A Besieged Mind
A crack in the wall lets in the light from the stars.
Music echos through orbs in the weeping willows.
Dust in tears leave tracks in the fresh fallen snow.
Please Igor, can you give me just a little more light?
Dark holds my candle hostage at twilight's crescendo.
Contemptuous dreams through incessant screaming,
I can't feel strings with my hands of sanded mounds.
Quickly Igor, turn up the bass and let the walls crumble.
Insolent soulless itinerants trap a shard of burning sky.
Toss the aged planets into the blender creating a black
hole of unequivocal despair and treacherous margaritas.
Igor, hit the red button and watch me rise into the nebula!
Jellied stars with glimmering diamonds danced in the night.
Dingy creamy marshmallow giants stomped upon shells
of glowing peanuts long into a harvest on whiskey road.
Light another candle Igor, the night is still wanting her dead.
Remove a black top hat from the parlor rack, white gloves
aside, all these days of triumph and red transfixed illusion.
Waving the black obsidian wand, a magical fantasy exists.
Damn it Igor, I said the top hat, this conjures only clowns~!
As Dead Birds Circled
On a coolish night in late December
an odd stiff breeze was blowing from the North
we sat by the damn with gin and juice while
singing sonnets of warmer days now past.
We sang loudly while the old man strummed then
laughs on the right just as screams echoed left
the levee broke and all drift in the floods.
Cleanse my soul in the fierce muddy waters.
Weeping willows joyously laughed that night.
Tender were the sounds of bare footsteps in
darkness upon the slick moss covered rocks.
Leaves shimmered in a purple twilight as
the levee broke, and tears cascaded down
the breezes died to a whispering chant
windowless walls of tall earth and rock moved
crumbling into the water's great swallow.
Cleanse my soul in the fierce muddy waters.
A thousand eyes watched in a harsh horror
while great birds on the wing circled slowly
the damn broke and music faded away.
church bells rang out, wrapped in misty attire
blistered sacramental pious whimpers.
Quartz crystals resonate a timeless waltz
rust colored waters moved lifeless bodies
while dead birds on the wing circled slowly.
Cleanse our souls in the fierce muddy waters.
The weeping willows just laughed and rejoiced
as the great levee broke; we were still there
singing dirges; dead birds circled slowly;
baptism of souls join fierce muddy waters.
rising skyward; it's raining muddy tears.
An Absent of Present, Version 2
Has anyone seen me?
I know I used to be here,
perhaps there, somewhere.
I feel so lost, gone like
bones in old red clay.
Dust in a strong breeze.
I feel like a cat nine tail,
standing straight and tall
then bent over in marsh winds
waving to all around the lake,
lost fantasies rise skyward.
Passion blooms; life après.
Depth of a cranky shade
of listless yet excited bliss.
Blessed by the thoughts and
prayers of strangers, love
enhanced by a whisper.
But has anyone seen me?
Elders cry to the children
begging souls return home.
Keep of life's clock, turn the
key and spike the pendulum
humming a sonnet in rhyme.
I'm a musical note, sky-born!
As the demons and hunger
invoke sincere repentance
for thieving loaves of bread.
Will all distressing lives calmly
exhale their last well before the
hot ovens inhale your dead?
Into a grave with 7 million others!
Feel the chills of those evenings
long forgotten, repent your worst,
tarry along to knit your burial throw
forgive a fleeting wishful thirst,
look into the corner, next to the bin.
But, has anyone found me yet?
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, poet and fabulist from New Hampshire, now residing on the southern plains of Oklahoma. Ken enjoys music, writing, walking in the woods at night and spending time with his cats Willa, Hemi, Turbo and Yumpy. He has one poetry collection, "The Cellaring" and is Co-Editor/Cover Artist for 2 poetry anthologies titled, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze" and "Dandelion in a Vase of Roses". His work has appeared in Literary Orphans, The Burningword Journal, Scarlet Leaf Review, Black Poppy Review, The Blue Heron, The song is..., EMBOSS Magazine and more. Ken is a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee and twice for Best of the Net 2016-2017. Ken Loves Life!