By Ken Allen Dronsfield
The instrument of a torture is said
to be born of a rose and thorns at dawn
evil briers or brambles grasping tightly
a deep snort of peppermint snuff to calm.
Alight on a box of reddish apples
or resting on a bed of fresh thistle
working knives always sharper with the sun
grieviously pray on a boars head.
raw sand and salt of ravaged ocean rocks
the truth seamless or strewn in a tempest
albeit whispers speak shallow of plot.
cherish as the old man’s limping footsteps
do quickly scuff along hither and yon
while gathering the red rose and thistle.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, poet and fabulist originally from New Hampshire, now residing on the plains of Oklahoma. His work can be found in magazines, journals, reviews and anthologies. He has two poetry books, “The Cellaring” a collection of 80 poems of light horror, paranormal, weird and wonderful work. His newest book, “A Taint of Pity”, Life Poems Written with a Cracked Inflection, are available through Amazon.com. He is a three-time Pushcart Prize and twice Best of the Net Nominee for 2016-2017. Ken loves writing, thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night and spending time with his cats Willa and Yumpy.
Academy of the Heart And Mind 