Light Upon the Ledges
Fields in gentle dreams
of focused timelessness.
a sweeper of life’s path,
caretaker of the twilight.
Faeries swim in her well
the trident of our hedges.
Mercy bless Grandmother,
a Light upon the Ledges.
Gentle visions of evenings
walking the lane in summer.
Inhaling the lilacs and roses
capturing essence abloom.
Cat rests by the stone wall,
as I cut some apple wedges
the tea brews the memories;
her light’s upon those ledges.
Clowns Never Die
late night backwater town
house on wheels holds eight
carnival life or a circus dream
apply makeup; the face glows
of happier times a life of fun
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
fought for life, now still by a tree
tell me now that Clowns Never Die.
Strawberry Daiquiri & Silk Roses
motionlessly awake, helpless and heated
desperate for breezes of a coolish content
fans moving air, like that of a hot hair dryer
lazily sit by the pool, watch silk roses frown
ice in the freezer, fruit juice from the frig
rum in the cupboard, blender waits nearby
fresh sliced strawberries in a bowl now rest
sweat on the brow, the mixing time is now
tall glass from the hutch, granny’s best crystal
the noisy whirring is done, a stroke of mastery
walking back to the pool with a sheepish smile
drink my strawberry daiquiri, as silk roses grin.
ignited burning hearts
now adrift coolish stare
the journey ends finding
sad petals and pouting roses
Raindrops of falling magic
spatter upon a metal roof
melodious sleeping tunes
warm tea welcomes tired lips
fluffy pillow and comforter await
carry me to a restful fantasy
pup is fed and candles smolder
slide into dreams, cat at my feet.
To sleep, to sleep; the moon yawns.
the stars softly whisper adieu, adieu.
(First Published, Whispers in the Wind )
Raw Silk and Rapture
Lazy mists envelop this land;
scarlet sky with a serene azure;
working fields of cotton or yam;
adrift within a sun dog’s rapture.
Awkward stare at waltzing ravens
escape aromas; decayed river silt;
prayers come and rise to Heaven
her old wheel spins white raw silk.
A cool breeze blows over the bay,
whisper of meteors from near Orion.
Life in this shack rolls on each day;
strumming the guitar excites the Lion.
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 new poetry anthology titled, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze available at Amazon.com. His published work can be found in reviews, journals, magazines and blogs throughout the web including: Burningwood Journal, Indiana Voice Journal, The Literary Hatchet Magazine, Belle Reve Journal, Peeking Cat Magazine, Tuck Magazine, Dead Snakes, Bewildering Stories and many others.