Contributor: Ken Allan Dronsfield
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I think I died today.
Staring at the bare walls;
a knife, a fork, a bottle and
candle lay before me.
The raucous sounds of blaring horns,
screeching brakes and people shouting;
all rise up from the sweltering streets
below, through my open window.
The smells and hell of the city
permeate the entire room and
the fan in the corner quit a day ago;
but, I think I died today.
I laid on the old mattress,
sweat running down my face.
I dozed off and awoke
in a field of green grass,
with white crosses all about.
I stood and watched friends of old
toss roses of red into the dark hole,
landing upon a casket. I think I'm there,
tucked inside wearing my dark gray suit,
white shirt and hated tie...Oh yes,
I think I died today, I just don't know why.
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Ken Allan Dronsfield is a Published poet/author/digital artist from Oklahoma. He enjoys writing, walks and his cats, Merlin and Willa.
Very profound write. Each of us face our own mortality. Very visionary ink.
ReplyDeleteMany thanks for your wonderful comments....they are truly appreciated!
DeleteI like this one very much; even more so than the first time I saw it. It is an inevitable slide show about to happen; the way you write it is indeed what is in many minds, only you captured it so very poetically. Creativity in every chapter of life.
ReplyDeleteMuch appreciated! Thank you for taking the time to leave this wonderful comment.
DeleteKen,
ReplyDeleteA very moving poem. I have enjoyed seeing your poetry on Whispers the short-lived journal, Poebita Poetry Magazine and one of Michael Lee Johnson's websites (I forget which). I look forward to publishing you in print.
Your friend,
David Fox