FREE LOVE LETTERS

Author: Paul Ransom

  • Love letter # 479

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in ,

    In gods, I do not believe. In destiny, I place no trust. Neither do I look for signs in stars. But you! In you there is every reason to believe. I did not manifest you. You are not an answered prayer. You are so much more than a wish fulfilled. I do not need a…

  • Love letter # 507

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    With you, I was beautiful. It was transformative. It changed the way I saw the world. As though, with your eyes, I could see through the congealed disappointment of years. Where darkness and doubt once reigned, in your advent, light and liberty were unfurled. Until then, you were the gorgeous detail I overlooked – in…

  • A Christmas coming out scene

    A Christmas coming out scene

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    THE FOLLOWING IS AN EXTRACT FROM OUR RECENTLY PUBLISHED NOVEL THE LAST SUMMER OF HAIR. As the afternoon progresses and the heat sits thicker on the dry land, the Salter clan work their way through copious helpings of barbecued meat, slabs of lager and numerous bottles of cheap, sweet bubbles. Tissue paper hats and broken crackers…

  • Love letter # 545

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I saw you in the evening. You turned your golden head toward me. Eternity moving slow. Some things you remember with the circle of breath.

  • Love letter # 514

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    I said, “Show me a sign.” You said, “There are no signs.” Of course. Only in the absence of signs. From here on, I shall practise emptiness, such that I may fill with your light unobstructed. Now I shall attend to the silence, such that I may know your quiet voice. Here I shall embody…

  • Love letter # 0.1

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    All the light did was shine. And there you were.

  • Love letter # 662

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    This noonday, on the Esplanade, overlooking the blue expanse, I travelled at the speed of sunshine. Across the bay of forgetting. The light must have been just so. Call it azure, cerulean, aquatint…it was the colour of belief. The belief that comes before knowing.    I was arrested mid-breath. The clatter of the day washed…

  • I know at last the power of not knowing

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in , ,

    You set in motion a chain of extraordinary events in me, by an act of authoring not yet fully understood. Perhaps it was simply something you allowed. In the space you created, the quiet had their say, the imperfect were permitted, the vain became irrelevant. And our fear turned to awe, thanks to a force…

  • Love letter # 478

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    Every year at this time I fall in love with you again. For a few weeks from mid-September my body remembers. Not in words or pictures. In quickening. A tension sweet and low and giddy. On bright evenings I breathe in honey. I glide, as though you had just bestowed your kiss upon me. In…

  • Behold them in the triumph of light

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    by

    Paul Ransom
    in

    What now, if anything, shall we wrest from sediment? When the pretty lights have faded to fallen husk, what shall we make of burnt out shells? This, my love, is what awaits us this spring. In the garden of history, the archaeology of whispers. Here now, bones of fire. Brush the dirt from fragments, reconstruct…