I will wander in that old city's lanes
Pass crumbling mansions , craftsmen at work;
I will recall youth's joys and troubled sorrows
Even as I write in fragrant ink these lines;

I remember snatches of melody;
I remember the poetry of long ago.
Defenceness, under the end of mortality
I will witness my own nostalgic pain.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Clouds That Come And Go: Poem

2010-07-28T02:00:00.000-07:00

Clouds That Come And Go

Clouds that come and go
Untold divine missions do
They carry out, without pause or falter
They our fates can certainly alter.

Clouds that gather up above
Do they ever wonder?
What do scurrying mortals matter?
When the heavens shatter?

Now and then clouds do go
Far above to hot unknown lands
The wonder, the surprise, the unabated joy
When they reply to uplifted hands.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Tower, Flag, Lamppost: Photograph

2010-07-08T14:53:00.000-07:00

The Eiffel Tower, the French flag and a lamppost in Paris, France.

Blurred: Poem

2010-06-23T06:55:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

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

Every Woman Everywhere: Poem

2010-06-10T09:07:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-01T14:32:00.000-07:00

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

I Left My Heart Somewhere: Poem

2010-05-07T13:01:00.000-07:00

I Left My Heart Somewhere

I left my heart somwhere.
I searched for it night, and day.

I waited for the Unknown.
Just to take me far, far away.

There were moments of intense solitude.
Where, where did my heart stray?

I left my soul somewhere.
On dusty tracks it did stray.

I looked for it everywhere.
My mind remained blank and bare.

Then my body sad, said softly
I need the others to remain alive.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Fragile Hearts: Poem

2010-04-16T04:00:00.000-07:00

FRAGILE HEARTS

Fragile hearts, hearts that break
Do not harsh words and ruptures take

Fragile hearts that trust and beat
Trodden under uncaring feet

Hearts, like roses in the rain,
Scatter under the onslaught of pain.

Copyright: Rani Turton

THERE IS THE SKY, THERE IS THE RIVER

2010-03-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

THERE IS THE SKY, THERE IS THE RIVER

There is the sky, there is the river

The taker, and the giver

There is the sand, there are the stones
All that constitutes our bones

There are the stars and the trees
The soul has eyes that sees

The body thus thinks and acts
But then, whose is this mind that reacts?

Copyright: Rani Turton

This Emptiness Within: Poem

2010-02-12T05:57:00.000-08:00

THIS EMPTINESS WITHIN

This emptiness within, an utter stillness that could,
Would, should remain transfixed by eternity

Not a sunyatian stillness not the perfect void
A void, no, rather devoid
Not a perfect vacumn not even the space
To fill up a space that

Silences and stillness from analysis
Springs nought; not the naught but the knot
And the stillness and the silence in empty hearts
As far from perfection as existence
As far from existence as perfection
From where perfection springs
From the depth of the naughts

This emptiness within, then as still
As far from perfection's existence
As from perfecting existence

Transcends and permeates the fickle uneasy mind
Leaving mind and thought and emotion far, far behind.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Anchor: Poem

2010-02-03T13:41:00.000-08:00

Anchor

Wherever you may rove, my thoughts, my brimming heart
Tries to keep pace with you: for so it is;
The journey has been so long, so fraught with worry
I am numb and my eyes blurry.

There is a port perhaps where you can at times
Anchor; there is an inn or a home where you may
At times wont to linger: wherever you may go
My heart goes with you, with every tide's flow.

Once I knew you were my lighthouse
My ocean and my endless horizon, I dared
To cross oceans and go hither and dither;
But in anguish oft did my lonely soul wither.

Folk musicians wander and do not wonder;
But how did I become the muse and the mast
When all that I ever wanted, I do concur
Was to become your eternal anchor?

Copyright: Rani Turton

Rolls Royce Phantom Saloon

2010-02-03T12:54:00.000-08:00

Seen at an automobile show in a suburb of Paris, this dream car.

This Moment Captive: Poem

2010-01-07T10:26:00.000-08:00

THIS MOMENT CAPTIVE

I can call you my beloved
Softly under my breath:
Only my own ears will hear;
I can look on you as my very own
Until the hour of my death.

