Three Poems by Ken Allan Dronsfield: "A Comely Dare," "The Long White Path," and "Of Sky and Blood."

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a Published Poet and Author originally from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. He enjoys the outdoors, playing guitar and spending time with his cats Merlin and Willa. He is the Co-Editor of the new Poetry Anthology titled, "Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze" available at Amazon.com. His published work can be found in Journals, Magazines and Blogs throughout the Web including: Indiana Voice Journal, Belle Reve Journal, Peeking Cat Magazine, Dead Snakes, Bewildering Stories and many others.

 

A Comely Dare

In the waning hours
just before the dawn.
Where the Sirens sing
their shrill serenades.
We grasp the rigging
spying jagged crags;
whispering old tales of
the Rock of Mermaids.
Where women of beauty
slap their longish tails,
comb seaweed like hair,
singing sonnets to entice.
An echoing lullaby and a
flirtatious comely dare.
Calling those lonely sailors;
and mariners to pay a price.
To their deaths upon the rocks
they will certainly be found,
shrieking revenant pleas as the
Mermaids giggle and play around.




The Long White Path
 
I will draw the thorns from your feet,
then we shall walk the long white path.
In life together, like a brother from
my own blood; I will always love you.

I will wipe the tears from your eyes
and show your enemies my wrath.
I'll put your aching heart to rest, and
always carry you through hard times.

I will provide warmth on the darkest nights;
in the moonlit valleys or mountain heights.
For you are my brother; and we shall
walk the long white path ... together.

(First Published in https://electricinthesun)




Of Sky and Blood Rev 2
(Ode to King Richard III)

Temperance of valor,
greet me with shame
steal away with a sword
from my leather baldric.
Grant me a final wish
before ending my life,
place me upon a throne
with defiant sufferance.
Whilst falling in battle
on a muddy bloody field;
although devout of faith,
whom shall pray for me?
Will your great God above
grant forgiveness for my
sinful murderous contempt?
I am a warrior, not a priest,
tiller of soil; nor a follower
guided along pious paths.
Never forget that haunted
shrill of the battlefield cry.
Proclaim your righteous
virtue, sing your victory
song as sky and blood
drain from my pallid eyes.
As the sounds are muffled
and indistinct, I am suddenly
renewed, feeling a rebirth,
if only in an eternal dream.

(First Published, duanespoetree.com)

~Ken Allan Dronsfield