Poetry: Ken Allan Dronsfield

Ken Allan Dronsfield
Untied Laces

I sketched your face in
the midst of a bleached sky
touching the cool wet sands
barefoot and loaded tonight.
A great inhale lights the pipe
wait for the rising harvest moon
ballerinas twirl on the sea wall
faces expressionless; eyes cold.
I feel my raspy breath drift away
in foggy wispy ocean tendrils
guided by ghosts of privateers,
their rapiers hang off leather belts.
Swale grass on sand dunes quiver
untied laces fly about in the winds.
First, you're here; then gone away;
you’re bright; then dull and dying.
The fading gray light disappearing,
as tears are lost in the falling rain,
wretched days full of fears are here
as I'm sinking into the charcoal sketch
a note left in crayon sits upon the dash
justification is simply a lost wasted life
emergence from the closet to pillories;
untied laces, now melting into the sea.
Sonnet 18, Lucidity of Life

I shall bid the gray darkness farewell
greeting the dawn with a resounding joy.
feel the warmth of the Sun upon my face;
hear the awakening birds sing their songs.
make a pact...and embrace silence this day.
view a world with muted tranquility
the heart covets all that whispers to me.
Like a great oak, I welcome all seasons,
accept the daily suffering with grace.
The good days, like sunshine, will help you bloom.
Days of storms, make you strong and resilient.
I rise and inhale the breaking red dawn;
dew on the grass sings lovely songs to me;
the beauty in one's heart shall guide the way.

Pinkish Eventide

As the sky turns from a light gray to pink
streetlamps now hang albeit a fallow pale
Bluebirds gather upon the wires and poles
the morning sun makes feathers feel warm
coot and cormorant soar down the beach
white terns hastily skim along wave crests
large fishing boats race to leave the harbor
the wakes slap against the granite seawalls
couples now stroll barefoot on wet sands
clouds tinted with red-orange glow float by
sound of cars build as the town awakens
sipping hot coffee, breakfast is now calling.


Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, prize winning poet and fabulist from New Hampshire, now residing on the plains of Oklahoma. Ken is a proud member of the Poetry Society of New Hampshire. He has three poetry collections, "The Cellaring", 80 poems of light horror, paranormal, weird and wonderful work. His second book, "A Taint of Pity", contains 52 Life Poems Written with a Cracked Inflection. Ken's third poetry collection, "Zephyr's Whisper", 64 Poems and Parables of a Seasonal Pretense, and includes his poem, 'With Charcoal Black, Version III', selected as the First Prize Winner in Realistic Poetry Internationals 2018 Nature Poem Contest. Ken won First Prize for his Haiku on the Southern Collective Experience Haiku Contest. He's been nominated three times for the Pushcart Prize and six times for the Best of the Net, 2016-2018. Ken loves writing, hiking, thunderstorms, and spending time with his cats Willa and Yumpy.

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