You are here and now, this moment captive
In the cupped warmth of my hands
You can speak to me if you must
I won't run for I'll be a prisoner of your words
Tied to you by soft silken bands.

I will always cherish you; and moreso
I will always remember how sometimes you,
Forgetting yourself, and the entire watching world
Let everybody see, so recklessly, so fecklessly
That your love for me was true.

Copyright: Rani Turton

The Psychology of the Unsaid: Poem

2009-12-27T13:51:00.000-08:00

The Psychology Of The Unsaid

Thoughts, untranslated, remained unsaid.
Was it because expression or emotion was dead?
Or was it really that all courage had fled?

Education has not the answer
On thoughts that remain unsaid;
Or the psychology of the unsaid world
Could probably change the world.

There were pauses, there were glances
And the words that spoke
Were the smokescreen for
Ordinary, unsuspecting folk.

Now, instinct, reason and lapsus
Are some more terms to discuss;
The unwritten is unwritten
The unspoken is yet hidden.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Rooftop Art, Paris

2009-12-13T12:35:00.000-08:00

There is a kind of ladder or steps that have been integrated into the design.

Leaves (How They Do Fall) : Poem

2009-12-01T10:10:00.000-08:00

Leaves, How They Do Fall

Leaves, how they do fall
Do they happen to wonder at all
Why the earth happens to turn
And them, with seasons spurned.
When they fall onto the earth
Carpetting the ground with their mirth
Do they think of the spring
And the life that it will finally bring?

That the cycle of life begins
That the waltze of seasons spins
Now leaves tumble and fall

One more autumn, one more fall.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Sculpted Leaf

2009-12-01T02:50:00.000-08:00

A leaf that has been sculpted to perfection on a building in Paris.

Swan and Dog

2009-11-30T03:46:00.000-08:00

The swan's feathers stood up in anger as it chased away this cuious dog!

Sequel to Dog and Swan!

2009-11-30T03:45:00.000-08:00

The dog literally turned tail with interested pigeons looking on.

Solitude Singing: Poem

2009-11-27T13:34:00.000-08:00

SOLITUDE SINGING

Being alone is knowing
That in in this solitary splendour
Solitude, stark and staring,
Solitude, singing a lullaby
Solitude, singing a dirge
Surrounded by so many sundry things;
Things seen and unseen
Factors known and unknown
Solitude singing softly, chanting without ranting
Solitude’s songs that sing of solemn things

Silence singing golden songs
Silence healing ancient wrongs
If only silence could be
More than a memory
More than history
Silence can be more than words
Empty words echoing in an empty world
Echoing in empty valleys
Silence unspoken, unspoken, unbroken
Transfixed by time.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Children's Art: "Woman with hair flying in the wind"

2009-11-27T08:48:00.000-08:00

The movement in this drawing (chalk on paper) has been captured by the wind in the woman's hair!

Artist: Indrani

Fruit Stand at night, Delhi: Photograph

2009-11-23T09:51:00.000-08:00

The allure of a fruit and vegetable stand at night!

Oh, Brittle Mind: Poem

2009-11-15T08:21:00.000-08:00

Oh, Brittle Mind

Oh, brittle mind, leave all your worries behind.
Ripples in your hemispheres, whorls and whirls
Race through your fragile interior.

Strong you may be. Bountiful your life
But your mind, fragile, courses like the river
Onward, onward, sometimes flooding the banks.

Then when reflection ceases
And bliss is yet to come
The mind, coursing on like that swollen river
Wonders what yet it will become;
If daylight would break, and with it reason:
The corpus callosum has it's own season.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Cat: Photograph

2009-11-14T11:30:00.000-08:00

Meow! Who goes there?

The Poet's World: Poem

2009-11-12T03:32:00.000-08:00

The Poet's World

How many poets have these pavements known
Stepping and storming, thinking and weaving
Lines into dreams; these cracked intellectual stones
Have mutely remained still under the onslaught of words:
Silent in the fury of the poet's world.

This twisted tree has seen me too
Trying to reason out what I did,
The evidence of the illogical emotion
And the rational linear world.

Why did the clouds run away?
Was there a reason the moon suddenly hid?
Why did the waves slosh and fall? Fated to follow the tide,
Feelings and fate, the poems pour out.

