Death on the Wire
by Ken Allan Dronsfield / March 27th, 2016
A smoky haze rising higher,
smell of hell in refugee fields.
Dead chatter; stuck in the wire
ode to the brave, a body shield.
Earth explodes in trees of dirt,
knife won’t cut the metal strand;
grips my legs, to numb to hurt,
strangling of spirit, in deep sand.
I go for food, to the valley below,
my wife and family are so hungry.
I’ll gladly share all I found there,
just release me from this slavery.
Let me go, captor of my soul,
I wish to breathe; no don’t fire.
Send me back to that bad camp,
don’t leave me in this barbed wire.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran and prize winning poet from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. A proud member of the Poetry Society of New Hampshire, he has five poetry collections to date: 'The Cellaring', 'A Taint of Pity', 'Zephyr's Whisper', ‘The Cellaring, Second Edition’ and ‘Sonnets and Scribbles’. Ken's been nominated three times for the Pushcart Prize and six times for Best of the Net. He was First Prize Winner for the 2018 and 2019, Realistic Poetry International Nature Poetry Contests. He has most recently begun producing Creative Content on his YouTube channel and has had wonderful success sharing his poetry. Ken loves writing, hiking, thunderstorms, and spending time with his cats Willa and Yumpy.
Ken Allan can be reached at
kadfield@gmail.com.
Read other articles by Ken Allan.
This article was posted on Sunday, March 27th, 2016 at 8:01am and is filed under Poetry.
