(Poetry) Purple Kisses

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.

Purple Kisses

Running out of things to say

As I’m heading for the sunset

And my heaven falls,

Down on me.

Now I’m on the wrong side,

The wrong side of heaven,

And the way I feel

Is stranger than the purple kisses

Or the gypsies gold.

So still,

It chills,

Turns my bones to ice.

Then I’m….

Burning up

In the shade of night.

I don’t know what’s gone wrong.

Looking in mirrors

And seeing different faces,

Driving me insane.

And I’m running out of time,

Running out of kisses,

But I’ve got nothing left to say.

I feel the ground

Beneath my feet

Going past the scale of seven,

Heading off to nine.

Is this the end that’s coming?

Is this the end so soon?

So this is it.

(No more purple kisses)

So this is it,

Our, final, curtain call.

No last words.

No reunions.

No last drinks

Of blood red wine.

So this is it,

With no last kisses

And no good-byes.

I’ve nothing left to say anymore,

My words are discarded

Like feathers and old tin cans,

Meaningless,

Like beginnings.

Meaningless,

Like ends.

So this is it.

On the wrong side of heaven.

So this is it.

Driving me insane.

So this is it.

No more purple kisses.

No more kisses at all.

So this is it.

Was it worth living

Knowing that it would end?

So this is it,

And I’ve run out of time,

As I pass the scale of seven

Heading off to nine,

So why do I feel

So glad?

(PURPLE KISSES; By A R J Abranson; 23-01-91/19:45 & 14-04-91/19:45)

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

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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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