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 cat 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, Scarlet Leaf Review, Indiana Voice Journal, The Literary Hatchet Magazine, 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.
Au Revoir to Summer
patiently, dishes wait in the sink
for hot water and soap to arrive
the cat sits nervously in wonder
when his dinner will fill the bowl
summer sun has left for Florida
chain saws echo through the valley
pumpkin looks pitiful on the porch
wish I was better with the knife.
standing in the back yard alone
watch the leaves gliding down
like paper airplanes here and there
others helicopter spin to the ground.
a sense of sadness now is born.
Au revoir Summer, Bonjour Fall.
and you are still working away
I have only written a bit today
dishes waiting in the kitchen
for my lazy ass to wash and dry
dinner will dirty them once more
as colder days are now on the way.
Mansion of Midnight Wails
a captive glance down the darkened hall
light rays disclosing the stale airborne dust
frisky orbs frolic whilst dancing to the divine
decrepit rose petals lie scattered all about.
a curtsy to the shadow as it moves in respite
laughter erupts from the second floor landing
majestic claw tub sits waiting for the master
as chandeliers swing to whispers in the wind.
wrought iron fences surround the old home
the barn roof collapsed in a storm last March
lilacs and azaleas have long since died but
oaks and pine have remained tall and strong.
distant screams are heard on all hallow's eve
and a cackling of witches as they fly in the sky
changelings fly in the form of a black raven
as children run past grasping bags of candy.
eerie tales of the mansion of midnight wails
as the ghosts dance by the old grand stairs
the mailbox hangs open near the broken gate
the old house breathes and sighs in repose.
Within lofty daily trials
life always in check
gaze at self-made walls
inhale an amnesia haze.
Chastising red milestones
beaten within submissions
artful weaving of whispers
wake from a deeper sleep.
Questioned emotion on ice
travel within a dark compass
where in Hades am I spirited
queries shuffle on downward.
dissected voices in a breeze
breathless inhales unshaken
blowing kisses to a blue nebula
poison barbs on a comet's tail.
Blown away with red leaves,
tincture of orange and yellows
fog clearing in rising sunshine
shaking off that amnesia haze.