KEN ALLAN DRONSFIELD - POEMS

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, prize winning poet and author from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. A proud member of the Poetry Society of New Hampshire, he has three poetry collections to date; 'The Cellaring', 'A Taint of Pity', and  'Zephyr's Whisper'. Ken does not have an MFA or Creative Writing Degree but, he once road a dirt bike on woodland trails from southern New Hampshire north into Canada. He's been nominated three times for the Pushcart Prize and six times for the Best of the Net. He was First Prize Winner for 2018 and 2019 in the Realistic Poetry Internationals Nature Poetry Contests. Ken loves writing, hiking, thunderstorms, and spending time with his cats Willa and Yumpy.

​Season of Flame – Ode to Australia

The Heron soars higher;
above billowing smoke and fire.
The tendrils of sunlight;
peek through lower clouds.
Reaching for crests of waves
on these long hazy days.
Great fires decimate the land
dispel truth and steal your breath.
As water hits the flame;
dark smoke changes to white.
Koala, Kangaroos and Wallabies,
birds and others escape from
burning thickets to small clearings,
trying to out-run the choking smoke.
To unravel this stifling torment;
you must begin somewhere.
The Heron soars higher;
over wisps of smoke at sunset.

​

​The Diner

A plain donut sits on the saucer
smoke and perfume waft in the air
old men cough at the crowed counter
the waitress arrives with my coffee
pesky flies buzz to and fro all about
I play judo trying to chase them away
one wins and lands upon the spoon
a door opens; fresh air begs an inhale.
Finish my coffee and donut I light up
with long inhales from my old pipe. 
Ah yes, life is good here in the diner.

​

The Minuet
​

Ravens singing a shrill harmony
soaring above the red fiery pyre.
Sprites dodge wayward snowflakes;
seeking boughs of spruce cover.
Ice fairies waltz a loving minuet
on crystal icicles along my old roof.
Goblins dress in Sunday attire;
softly kiss with lemonade pouts,
chickadees rustle in pine needles
Life as a cherished mystical soul
whilst misty diamond stars weep.
During that icy passionate dance,
azure tidal rivers shall rise and fall.
Flashing tease of an ocular ellipse,
peeking full moon in pastel clouds.
Edge of a cold troll’s rapaciousness
inhales of a pinkish twilight unicorn,
all enjoy the minuet of the ice fairy.

​

The Yearning
​

In a lifetime full of yearning
through which came wishing, dreaming
within many splendid, unquiet enthusiasms
an echo murmured back the word, prayer!
I was needy and you solicitous,
my mind always straying to paradoxes.
Instead I uncovered the devotion,
the perkiness brought such euphoria
and so, I screamed, 'Is that a blessing?'
Mattering and assaultive within theodicy
Urging and purging within my slyness,
my shyness or otherness, I could not
awaken! Tossing its ghost into all desire,
'It's that barrenness,' I muttered
Queryingly back into my memories
craving the eccentric, eclectic fantasy
the yearning essential evanescence
an evolutionist laughed in retort.
'It's that piety,' I whispered.
The saintliness simply smiled.

​