by Ken Allan Dronsfield
"To gaze into her eyes
was to embrace divine love.
To feel the touch of her hand on mine,
was to know I should never let go.
To kiss her sweet lips was to feel
the softness of an Angels wing.
To hug her each day convinced my
heart it was ignited and aglow.
To have her now gone from my life
has left a hollowness deep inside.
The numbness made me say,
I just couldn't beg her to stay.
With her image imprinted on my brain,
I'll await that long final ride.
My heart forever shattered,
as the tears fell away."
A Pipe, Pint and Book
"And there's a crook by the brook;
covered cape of black and red.
I walk the shadowed path, side to side I look.
The highwayman sleeps; under the oak is his bed.
I hear noise in the brush; raspy cough and groans.
Walking ever faster, towards the town I rush.
Hearing quickened steps behind, now shaking in me bones.
I crouch by a pine, hiding low with a hush.
'Come hither my friend', he calls from the path.
I see him there, a long blade in hand.
If I should answer, I'll surely feel it's wrath.
He wants my pence; he'll get only sand.
He turns and leaves; this crook by the brook;
I'm now feeling safe, in twilight's last gasp.
I scurry to town, for a pipe, pint and book.
Now dreading the walk home; a loaded piece I clasp."
The Deer Crossing
"The sun slowly dipping in the western sky;
the winds are fair, the pine boughs tossing.
From peaceful beds the meek and shy,
wander down to the river; time for 'the crossing'.
To the fields above, to graze for a meal;
dancing through the wheat forever watching.
Listening to the Jay; alerting all with zeal.
Almost twilight now, time to make 'the crossing'.
The squirrels have disappeared, gone to their beds.
An Owl glides silently upon graceful beating wings.
The night animals stir, ready to be fed.
We're halfway there, almost done with 'the crossing.
The water is cool; perhaps just a little drink.
We move to the field, quiet and listening.
It's safe and we move on, the sky a rosy pink.
We'll browse til dawn, and then make another crossing."
Cheapen the Wait
"Death moves along
with a fiendish gait;
as destiny stalks all
whilst preparing your fate.
Time draws near
for the scythe to appear;
Hear that wailing yowl
while trembling with fear.
Absolve your loss through
a blackened shadowed cross;
You treasure all the hate;
then cheapen the wait;
you drift through delusional lies
and distorted pious faith ;
The Reaper awaits his prize
just beyond your frantic cries."
Initial Publication by: http://duanespoetree.blogspot.com/
I've sensed a special wildness
that is you within my dreams;
I've endured the flaming dagger
piercing my heart with intense passion;
I've tasted those tantalizing and
breathless moments in the sleeping hours;
I now know whom I want beside me
for the rest of my days ... and nights;
So perhaps one evening when your heart
burns an inferno and curiosity finds you
longing to touch, taste and experience
those desires kept shackled.
You shall finally be freed
from those bonds and inner demons,
consummating in a fiery midnight fantasy;
and perhaps then ... you shall finally think of me.
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