Ken Allan Dronsfield- Three Poems

The Cellaring

A moldy cold
like a freshly
turned grave.
The smells of
decaying flesh
permeate the
bowels of the
icy basement.
Cobwebs move
in the dead air
a soft whisper
like long Spanish
moss being toyed
with by a gentle
wind upon red
oaks or pecan.
I'm home within
the coolish cellar
humming a sonnet
in my burial dress,
black strap shoes
hair a ghostly mess
a purple lilac purse
and Easter bonnet.

Desperado's Kiss

What distance be the
stars from your heart;
how many sunrise's will
turn into twilight's before
that first desperado's kiss;
how many full Moon's has
your loving soul caressed
since your first breath.

Where does your mind go;
when in the throes of love.
As the demon of hunger
tries to invoke repentance
for a loaf of baked bread,
does your distressed life
exhale its last before the
oven inhaled your dead.

In the chills and thrills of
an evening not forgotten.
Can you repel the worst
of a fleeting wishful thirst.
Now rain melts away your
path through the nebula's
core as you disperse icy
grips with a tenuous roar.

Chasing the Raptor Rev 4

Ghostly shadows soar in exhilarated flight;

forbidden in a life; bequeathed beyond the veil;

Memories burn like a candles flickering light;

Buried within, a soulless raucous fight I'll win.

Rising from the ground; to the clouds I inhale.

Once only strife where a life should've been;

the dream's finally real, I stand ready to begin;

Destiny fulfilled during this sunset at the harbor.

I'll smile for awhile; electric vibes upon my skin.

Now soaring into the mist; Chasing the Raptor.

(Initially Published, www.whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com)

Bio: Ken Allan Dronsfield is a Published Poet and Author originally from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. He enjoys hiking, playing guitar and spending time with his cats Merlin and Willa. His published work can be found in Journals, Magazines and Blogs throughout the Web.