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

Stone Face, France

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

Street art, Evereux

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

On Losing: Poem

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

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

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