The city waits, accepting the flow
Of verse that, thrown into the river
Flowed on, flowed on. The river takes all
And life carries on, carries on.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Almost Locked: Photograph

2009-11-09T08:37:00.000-08:00

A lock that is almost locked.

Fish Sculpture

2009-10-25T15:19:00.000-07:00

A highly stylised fish sculpture ornamenting a house in Arras.

Gardens of the Chateau Champs-sur-Marne

2009-10-24T15:15:00.000-07:00

These gardens stretch behind the chateau of Champs-sur-Marne, roughly 20 kms from Paris.

Storm In My Brain: Poem

2009-10-15T14:59:00.000-07:00

Storm in My Brain

Storm in my brain, no, not again
Suddenly the moment snapped
My life lay broken in my hands.

I yearned for the days
When the future was clear
I longed for the people
Who would listen and hear

All that I need now
Is to know when to stick
Pieces of life together again

Storm in my brain
That sad melody again.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Children's Art: Papa

2009-10-14T02:38:00.000-07:00

A wonderful interpretation of a child's vision of father...

Rooftop Art, Paris

2009-10-13T01:15:00.000-07:00

A profusion of art in inaccessible places.

Who's That?

2009-10-08T13:32:00.000-07:00

Who's there?

A Wooden Door, A Metal Key: Poem

2009-09-29T04:34:00.000-07:00

A Wooden Door, A Metal Key

A plain wooden door, nerve-ridden
A carved metal key, in my pocket hidden.

And secrets that lie behind that blank facade
A building, some windows, my dreams.

I wandered on those blind Parisian streets.
Nobody knew my name
Nobody knew where I came from
I was different, yet still the same.

A wooden door like corpus callosum
Holds my two worlds together
I enter now, I walk out at midnight I flee
The buzzing and the hum.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Swan Lake

2009-09-12T10:16:00.000-07:00

Perfect! The swans show off their perfect choreography!

Mehndi (Henna)

2009-09-10T11:50:00.000-07:00

The intricate designs of mehndi being traced onto a hand.

Paths That Lead Somewhere: Poem

2009-09-09T13:56:00.000-07:00

Paths That Lead Somewhere

Paths that lead somewhere; do they know where they go?
Do they think of the pebbles and the thorns
That can wound your feet; do they imagine
Or ever ponder that distances are not the reason
You set out alone: that solitude could have made you
Retrace your steps fast enough if you had known.

If you had known that paths that lead you somewhere
But do not guide you along; sing, sing a lonely song;
That paths are just tracks, trails to be followed
And life is still to be walked along.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Austin Healey 3000

2009-09-07T14:04:00.000-07:00

A fabulous car on these paved streets.

Rooftop Art, Paris

2009-08-31T15:55:00.000-07:00

Amazingly nimble these fleet-footed artists must be!

The Town Hall of Paris

2009-08-31T15:41:00.000-07:00

This magnificent structure has elaborate carvings, statues and windows galore.

Complicated Cat

2009-08-29T15:04:00.000-07:00

Now, now, Pussy! There surely is an easier way to reach your goal?

Poets: Poem

2009-08-29T14:37:00.000-07:00

Poets

Poets have no tools, never

No tangible tools that is to say

Some people even call them fools

Poets have a different worldview

Built on emotions, sensations, lacerations

Splinters of pain

And all that the heart holds to be true.

Poets have no right way or wrong way

(Its true that they often lose their way anyway) :

Poetry has always been difficult to define

Scrambled thoughts, scrambled lines

That is to say

Perfect lines, perfect rhymes

Clockwork metric thoughts and thou and thine

Stanzas, couplets and all the rest of it

My emotions flew jagged against the sky

My thoughts often threatened to run away

Like me; I speak about pain and despair

People who are going to die

Corpus callosum, existence ad infinitum

Transient joy, the rainbow arching

Spectral armies marching

Tramping, tramping down history's worn-out lanes

And the lines in a stranger's face

His apparent despair, his evident pain

Jerk me from those absolute, imperfect rhymes

I am myself corpus callosum-like again.

Cats On Country Road

2009-08-24T13:57:00.000-07:00

One snoozing and one strolling. Its a cat's life!

Fountain, Chateau De Champs, France

2009-08-19T14:10:00.000-07:00

At the Chateau of Champs-sur-Marne, a graceful fountain. This used to be La Pompadour's residance.

