(Poetry) Into The Arms Of Memories

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.

Into The Arms Of Memories

Whispers riding on the flow of the tide,

Like tears falling

On reflections in the pool.

The cool dark hours

Silently awaiting

A lovers touch,

With its tender grace.

Wild horses run wild

In the meadows and in the sea,

Stallions of white,

Calling for you to come

And learn the meaning of dreams.

Soaring high,

Above the clouds that share our sky,

The freedom is felt,

And love is announced

In the shape of a dove

Freed from its film.

Is no one about to tell me

Of the pictures taken from dreams

In a cinema that’s been abandoned,

Showing movies of old picture queens

And re-runs of yesterdays.

Am I the only one

Left alone among the reels?

With a host of forgotten words

And pictures of freedom and love

And whispers riding from silent screens,

Where the horses have run wild

And the dove flies free

And dreams are sown

In the shape of a movie queen.

Watching the past

With the knowledge of today,

That the horse became lame,

The dove was caught,

The picture queen’s passed away

Into the arms of memories

And whispers caught in the wind.

(INTO THE ARMS OF MEMORIES; By A R J Abranson; 20-11-90/14:36)

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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