Woman's Face : Wooden sculpture at Vannes

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

This Burdened Heart: Poem

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

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

Stylised end of gutterpipe in Dinan, France.

When Miracles Come: Poem

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

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

If I Close My Eyes: Poem

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

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

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

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

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

 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

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

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

What! A feather almost as big as me!

One Day A Cloud Will Find Me : Poem

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

The shadow of a tree with it's well defined leaves on an old, cracked wall and with the play of sun and shadow is impressionable.

Shadow Of A Tree On A Cracked Wall: Photograph

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

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

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