Light Upon the Ledges – Poetry Collection by KEN ALLAN DRONSFIELD

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.


 

Pouting Roses

 

ignited burning hearts

now adrift coolish stare

the journey ends finding

sad petals and pouting roses


 

Adieu

 

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, Bio Pic (2)

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 JournalIndiana Voice Journal, The Literary Hatchet Magazine, Belle Reve Journal, Peeking Cat Magazine, Tuck Magazine, Dead Snakes, Bewildering Stories and many others.

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