scrying, warning, being
wars of crimson in reflective
Yet it was peace he sought in this crusade
turning locks of cloud and smoke in air
to glimpse his likeness in the moss
his metal not untarnished,
one sliver of lime light
held within his palms,
a soft glimmer,
a keen prayer
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Another poem inspired by Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt. The image I’ve used is a digital collage incorporating the original photo which can be seen by following the link. I wanted to further explore the idea of the sword acting as a kind of mirror.
Love those last few lines, Antonia.
P.S. thanks for the inspiration, again. I’m loving these surprise photos as prompts. You may have noticed. 🙂
Thanks, Antonia. I have a lot of fun delving into my files for these 🙂
I bet you do 🙂
Beautiful words and beautiful photography! What more could one hope for!! Thank you!
Thank-you! I’m loving your posts too 🙂
Fantastic words and brilliant play on the illustration 💜
Loved the poem in the shape of the sword. Amazing that something that brings destruction can make one yearn for peace.
Thank you, Michele! I think destruction or the possibility of it often carries the mirror of its opposite.
I hear you…
Thanks again, Sue. I’ve been reading some of the other responses to your prompts. One ripple leading to so many creative currents 🙂
Thank you ☺️
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