Ken Allan Dronsfield is a published poet and author originally from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. He loves thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night, and spending time with his cats Merlin and Willa. He is the co-editor of the poetry anthology titled, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze available at Amazon.com. His published work can be found in reviews, journals, magazines and anthologies throughout the web and in print venues including: The Burningword Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, The Literary Hatchet Magazine, The Scarlet Leaf Review, Belle Reve Journal, Peeking Cat Magazine, The Australia Times, Bewildering Stories, Aquill Relle, Members Anthology, Book 6, Literature Today, Volume 5, Poetic Melodies and Imperfect Paths Anthologies by Creative Talents Unleashed, Birdsong Anthology Vol 1, Voices of Humanity, Vol 2 Anthology, and others. Ken's poetry has been nominated for Best of the Net for 2016.
Adrift upon an old oak leaf
floating down a slow creek
small coy and ducks meet
waving goodbye to summer.
Faeries giggling at twilight
gnomes and goblins a fright
Autumn solstice frosty white
as witches gleefully cackle.
Cauldron boils briskly steaming
pumpkins a wryly grinning team
sit upon an oak leaf dreaming
floating down a slower creek.
Can you hear a defiance
within my throbbing heart
crying out through tears
falling from the hazy sky.
Asking not for pleasures
nor beg for agonizing pain;
Only to inhale life once again.
afloat in an aura of timeless love;
a feathery wisp from high above.
Catch a ray from a Nebula's haze
weave a web in a pretentious maze.
walk through blood where piety leads.
Follow on as yet another shall leave;
essence bruised and forever tortured,
For my life's intention was blessed love;
But reality becomes a chaotic infirmity.
Death of a Clown
late night backwater town
house on wheels holds eight
carnival life or circus dreams
apply makeup; the face aglow
of happier times a carefree life
shrilled whistles, as food waits
smell fried dough, or cotton candy
all along the smokey boardwalk
back stage it's booze and coffee
kids just love a spinning bow tie
fight for life, now sleeps by a tree
sad to see the Death of a Clown.
Spirits of Autumn
With the moon rise
on an autumn night,
a chilled wind flows
through a nervous sky.
In the desert so cold,
near the Joshua Tree,
the sands are still warm,
from the hot sunny rays,
when scorpions danced
during a lazy hazy day.
As nightmares recall
the Thunderbird's stare
reflect the mirrored haze
of a pious deity shared
near the Joshua Tree,
when sands were warm,
from the sunny rays,
in that desert of old,
religious fables relayed
Spirits of Autumn's cold.
Whilst sitting upon a snowflake I ponder
come this November to never forget
the summer wears are all stored within
the small log cabin by a big misty lake.
My arms and hands so worn and rough
filling and moving the barrels of cider
blustery cold winds makes my eyes tear
the old horse slows only to cross the river.
The walking stick deep within fresh snow
wood fire feels good, as flakes melt away
the feeling now returns to toes and fingers
winter shook us all upon a day this autumn
as democrats fight during the winter's blast,
republican's scheme in their coolish dream
those shadowed hands stuff ballot boxes full
and liars now show as the cold winds blow.
Whilst I sit upon a snowflake and ponder
a November's cold and uncertain tomorrow
feeling contrite within this evenings twilight
during the coolish days of autumn's wake.