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Rani Turton France Independant writer and poet, originally from New Delhi, now living in France.   Enter Email       Get automatic updates in your mailbox. Poetry A Niche For Me in Your Heart A Wooden Door, A Metal Key Alas, Alone Am I Artisan of Words As I Lay Dying At Sunset, Today Beckon My Shadow Blazing Suns Once Blackened Me Blurred Consolation, In Doubt Cry Now, Relentless Fire Deserts That Dance in My Mind Every Once In A While Everyday, While We May Exist For Me For You Who Grieve Tonight Forget Me Fragile, Fragile, Fragile Grief Handling The Pain Hours How Do These Feelings Matter? I Have Managed, So Far I Hear Your Voice I Left My Heart Somewhere I Pause But Life Goes On Anyway I Saw a Bird Alone on a Tree I Spoke to Liberty I Thought Of A Place If I Should See You Again If I Tell You Not To Go If You Have To Leave, Go Swiftly Insubstantial Lessons I Never Learned Life in Pastel Listening, Yes I'm Listening Meanings and Definitions My Beloved's Face My Father, With His Arthritic Hands My Mind Has A Mind My Mind, In Blinding Light My Soul, I Saw You Mysteries None, Nothing, Nowhere Oh, Brittle Mind One Day Old Age will Bend me Down Paths that Lead Somewhere Pillow of Dust Secrets, Murmured When Alone Sew My Heart with A Golden Needle Shah Jahan's Dagger So Far Have I Travelled So Ordinary Some Promises I Have Kept Sometimes When I Forget Speak To Me Then Take this Day as Your Own Talking To Nobody The Days Are So Long, My Love The Glass Of Wine Smiles The Literary Blues The Poet's World The Rose and the Shadow The Silent Lane The Sometimes Song The Turning Point The Vase Fell on the Floor The Waiting This Emptiness Within Through the Branches of a Tree, I Can See Today, as Always Unbearable Sorrow Unfurl Your Wings Walk Slowly through Bowered Lanes When Fears Loom Large and Immense Whispers Into The Brick Wall You'll Be My Knight In Shining Armor Your Fine-boned Hands are the Focus of My Dreams Your Sweet Voice, My Child

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