Bitter and sweet,
Zest, pith and pip,
The sun on my back,
The tang on my lips,
In wide blue horizons
I silently slip,
In old cobbled streets
Where kind strangers live,…
Category: Heart-lands
Heart-lands explores core of experiences of love and friendship and self-worth. It is a ‘home’ we return to and a place we travel from. Poems celebrating a life or rite of passage are ‘heart-land’ and ‘soul scape’.
Poems looking at peace, conflict transformation and our relationship to one another and earth is also found in this category as well as others such as soul-scape.
40 Fragments
I cannot count them, these broken pieces of possibility.
But they haunt me, oh, days cantering by they do,
and I am whirlwind in a storm box,
High Street Quatern:
I know the high street’s doing great, Why would you require our custom? Don’t try to mend that broken lift, It’s forever since it broke down. I know your workers’ jobs are safe; I know the high street’s doing great, Why would you let me look inside? Bar all ‘disabled’ doors with crates. Make…
Out of Necessity (Prompted by Cubby)
A hero is born not from the laurels Of glory but from deep necessity, Each hero’s born in the midst of quarrels But rises above them to abhor ills, A sense of justice their actions instill, There’s no label for their identity; A hero is born, not from the laurels Of glory, but from deep…
To Speak
I have learnt to speak;
I have learnt to speak in silence when my voice was gone,
in mimes, memes and gesticulations with one arm,
I have learnt to speak in rhythms when my limbs were
free,
I have learnt to speak within the forms my body allows me,
I learnt to speak again,
again,
again,
again,
….
if and when
my voice is gone
as voices one day do,
when they speak of all I’ve done
I hope they’ll say this too;
I learnt to speak.
To Remain Me
To Remain Me I paint freedom past restrictions, Admiring the contradictions My love sees creativity Within my skill to remain me, Gone are the forms I knew before, Yet I’m still a dancer at core; I dance with words now, to be free Within my skill; to remain me, He speaks of how I master…
To All I was Before (poem)
I often speak of all I was before, Those ghosts carried ever in my casement, Echoing, like the voices of the wars I traversed, yet now I feel displacement, Life in pause, forbidden summits, woods, shores, Shops, parties, pavements, Vanished continents, consonants, confidence, The family, colleagues; friends I see no more; Those ghosts carried…
Indices
I write of lives in indices, Scenes sketched within margins Of halts for breath in sentences, Of freedom in parenthesis In our secret garden, I write of lives in ink; Hers inscribed in water In quiet apocalypse Others would call order, I write of lives, Their curve in words At boundary lines To…
Inspiration Porn
I’m not your inspiration porn For you to sensationalize As your source of motivation For your more abled-bodied lives, Not your inspiration Or measure of your skill, A Paralympian Nor life uncured to kill, I’m not your porn, Objectified For you to own Or criticize, Not your Provocation Your stimulus or spur;…
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch 