An enigmatic poem about a person that was, exclusively for Different Truths.
Has anyone seen me? I know I used to be here,
perhaps there, somewhere. I feel so lost, much like
bones withering away in red clay. But in a breeze.
I feel like a cat nine tail, standing straight and tall
then bent over in marsh winds waving to all at the lake,
lost fantasies rise skyward. Passion blooms; life après.
Depth of a cranky shade of listless yet excited bliss.
Blessed by the thoughts and prayers of strangers, love
enhanced by a whisper. But has anyone seen me?
Elders cry for the children, begging souls to return home.
Keep of life’s clock, turn the key and spike the pendulum
humming a sonnet in rhyme. Am I a musical note?
As the demons and hunger invoked sincere repentance
for thieving loaves of bread. Whilst all distressed lives calmly
exhaled their last before the hot ovens inhaled the dead.
Into a grave with 7 million others! I feel the chills of those
evenings long forgotten, repent your worst, tarry to knit your
burial throw, but please, look into the corner, next to the bin.
Perhaps I’m there, or just maybe, I’m in the dybbuk box!
Photo from the Internet
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran and prize winning poet from New Hampshire, he now resides on the plains of Oklahoma. Ken is a member of the Poetry Society of New Hampshire. He has three poetry collections, “The Cellaring”, “A Taint of Pity”, and “Zephyr’s Whisper”. Ken has been nominated three times for the Pushcart Prize and six times for the Best of the Net. He loves life, his family and his cats Willa and Yumpy.
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