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by Ken Allan Dronsfield





Upon the Sea



Sailing the seas on

small boats for weeks.

Seeking to live only with

necessities and learning

that what you truly need

to survive is very little;

food, water, clothes and

someone to love, somewhere

whether beside you or in your

heart and dreams.

You learn things that bind us

to the Earth are truly dispensable,

nothing is urgent; only life itself;

it's in the hands of the winds.

The eye's close; body relaxes,

adapting to rhythms of the waves.

The world slowly passes us by,

we feel it adrift, far, far away.

Whilst, we are but a solitary soul

trusting in the hands of Neptune

and the tides and ocean currents

upon the sea,

taking us where we must be. 




a line, (a short blue one)



Specter of Essence



Seasons of query; blood moon sullen

keeper of the corn; coolness of breath

peeking sun warm; misty fogginess lifts.

grass wet with dew; footprints are aplenty.

fresh moldy earth turned by the oxen.

hard sharp edge; pussy willow softness

smells of mint yarrow; thankful for senses

buds burst with sun; lilacs bloomed today.

specter of essence; keeper of the scents

wafting through life; freshness of cut grass

inner core of sulfur; bud of bursting leaves

pious taste of roses; electric with the sun.




a line, (a short blue one)



Diary of Don Juan


I'm in lust with a sky that I've yet to see;

in love with people that I've yet to meet.

Because my darling, I'm a lost nightmare

dressed in the finery of a princely fantasy.

Whilst lonely lips await whetted kisses;

cool hands caress your trembling cheeks.

Time lives for graceless darker dreams;

queen of hearts vivid in a diamond flush.

dressed in red satin, my heart quickens

I feel I'm on a chair with three wobbly legs

where will it lead, to a baseless love bared?

Amnesty now wanton of pious infected liars,

colors flickering as grace and piety ascend

fantasy begets harmony in dreams sighing.

Soft red lips warmed by darting tongues fuel

fires, down deep inside. Rough hands glide

around the full apple bottom, quivers and the

trembles awaken slowly as the blood boils.

Clothes are left where gravity takes them; as

the old squeaking headboard drums it's beat.




a line, (a short blue one)



Of Raging



Your life is your life;

don't be clubbed into submission.

There are ways out;

there is a light somewhere,

it may not be much light,

but it beats the darkness.

Be on the watch as

the masses will offer you chances.

Know them; take them.

you can't beat death, but you

can beat drowning in life...sometimes.

The more often you learn to do it,

the more light there will be for you.

You are a marvelous creation;

your God awaits to delight in your success.

All those before you will test your endurance.

How much do you really want to win it all,

despite confusion or the worst odds?

And know, it will be better than anything

else you could imagine.

If you're going to try, then go all the way.

There will be times you will be alone

with your demons; but know, the night flames

will flicker high lighting your way.

If you can trust yourself, when all others

doubt you; if you can wait, and never

tire of the unending climb. Then rage on;

fight against the dying of your candles;

scratching your way into the twilight!




a line, (a short blue one)






In a kingdom full of lodges

my knights, I could not awaken.

I crave the happy, historic hut

the green green-way gardening.

I am shorn of my chestnut horse

an echo declared, 'weeping willow!'

And so you came gently sauntering.

The trumpet vines glared in orange.

There stood a thorn-less flower child;

who could be more pure of faith?

Eagerly I looked for the walled castle,

but my mind always strays to tipis,

the ingenue brought such sorrow

I threw its ghost into the dungeon.

As I am without my healing ginseng.

'It's that scented mead,' I whispered,

removing the stress from my intent.

"Dilly Dilly", they cried, in homage;

my thoughts went astray to woodlands

somewhat louder than hounds on a fox.

Back, back into my memories receding

I had dreamed of chambers once sharing

but instead you uncovered the ovenware!

The small red maple bowed in the wind,

life shaded in a leaded stained glass window;

Beyond a retro cottage - a little Château.





a line, (a blue one)


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