Social Justice Poetry

Ken Allan Dronsfield

Death on the Wire | A Social Justice Poem by Ken Allan Dronsfield

A smoky haze rising higher,
smell of hell, in refugee fields,
dead chatter; stuck in the wire,
ode to the brave, body shield.
Earth explodes in trees of dirt,
knife won’t cut, the metal strand
grips my legs, to numb, to hurt
strangling 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 barbwire.

Shattered | A Social Justice Poem by Ken Allan Dronsfield

(Requiem for the Abused)

Those voices glaring,
forever blaring
at the meek and mild,
man, woman or child.
Tears on the cheek,
from the strong or the weak.
A dead-eye stare,
will never share
that happiness evading,
a life’s essence fading.
Drifting off the track;
the leather belt snaps,
a crack then a slap.
And the voices glaring at the meek
or mild, all the shattered lives
left bleeding and reviled.
Pushing through the veil,
hear hollow voices wail.
Echoing from above,
absent home without love.
The scars heal for sure,
the innocent heart still pure.
Let the lonely waif sing
his song of peaceful things.
But voices continue glaring
at the meek and mild craving
the zest for escape on
a blackened raven’s wing.