Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Ken Allan Dronsfield Died Today Chasing the Raptors Through the Nebulae

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.


twisting so
bristle cone
legend grown.
Rock or slag
of boundless
stone crags.
Lifeless eyes
exhale dust
in dried grass.
Rattlers move
ride or hide on
high plains.
Desert chill
breathing still
splintered dry.

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.

Mark Young, Stricken By Hubris, Rollerskates in the Buffalo Herd While Tagging Butterflies

Watermelon Patch

In a morning
landscape in
which every
nutso bird in the

has come to-
gether to gather
in varietal
flocks & shout
down the other

flocks for im-
pinging upon
their territory,
the sound of
Roger Miller

loudly from the
house across
the road that
you can't

rollerskate in a
buffalo herd is
a reminder
that prejudice
is a standard

feature of the
landscape in
cowboy country
such as this
is hereabouts.

Transient amateurs

"We just
crank out the
data," said
the male kick-
boxer coming
out of a period
of secondary
after his last
bout. "It's
the transient

amateurs, who
survey birds,
tag butterflies,
measure sunlight
& study solar
eclipses, that
are the true
artists of this
modern medium
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.