KEN ALLAN DRONSFIELD - POEMS

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran and poet who has been nominated for 2 Best of the Net and 3 Pushcart Prize Awards for Poetry. His poems have been published world-wide in various publications throughout North and South America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. He has been published in The Burningword Journal, Belle Reve Journal, SETU Magazine, Blue Heron, The Literary Hatchet, The Stray Branch, Now/Then Manchester Magazine UK, Bewildering Stories, Scarlet Leaf Review, EMBOSS Magazine, and many more. Ken loves thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night, and spending time with his cats Willa, Hemi and Turbo. His 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 also available at Amazon.com.

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Medley Upon the Boughs
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​Keeper of the trees,
au pair of the great forests
please tell me why you leave
those bare stark branches
until the spring arrives?
Where is the beauty of the
majestic oak leaves always
shading me from the sun.
I hope the Maples are well
and keeping their sweetness.
I remember the lovely gold
sparkling beauty of the Alders
as their leaves shimmer in
the constant breezes of the
cooler late summer sunshine.
Each day, as the snowflakes
drift down, like leaves during the
autumns calling; we remember
the beauty of our green forest
and wait patiently for spring.
Leaves left piled after winter,
covering grass and meadows,
held tightly in the grasp of ice
join the weeping willows tears
lovingly left to fade, fade away.
 

Nana's Chair Still Rocks
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​I heard your name whispered
on a breeze so light;
slowly I turned
to see who was there.
I found myself alone,
no one in sight.
And then my soul knew,
it was my heart missing you.
I prayed to the Lord
and thought about you awhile
I heard your name again.
Your chair still rocks, and I smile.
 

The Deer Crossing~ A Sonnet
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Sun slowly dipping in the western sky;
the winds are light and the pine boughs tossing.
From their warm, peaceful beds the meek and shy,
walk to the river; time for the crossing.
To the fields above, to graze for a meal;
prance through the meadow, always listening.
Hear the Blue Jay; alerting all with zeal.
Just twilight now, time to make the crossing.
Squirrels have disappeared, gone to their beds.
Barn Owls glide by upon whispering wings.
Night animals stir, sleepiness now shed.
Stand on the bank, ready for the crossing.
Waters are cool; taking a little drink.
Browse til dawn, then return to the crossing.

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