 Ken Allan Dronsfield is a poet originally from New Hampshire, now living in Oklahoma. He was nominated for The Best of the Net and 2 Pushcart Awards in Poetry for 2016. His poetry has been published world-wide in North and South America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. Ken loves 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, weird and wonderful poems, is available through Amazon.com. He is the Co-Editor and Cover Artist for two poetry anthologies, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze" and "Dandelion in a Vase of Roses" available from Amazon.com. The Leaf Walking along the long path in the forest of hardwood and pine, a lone leaf glided down, like a paper plane moving left and right in the coolish breezes it finally landed upon the path turned several cartwheels and came to rest in a pile of fodder of like brethren and then from the hills, the winds, sounding like a cheering crowd at a ball game and to my left on the stone wall five squirrels stood with acorns, holding them up. I squinted and saw little numbers written on each. It appeared that my leaf had scored well on his flight and landing. Suddenly snow flakes began to fall, their cold stinging my face as I looked skyward yes, much like confetti, snow was falling, the winds howled and just then, I was jolted awake from my short nap, sitting in my favorite chair on the back porch. I took a sip of my tepid tea, and watched in awe, as a single oak leaf floated down from a high tree across the yard, drifted and landed in the garden. I sprinted out the door and fetched my prize and just then, holding it high to the sky, large snowflakes began to fall and I laughed like a schoolboy, walked into the house and placed my leaf upon the fireplace mantle. Although it's been years since that first leaf touched my heart, each October, I look forward to the "Games" and running to catch and display my winning leaf. A Comely Dare In the waning hours just before the dawn, where the Sirens sing their shrill serenades. We grasp the rigging spying jagged crags; old tales whispered of the Rock of Mermaids. Where women of beauty slap their longish tails, comb seaweed like hair, and sing sonnets to entice. An echoing lullaby and a flirtatious comely dare. Call those lonely sailors and mariners to pay a price. Dead there upon the rocks they will certainly be found, shrieking revenant pleas as Mermaids giggle and wave. Sailing on into calmer seas, balmy winds carry us away. Just 'Round the Corner A dog barks at the unseen the stench of diesel from buses the blues waft from open windows giggling children play on sidewalks two policemen walking their beat yellow cabs bring military men deliver heartbreaks to families flags displayed upon the street tears fall, just 'round the corner. Of Mountains and Meadows A solitary voice whispers in the dark of a meadow. Small swift orbs of light appear floating everywhere. The moon begins to crest atop mountains in the east wildflowers stand proud as bright fireflies dart all about. Snapdragon or buttercups brush my hollow cheeks. swallow your feted elation, as meadows bathe in light behold a rising faery of the morning upon pinkish clouds awash in dancing shadows through, grass, pine, and oak. Reflecting the Mediterranean, her mountains and meadows.
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