Ken Allan Dronsfield is a published poet who has recently been nominated for The Best of the Net and 2 Pushcart Awards for Poetry in 2016. His poetry has been published world-wide in various publications throughout North America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. Ken loves thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night, and spending time with his cat Willa. Ken's new book, "The Cellaring", a collection of haunting, paranormal, weird and wonderful poems, has been released and is available through Amazon.com. He is the co-editor of two poetry anthologies, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze and Dandelion in a Vase of Roses available from Amazon.com.
A Charcoal Black
Snail trails go round in a spring garden;
warmer breezes beget greening grasses;
lichen and moss cover the old stone wall,
I swear a baby squirrel ran by just now.
Crows are back in their murder covens.
The songbirds are here; more return daily.
Smells of the forest still musty and damp
from winter’s blanket of icy crispy leaves.
Ice sheets have melted away as geese
happily swim throughout coolish waters.
It won't be long before tadpoles and turtles
from the ole Mississippi will happily join them.
A puff on the pipe, and a sip from the flask,
take out the sketch pad from my canvas bag.
Time to capture, using a charcoal black,
moments in time on this springtime day.
Harsh or endearing reason
sidestep the seasonal gaiety
to hide within the poison oak
while wishing to travel back.
Much simpler and gentler times
covet those very sweet rhymes
whisper a lullaby to deaf ears
we take a crimson train home.
I know sometimes evil lurks
on the rim of a soft rose petal
and barbs impale the mind
leaving an icy hand to bleed.
A bleach blue sky, day by day
listing the ways of redemption
always the little things ripping,
squeezing, ceasing the hunger.
My skull is but an empty shell
cradle dreams in black & white
tomorrow's nihilistic color fantasy
and the nightmares of yesterday.
Sail into Eternity
Waves crash in timely succession
pounding sand as shorebirds run.
pelicans soar on flaming wave crests
ships at sail move slowly offshore.
Seaweed drys in the scorching sun
lover's embrace upon plaid throws
fisherman cast into the calm bay
foghorns speak from the outer isle.
Seagulls gather before the twilight
standing upon the rocks and beach.
I'm sailing off into the sunset; but
my hope is to sail off into eternity.
I want to travel home to my beautiful island
where turquoise waters soothe an injured soul.
Listen and you will hear the jungles singing
songs from the past as ghostly drums echo.
Whispers dancing from hills and valleys to
the giant palms and those tall rocky cliffs.
The white sand beaches wrap around the island,
birds and small animals scatter and run about.
Searching tidal pools for tidbits or small meals
those beautiful egrets lift off into the warm breeze.
I'm ready to travel home to the beauty of my island
where the turquoise waters welcome my lost soul.
Purple Feathered Dreams
Sapphire stars of
red diamond glints;
Flowing red cape
in a spatial breeze;
shoes tap in time
dusty sunlit ballroom.
tempests of doom.
searching the heavens;
drenched in skittles,
a color palette ablaze.
feathered and flattered;
a needle to the soul;
I serenade the stars.
Purple Haze echoes,
in stereophonic power;
shred the raucous guitar
all along the Watchtower.