Walk.
I am hugged by places I will never arrive to,
a castle I have never visited waits for me
Is there anybody?
my shadow and me:
it is used to go fast and precede me
Walk, walk.
Do not press me,
although I may never arrive,
I am on my way
you have settled in
to your plight,
dusted across the surface.
this table used to gleam,
but it has been pass
hand to hand, home to
home, so now we see
the knicks, dents, and
scratches, the wearing of
age that says,
we are not doing this
again next year.
More at http://jddehart.blogspot.com.
A time…
I hear the voice
Of an old friend, calling
Of an old life, luring.
A time of sages
Painting and reminding
Me of the old garage
Where we were resting an’ rumbling…
A time telling me
How we have left, going
Still, to let all who died be
The finely finest voice reminders…
A time inutile
We have left our halcyon days
The joy that would have lasted long still
Died to become a bitter coda to our today…
A time crafting, the voice of love
to my mind
how we used to spend half-
nights, wake and
feel better stronger
everyday, it whimpers.
A time that asks
“Are you happy renouncing
in silence what you were?”
White confidence, I keep
answering ‘I was…!’
winter sunset
listening to the wind
bathing in the rain
spring horizon
reading the will
of a melted snowman
buying a cup of tea
for the homeless man
out in the snow
on a toadstool
childhood dreams bathe
in the warn moonlight
morning dew
saving the bullet
listening to your news
He is master of the dark shape
with the round gray stomach,
and the tendency to charge.
He is like one of them, with large
knuckles.
When he speaks, there is the peace
of trees and shade.
The calm of working with great
creatures of strength.
More at http://jddehart.blogspot.com.
Bending
twisting
deserted.
Windswept
bristle cone
legend grown.
Rock or slag
of boundless
stone crags.
Lifeless eyes
exhale dust
winded grass.
Rattlers move
rise or tried
high plains.
Desert chill
breathing still
splintered dry.
—–
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.
Cold hearts reign
In this unkind world
Empty of sensitivity
But full of criticism
Staring at a screen
Begging for a LIKE
Fake smiles; sexy poses
With a pound of makeup
Don’t be afraid
Show your bare face
You are unique
One of a kind
Show this callous world
What is inside your heart
Not inside your clothes
For you are an example
to young girls who follow.
The space is blue
I see red birds in the fur of a man
yellow clocks wearing hats
are sitting at the table
I spread
burning wings
things are suspended
in doubled dimensions
the sea of colours
shapes reality
There was a slight smell mixed with the wet snow in the night,
The holiday after Christmas Eve gave me peace,
Let my light color heart so moved in reach.
There was a little residual heat with their words of blessing,
Pink as the holiday let us spend pink,
The warm writing was full of spring on wine-green CARDS
just like a smilling face.
Though the snow seemed to have a whimper,
But as long as there was concern between people more than anything.
The moment we hug made me feel,
This was a colorful world given to us by the sages.
Forgetting your old self,
With silence in firmness.
Find new breakthroughs,
Finding new spots of light,
Allow yourself to share the joy.
I will never forget
How your garden looked
It is frozen in time.
A memory I barely remember
I was only two or three
and yet I can still feel
– the grass beneath my feet
– the pebble-covered driveway
– the line of beautiful flowers.
We came when I was sick
from too many marshmallows
driving in the car
the motion made me nauseous.
We came to your backyard
and still I can remember
– the inside of your house
– the bathroom tiled in green
– the piano
– the delicate glass everywhere.
A house of memories
but the yard meant more to me
my first word ‘flower’
encouraged by your garden.
I can still feel the fear
the Bird of Paradise instilled
the orange and black foliage
made me wary.
Thinking that a spider
was hidden there.
More at http://imogenanderson11.tumblr.com/.