I Think I Died Today
I think I died today.
Staring at the bare walls;
a knife, a fork, a bottle and
candle lay before me.
The sounds of blaring horns,
screeching brakes and shouting;
echo from sweltering streets below
through my shaded open window.
The smells and hell of the city
permeate the entire room and
the fan in the corner just quit;
but...... I think I died today.
I laid there, on the old mattress,
sweat running down my face.
I dozed off for a bit, and awoke
in lovely fields of green grass,
with white crosses all about.
I stood and watched friends of old
toss roses of red into the hole of
darkness, landing upon a casket.
I think I'm there, tucked inside
wearing my dark gray suit,
white shirt and hated 70's tie...
Oh yes, I died today,
I just don't know why.
Rock or slag
in dried grass.
ride or hide on
Chasing the Raptor
My ghostly shadow soars, an exhilarated flight;
forbidden in a life; bequeathed beyond the veil;
Memories burn away like a nebula's fiery light;
Rising from the ground; to the clouds I inhale.
Once only strife where a life should've been;
Destiny fulfilled during this sunset at the harbor.
I'll smile for awhile; electric vibes upon my skin.
Now soaring into the mist; Chasing the Raptor.
Bio: Ken Allan Dronsfield is a Published Poet and Author originally from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. He enjoys 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 Journals, Magazines and Blogs throughout the Web including: Indiana Voice Journal, Belle Reve Journal, Peeking Cat Magazine, Dead Snakes, Bewildering Stories and many others.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
In a morning
nutso bird in the
has come to-
gether to gather
flocks & shout
down the other
flocks for im-
the sound of
loudly from the
the road that
rollerskate in a
buffalo herd is
is a standard
feature of the
such as this
crank out the
the male kick-
out of a period
after his last
& study solar
are the true
artists of this
of combat re-
Lares et Penates
Hubris strikes me down. Or,
more precisely, a cold; but I was
boasting only a few weeks ago
how the winters here were warm,
& now there are twenty degree
differentials between day &
night & I am dosed with
aspirin & vitamins. Unwilling
to write, poetry anyway, in case
I end up trolling down long
gloomy corridors of introspection
& self-distrust. Baroque replaced
by Berocca. Oh Marienbad, why
hast thou forsaken me? An
email from Jukka comes to the
rescue. We discuss detective stories.
Mark Young's most recent books are Bandicoot habitat & lithic typology, both from gradient books of Finland. An e-book, The Holy Sonnets unDonne has just come out from Red Ceilings Press, & another e-book, For the Witches of Romania, is due out from Beard of Bees.