"Adrift in a Christmas Snow Globe" By Ken Allen Dronsfield As I gaze through the glass of the snow globe. My mind drifts away and I find myself there skating. Through the snow flakes, and the bonfire’s glow mugs of cocoa with tiny marshmallows waiting. The vision of my girlfriend, wearing her red coat with … Continue reading Christmas Contest: 3rd Place Poetry
Into the Whipsaw
By Ken Allen Dronsfield In this world of heartless consumption waste of human life to the whipsaw; children shot dead while at recess never did so little mean so much then when two deer in a field saw you and you saw them nothing else mattered... as neither blinked. self-righteous take aim. the pious … Continue reading Into the Whipsaw
With Honesty Comes Rain
By Ken Allen Dronsfield As horse hooves pound upon hard clay and rock trail dusty, water stained curtains move in gentle humid breezes. Thunder reigns o'er the lands off in the distant mountains here, it's quiet, tough to breathe spiders tiptoe across the table. Glistened tears fall in puddles swollen red eyes pray for … Continue reading With Honesty Comes Rain
Tickled By The Fire
By Ken Allen Dronsfield I've thrown myself into it; thrown myself in. And the fire has been lovely. It's flames jump, and tickle, leaping toward impossibility, beautiful stars above. So if today, my body is dragged down, the courage which hurled me into the heart of the flame has smoldered into mere embers. The knowledge … Continue reading Tickled By The Fire
Sonnet 103, Rose and Thistle
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 … Continue reading Sonnet 103, Rose and Thistle
With Charcoal Black Version III
By Ken Allen Dronsfield Today I'll travel to the swamp and woods to do a little artistic sketching for those painting projects during the warm summer. As I leave with my thermos and bag, a lone cardinal sits by the empty feeder, snail trails arrive in the freshly tilled garden. Gentle rains beget fresh greener … Continue reading With Charcoal Black Version III
Academy of the Heart And Mind 