my shadow’s fingers draw far into the corners that my hands can’t know. Antonia Sara Zenkevitch Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com Alt Text for the image above: a grey panelled room with low hanging light-shade and wooden chair near an empty hearth. There are indistinct disembodied shadows, including of splayed hands.
Category: Sense-scape
Sense-scape touches upon the physical world; the taste, the feel, the scent, sight and sound, the body in nature and our access & experience.
Strange Sights
I do not get out as often as I’d like due to severe mobility & health issues. Seeing the world from up on high, complete with aerial views of early autumn hills and human habitats, is a rare thing for anyone, especially those with special access needs. Last weekend I went on a cable car…
Forgotten Eve
Hear this modern Eve,
where the apple slices sharp
the wax drowns new wicks
swallowing the knife of words
watch a candle cut to flame,
choaked, a blessing came
with an absence of honey;
uttered without tune
where weary throats broke quavers
on past moons, hope a sliver.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
A Billion Raindrops
A billion raindrops
fall like all the promises
you forgot you made,
cold, tired, soaked to my bones
I seek trumpets in the storm.
Saffron Shores (art and poem)
Thieve me into relief or sleep,
Steal me onto far saffron shores
Where Valerian seas beget
Rests thirstier than nutmeg thoughts
Thieve me into relief or sleep.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Equinox
Equinox,
wets paint for sunsets
stroking sky
stretching age,
etching gold with eager hands,
gilt votives in shades.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Blue Eons (Anagram Verse)
blue eons observe
lone silence’s ire,
in it yells a curse
to rile oceans;
to rouse bile in us,
yet envoys arise
to yearn,
to learn
in soul’s urn
obverse to ruin;
converse orations
annul bribes;
no absolutions
in love’s alibis
yet our orisons
vault bliss; …
The Bend
…life; potential; vitality,
such strength for the able-bodied,
I choose a bolder path you see,
or perhaps ‘choice’ was eroded
by kinks in my neurology
and the way my cells encoded
in ‘abnormal’ biology; …
Pi; a tanka
submerged origins
stretch this jazz of blues to gust
bright brine-washed being;
I see clouds and wings trace Pi
sweeping up a cyclone’s tail.
Paper Towers
Lured
They wait
As lies fold
Up a fortress
Of paper towels
To fight the furling rain,
Gusting like old promises
To race the edge of reasoning,
We are the blurring syntax written,
Ruched towers tear the torrents beginning.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch 