Thanks to Sue Vincent for this week’s #Writephoto prompt. Not done this in a while but glad to be back. So here goes: Wolf fur sky, Ink scratched branches reach From golden Fallow curves Where rays write green ligaments Into lead and white. Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
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.
Our Mothers’ Mother
Our mothers’ mother
speaks within the ancestry
of bees and flowers.
The Last Free Form Friday
Life will use the air abused by ill words as offerings for trees who paint our futures with their leaves. Happy Friday Everyone, This post is later than originally planned but as a Brit going through the chaos of Brexit whilst processing a few things in my own life, I’m going to forgive myself. …
Returning
sweetened seeds in sheaths,
spring’s tunic dressed in
last sun’s poppies,
twelve moon pirouettes since
we consumed these;
Sand Treads
Tracking the lost ones I listen to the desert where the sands tread us. Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Dragon Thaw
The winter stretched like Ouroboran tail,
Thus, the rider sought the dragon
Iron Scale beneath her bridge
“we need your breath of fire
For life to prevail,”
The rider said.
One roar,
Spring.
Hope, Recycled
a revolution in growing, cooking, packing a packet of crisps, who’d think it; a salty snack could save the world in small ways; solutions from re-thinking how crisps were packaged, no plastic, each compostable packet eco, logical, inside, taste, all natural, renewable energy supply, well grown ingredients from one locality blended…
#FreeForm Friday Round up and Prompt
Hello all, Below is the wonderful round-up of last week’s #FreeFormFriday prompt, exploring the art of free form and combined form. Many thanks to contributors. Apologies for being slightly delayed today, life overtook events. From now on I’ll be running this fortnightly. If you would like to join in I’d love to hear from…
The Blooming
Transparent petals
Offer nectar to the wings,
Stalks direct the globe.
Note to Self
A wry note to self; when the words swim before you stop typing, just stop. Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch 