 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 80 haunted, paranormal, horror, weird and wonderful poems, has been released and is available through Amazon.com. He is the co-editor of the poetry anthology titled, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze available at Amazon.com. A second anthology, Dandelion in a Vase of Roses will be released soon. Where the Pink Flowers Grow Please take me home, where the pink flowers grow. Brush my cheek and inspire mortal desires. Cast the dark away, allow the light to glow, meld my spirit back to life’s internal fire. Here I now lie, deep in this hallowed ground, listening for the sounds of the shovels’ infernal digging. The soul awaits its journey, but the sun is warm and forgiving. Yes, please carry me home, where the pink flowers grow. (Initial Publication, Bewildering Stories, Issue 656) Filet of Soul, Rev 2 Rising from the grasp of a tenacious Black Hole; escaping on the crest of a comet’s bristling tail An atom’s enigma in this planetary dust bowl; a distorted ray of matter; oblivious to detail. Bouncing on the Moon with erratic steps; racing a light beam to the Sun’s inner core. Traversing a nebula where many have wept; Kissing a falling star as wishes often bore. A spirited haste to rejoin the human race… choking on the stardust in a flavored sky; ready for trials after a harmonizing disgrace. Free of a serpent in a final flaming goodbye. A Dark Light Yet another vestige of love lost whetted cheeks and swollen eyes life's cruel moments wreak havoc within the softness of one's heart. Blasphemous tides slap ruby lips take a soul with an innocuous glee in a moment you're smiling wide blood stained teeth devour again. A heart stops beating with malice the breath gone in a rattle and hum final whispers and the brain quivers dormant pulse and a bluish pallor. The tempest roars imperviously loud a body can be lost, never to be found great ships disintegrate upon granite lives are left, penned on parchment. The Reaper watches jubilant on rocks as a grand lighthouse loses once more clothing and splintered wood float on as rubble and rabble left on the shore. In a stormy gale, glows a freakish orb stung by the tail of an iced scorpion harbinger doomed in a soulless sky tears in the torrent beget a dark light. (Initial Publication, Black Poppy Review)
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 Ken Allan Dronsfield is a Published Poet and Author originally from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. He enjoys the outdoors, playing guitar and spending time with his cats Merlin and Willa. He is the Co-Editor of the new Poetry Anthology titled, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze" available at Amazon.com. His published work can be found in Journals, Magazines and Blogs throughout the Web including: Indiana Voice Journal, Belle Reve Journal, Scarlet Leaf Review, Peeking Cat Magazine, Dead Snakes, Bewildering Stories and many others. Miscreants of a Flickering Glorification Night shows no mercy upon those of the Light. Walk the dark line as a shadow Moon whispers. The aura shines brighter on this brisk winter's night, feel a trite of the stinging cold. The Raven spreads his wings while soaring to a warmer sky. A black line engulfs meeklings as shadows grasp at burning. Smoldering crosses hang in ice belief makes room for hypocrisy diabolical sees pious sufferance. Night shan't show mercy upon a flickering glorification of holy light. |
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