Rani Turton

Rani Turton Poems

Silence. Long moments that stretch into years.
Restrained words, sometimes gaps where names should be.
Words, prayers, songs, imagination inflamed by memory.

I walked down that lonely road
That sinuous, torturous bend
You know how I hated
The cold, the distance, my thoughts.

You'll be my knight in shining armour
Shining so bright I can hardly see
The sunlight because of thee

If you have some place
Some place you could well spare
Make a niche for me in your heart
To warm me within your space

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

And secrets that lie behind that blank facade

I am an artisan of words
Which I sculpt, chisel and fashion the way I can
I am a creator of worlds;
I pour my emotion into the poems I write.

Starlight, moonlight, candles burning bright
Oil lamps with flickering wicks
All this symbolises night

My father, with his arthritic hands
Closes his door, picks up the bow
Tucks the bit under his chin
Tunes it real low

Dusk comes, softly, slowly, like a shy bride
Dusk comes with a golden-red veil as if to hide
The diamonds in the hair, the khol in the eyes
Heat arises from the earth and flies

Draw the blinds, Time
Its time enough and enough
Time to grieve: I do not want
The sun to weighten closed lids;

Like a soft breeze that, barely there, sifts the papers on my table.
A window, open, and the curtains move gently.
A memory, that should not have been there.
An emotion that barely acknowledged should have known better.

A storm will arise tonight.

The wind has started ruffling the pages of my book
The open window creaks, curtains billow.

In these closing years of your life
Each time I see your white hair that was once so black
Your body bent that once walked so straight
I remember you throwing me up in your arms

There is a clock on a city street
These pavings that have often known my feet
There is a clock, a street and a tower
That is the mystery of love's power.


Poets have no tools, never
No tangible tools that is to say
Some people even call them fools
Poets have a different worldview


Yet again, a wanderer at your shore.

Asking and not waiting for your reply.
Waiting but not wanting; watching but silently.

My soul wanders, erring; to my great surprise:
I didn’t know I possessed one.
That to this day and that when tomorrow should come
I will look at what I’ve become.

As despair weaves a cocoon around my shadow
Alas, alone am I with my despair.
I had waited for these clouds to lift I had prayed
For these storms to cease

When a woman goes to pieces
Hysteria and fragility are often evoked
When a man goes to pieces
Its often just workload

I wrote this poem for you; just a lyrical fantasy.
Just some words that found their way onto a page.
Unasked for, unbidden
But not yet forbidden.

Rani Turton Biography

Independant writer and poet living in France. These poems are a selection of years of writing. They are all under strict copyright. If you want to use any material in the poems for publication, teaching, scolarship or reference they MUST be credited. No commercial usage is permitted. Copying, scraping or plagiarising is not appreciated. Poems that appear in print for anthologies or textual use need written permission. Thank you.)

The Best Poem Of Rani Turton


Silence. Long moments that stretch into years.
Restrained words, sometimes gaps where names should be.
Words, prayers, songs, imagination inflamed by memory.

Emptiness, loneliness, the world, the void.
Look behind, look ahead, look straight ahead.
The world is indifferent to your pain.
The world is indifferent to your sighs.
Nothing will ever be the same;
Nothing will ever matter again.
Will anything ever matter again?

Absences. Like a long lonely lane in an eastern land
With closed doors against the afternoon heat
Questions that taunt the tormented mind
All the answers that one had longed to find

There is a river that flows through the land
Its banks are full of plants and sand
Its soft murmurings are balm to the soul
I long to sit beside it and once again feel whole.

Rani Turton Comments

I would like copyright info and your permission to quote your poem 'Just Believe' in a weekly essay I write for my church, Thank you very much.

0 0 Reply
p.a. noushad 04 April 2009

my soul gets bliss on your verses.

1 1 Reply
Sílvia Oliveira 29 December 2008

Dear Rani Turton, Plath´s poems are so dense to me... maybe because I´m her namesake and might sometimes carry similar feelings of sadness and desperation...Well, as to your poems, they´re excellent! Congrats from Brazil, Yours in Poetry, Sílvia Oliveira

1 1 Reply

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