(Poetry) Las Vegas

Along with reams of short stories, and longer attempts at fiction, I’ve written countless poems over the decades. The bulk were written in my teens and twenties and I literally have folders full of handwritten and typewritten compositions.

I’d been threatening to put a selection into print since the mid-90’s. I remember discussing it with an old girlfriend in ’95 but a number of things always seemed to stop me. Part of that was not really being sure if I wanted to share them with the world, part was never having the time to go through what was amounting to thousands of bits of paper – ranging from typed and formatted finished compositions to hand written stanzas on the back of paper bags, or anything I had at hand when inspiration hit.

A few years ago I finally got round to sorting out a collection and published them under the title “Wild Card Symphonies”. Consisting of three smaller volumes of my work, “Wild Card Symphonies”, “Cry To Me”, and “This Graveyard Heart”, the book totaled just over 120 poems. You can buy a copy (plug plug) through Lulu on one of the links at the bottom of the page if you like what you read and want to have more.

Las Vegas is one of my personal favourites. It was written on the same day as The Faeries Know, which I posted last week. Christmas Day 1990 obviously had something in the air for my creative juices!

Las Vegas

Still moving

After all of those years

Trapped on film

In motion.

Pictures of a youthfulness

That has long since

Run away, with your fear

Of a black room.

Late into the night I sit

Watching pictures of the same movies,

Watching pictures of an old you

Trapped in re-run

And a slave to slow-mo,

There’s nothing I can do

To stop my memories

In a time, that has long forgotten you.

Keeping visions of my yesterdays,

Of my yesteryears,

Close to me, close to my heart,

But the memories still shine through

With hurt and pain,

With a feeling of loss,

Without you.

Late into the night I sit

Watching pictures of the same movies,

Watching pictures of a young me,

Watching pictures of an old you.

Watching pictures,

It’s how I remember.

Watching pictures.

I remember you

But now you’re lost

And trapped in re-runs

And a slave to slow-mo.

And the memories hurt.

There’s nothing I can do

To change my yesterdays,

To change our yesteryears.

We’re just slaves together,

But trapped apart,

And I remember you

In Las Vegas

As the reel stops.

(LAS VEGAS, By A R J Abranson, 25-12-90/17:07)

My poetry anthology, Wild Card Symphonies, is available to buy now on Lulu in both Softcover and Dust Jacket Hardcover.


Wild Card Symphonies, Cry To Me & This Graveyard Heart are Copyright ©2015, Angus Abranson. All rights reserved.
Cover design by George C. Cotronis (Ravenkult Studios, www.ravenkult.com) Copyright © 2015 Angus Abranson
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
No reproduction in part or in whole without prior written permission from the author of the copyright owner.

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