Rani Turton Poems

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.
...

There is a book and pages that rustle,
A vagabond muse, bewildered
Hiding in the faces of ones that I loved
That sang, that danced, that bled.
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How long on the lapping waters
Crowded, hungry and cold
Each heave of the boat and we thought
This flimsy bucket couldn't hold.
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In darkest night, my soul, anguished by its plight
Tried, tried to soar free, but tied to soil
Came rushing back, to wait another day.
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Watching the night approach with silent tread
Waiting to clasp his hand.
Waiting for that compassion
That pretends not to notice faults
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Names, places, things.
Whither, thither, wither.

Names that speak of where you come
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It is so very hard to be alone; from dawn to dusk
From dusk to dawn, alone, alone alone.
From a chant to a rant to a highpaying job
To an apartment in St Germain des Pres
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Now that yesterday's pages have been turned,
Rustling, fluttering,
Flown far away
Now that those people have gone, far away
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One day age will bend me down
And I will walk slowly like my old father.
I will have left life's mysterious codes
Those codes that slowly left me, rather.
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Obama has a strange name they say
But then so do I
Strange for here but not for there
Stranger and stranger as the world becomes
...