Into the Whipsaw – a poem by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Into the Whipsaw

In this world of heartless consumption
waste of human life to the whipsaw;
children shot dead while at recess
never did so little mean so much
then when two deer in a field
saw you and you saw them
nothing else mattered…
as neither blinked.
self-righteous take aim.
the pious obey at the sight
non-believers glare but afraid
Little flakes of shimmering light,
Admiring all in the wafting shade,
Stars peek and rave in the delight;
stellar was how a twilight was made,
As all eyes peer at the lightened cross.

 

Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, poet, and fabulist. He resides in Seminole Oklahoma, USA. He works full-time on his poetry, dabbling in digital art. Ken’s poem, “With Charcoal Black, VIII” was selected as the First Prize Winner in a recent major Nature Poetry Contest from Realistic Poetry International.

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