Sunday, October 1, 2023

KEN ALLAN DRONSFIELD

 


Of Sallow

 

Trust is an oak tree with shallow roots.

so very treacherous in windy weather.

I feel as though I'm glued to the floor;

pinned like a moth to an insect display.

I wish to leave this horrible evil place,

run far away into the cold, dark night.

In the flickering shadows of humanity

sympathetic words are a honeycomb,

sweet to the soul; healing to the heart.

Dreams rise and fall like lunar tides;

engrossing thoughts flood the brain;

as blood through old varicose veins.

Flotsam strewn about dying fields as

jetsam falls from darker, foggy skies.

Face rises to the sun, a sallow pallor.

Vultures perched, perversely hawing;

a flag is folded in presentation style;

roses tossed onto a shiny new casket.

The eve of one's quietus has arrived.

 

Dead Sunflowers

 

All things wild and free;

roses amidst bristling briers

honeybees upon Canna Lilies.

Kisses in fields of goldenrod

savoring tall root beer floats

empty hummingbird feeders

seeds from dead sunflowers

chickadees feast in a spruce

pumpkins like orange skittles

dot the field in the far valley

ricks of oak stacked and dry

barn owls; an inquisitive stare

kittens chase autumn leaves

a school bus drops happy kids

witches, ghosts, and goblins

knock on our doors for treats.

Fall is now here amongst us

as the dead sunflowers sleep.

 

The Poetic Sound Of Rain

 

During the rains, I feel the strength of each drop

as it gives life, yet, in a raucous deluge, takes it away.

Gentle upon the morning shower, as rain falls before

my feet; feisty in the evening hours as lightning

joins in the affray.

Our memories, written on petals, fallen from life's

great circle of flowers, fed by the sun and rains of

yesterday, devoured by the earth to feed others.

Memories, like the rain; some beneficial,

some miserable. some happy some sad.

Lying on my bed in candle light, a quilt upon me;

I read a book, see the words, but only hear the rain.

The rain, the rain, the poetic sounds of the rain

softly carry me to my dream state and sleep.

 

KEN ALLAN DRONSFIELD

 

KEN ALLAN DRONSFIELD is a disabled veteran and prize-winning poet from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. He has seven poetry collections to date; 'The Cellaring', 'A Taint of Pity', 'Zephyr's Whisper', ‘The Cellaring, Second Edition’, ‘Sonnets and Scribbles’, 'Inamorata at Twilight and his just released book, 'Aequilateralis, Aphorisms of the Water-Bourne'. Ken's been nominated four times for the Pushcart Prize and seven times for Best of the Net. He was First Prize Winner for the 2018 and 2019, Realistic Poetry International Nature Poetry Contests. He has begun producing Creative Content on his YouTube channel and has had success sharing his poetry with the social media community. Ken loves writing, thunderstorms, music and spending time with his rescue cats Willa, Yumpy and Melly.


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