Poetry: Ken Allan Dronsfield

Release

Without a thought or a word,
she let go of the fear and the judgments;
she let be the opinions of others swarming around her head.
She let go of the indecision within.
She let go of all "of the ‘right’ reasons".
Completely, without hesitation or worry, she let it go.
She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go.
She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go.
She let go of all of the memories that held her back;
of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward;
of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.
She made no promises to let go. She didn’t write about it.
Like leaves falling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort. There was no struggle.
It wasn’t good, and it wasn’t bad.
It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it be.
A small smile came over her face. A light breeze enveloped her.
And the Sun and the Moon shall forever shine…
Because she just let go and let it be.


Winter's Recommence

Safe in the exhale of
a black-capped chickadee.
Chilled beyond reason;
winter shadows creeping.
Consequences paled in
a shimmering twilight palette.
Displaying a solemn presence;
within a covert soulless shiver.
Blisters upon the heart
from a moon's burning desire.
Skip into a mountain meadow
with a lasting frail contentment.
Laughing at the line 'to
the strength of ties that bind'.
A desperation's dance to the
last forgotten romance.
Awaken a dismal decaying
of a carceral chilly grasp.
Waiting for a springtime kiss as
apple blossoms quiver in the wind.


Arbor of Wisteria and Clematis

I reflect upon the lavender Wisteria;
the lilacs and lonely gardenias.
I uncover the grand butterfly bush
Quoth the Nepeta, 'keep to the path'.
Those shrubby pussy willows bloom,
a burning felt deep within the Clematis.
What could be more purely aglow?
Pumpkins sit by bundled corn husks.
Only this and a Thimble-berry pie.
There perched a crow upon the arbor
craving the bi-colored, brag bonnet.
A harlequin colored sky now aflame
The rooster never asked for the time.
Orange bells fall from the trumpet vine,
first touch of frost kisses a naked leaf.
leaves soar and spin in the north winds
shaking the arbor of wisteria and clematis.
(First Published, Poppy Road Review)


Time Slowly Passing

Of shallow labored breaths
a lone kiss in the of predawn,
rattle and hum whispers within,
wishing only sleep during cold times.
Yellowish orbs dart all about trees,
kisses spread from the tip of sprigs
spiraling down into the old garden
I try to reach out and touch them.
My ride takes us through the gates
grass glistens in the carriage-lights
touch of frost left upon a naked leaf
skies of yesterday; dreams of today.
Albino raven's roost in the old cedar
pious penance delivered by rosary.
Moldy smell of freshly shoveled earth
thoughts linger within lofty reflections;
the things that can never be unseen
a taste of solace within old memories.
Prayers answered with a lilac scent
I feel small in this time of my passing
Resurrection Lilies sprouting nearby
fragrant Red Roses whisper to me.
Rest in peace, rest in peace, rest…

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