August 19, 2017

Sleep With Dead Grass by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Chill in my tired bones
steamy breath follows
crispy red apples drop
oak firewood stacked,
walk the dying fields
sleep with dead grass.
Colored leaves release
spinning down to ground
unpacked winter clothes
fill dresser and closets,
walk the dying fields
asleep in dead grass.
Autumn's song plays
a freshness of spirit
feel a harvest solstice
life's circle goes round,
I walk a dying field,
sleeping in dead grass.

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a published poet who was nominated for The Best of the Net and 2 Pushcart Awards for Poetry in 2016. His poetry has been published world-wide in various publications throughout North and South America, Europe, Asia, Australia and Africa. Ken loves thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night, and spending time with his cats Willa, Hemi and Turbo. Ken's new book, "The Cellaring", a collection of haunting, paranormal, weird and wonderful poems, has been released and is available through He is the co-editor of two poetry anthologies, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze and Dandelion in a Vase of Roses available from

1 comment:

  1. Really wonderful to read, nice of you to share. Greetings.


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