The Porsche Carrera 4S

2009-08-17T16:32:00.000-07:00

Standing quietly on a road in Paris, this marvel of mechanical engineering.

Notre Dame, Paris

2009-08-17T02:16:00.000-07:00

Notre Dame of Paris under the August sun and the many tourists that come to visit it during the holidays.

I Spoke To Liberty: Poem

2009-08-15T13:31:00.000-07:00

I Spoke To Liberty

I spoke to liberty and liberty spoke to me
Asking softly, 'Do you really want to be free?'

I murmured to melancholy and melancholy said
' Why do all these thoughts go through your head?'

I asked for grace and grace touched my life
Saying, 'Quiet for now. Forget all your strife.'

Then I walked on alone. Touched to the bone.
The anger and the pain, washed by the rain

Dissolved as I wept.

Then, fortunately I slept.

I spoke to liberty and liberty spoke to me
Asking softly, 'Do you really want to be free?'

Copyright: Rani Turton

Sculpted angelots, Lille

2009-08-15T06:51:00.000-07:00

Sculpted cherubims on a building in Lille.

A Wooden Door, A Metal Key: Poem

2009-08-13T12:38:00.000-07:00

A Wooden Door, A Metal Key

A plain wooden door, nerve-ridden

A carved metal key, in my pocket hidden.

And secrets that lie behind that blank facade

A building, some windows, my dreams.

I wandered on those blind Parisian streets.

Nobody knew my name

Nobody knew where I came from

I was different, yet still the same.

A wooden door like corpus callosum

Holds my two worlds together .

I enter now, I walk out at midnight I flee

The buzzing and the hum.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Unusual Sculpture Under Balcony, France

2009-08-13T10:14:00.000-07:00

Found under a balcony, this wonderful figure is to be found in a Parisian suburb.

Dust And Dreams: Poem

2009-08-12T03:14:00.000-07:00

Dust And Dreams

There was dust and there were dreams
Born of imagination and longing
There was years of neglect and wanting
Then, a spark, kindled by thought
Set fire to memory; thus it was that poetry,
Longing and imagination came together
Gifting me a kind of liberty.

There was dust from an exiled country
There were dreams born of imagination and longing
The jewels, souvenirs, that glowed when all else in me was dead.

There was dust, then.
There were dreams.
But only, only when
Love redeems.

Copyright: Rani Turton

Flag and Lamps, Paris

2009-08-06T06:53:00.000-07:00

The angle of the flag between the lamps seemed interesting.

Snoozing Cat

2009-08-03T14:00:00.000-07:00

The hammock incites pleasant dreams!

Looking in the Same Direction

2009-08-03T03:21:00.000-07:00

A perfect tandem, bird and cavalier!

Cathedral of Auxerre

2009-07-29T13:30:00.000-07:00

A view of the sculpture on the cathedral of Auxerre.

Clouds in Windowpane

2009-07-29T13:27:00.000-07:00

Reflection of sky and clouds in this picturesque window in the French countryside.

Street Art

2009-07-29T10:49:00.000-07:00

In the streets if Dieppe, a poignant artistic word: "Alone".

Extraordinary carvings, Paris

2009-07-26T08:16:00.000-07:00

This intricately carved building is in Paris, abounding in details that are a real feast for the eye.

Single magnolia flower

2009-07-25T03:21:00.000-07:00

A single magnolia flower near the top of this tree.

Line of Gargoyles, Cathedrale de Gisors

2009-07-24T03:55:00.000-07:00

Line of gargoyles in this wonderfully sculpted cathedral with plenty of amazing details. Click on the photograph to see it it enlarged.

So Acute Was My Loneliness: Poem

2009-07-16T07:31:00.000-07:00

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.

If roam I must, if chains I must break

Alone, in this pebble-strewn destiny

My happiness I must fake.

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

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

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.

Sculpted Door

2009-07-16T06:13:00.001-07:00

Detail of wooden sculpted door, Paris.

URL changed

2009-07-15T12:51:00.001-07:00

The blog with the URL that you wwanted to reach here can be reached on the new address:

http://artisanofwords.blogspot.com/

Meanwhile this URL will contiue with more photography!