The poem below is the first of a collection it has taken me a long time to share. I’ve not been sharing my work broadly for a while, both for health reasons and the sense of being silenced. Enough said on that one. This Holocaust Memorial Day I am sharing this. It is actually being…
To Celebrate Life
I eat nuts with coats hard to crack, learn to peel a pomegranate, knowing there are things unknowable; inedible, like shells, but beneath that are healthful wonders that shine as pearls, such are the deepest mysteries wrapped in garments that help shield the world, I eat soft fruits with hard, uneaten pits, sweet ripe plums,…
One Drop
One droplet in the green; the clear looking glass of eons yet to be seen, and eons of lost past; of has, was and could have been are caught within a glance; a glimmer; a projection, a globe’s circumference in each drop, queendoms, their union and divergence within neurons and electrons of those two coiling…
Songs of Poppies Revisited
This Remembrance Sunday I am attaching links to two past posts of mine. On this day I recall all those who died or were injured in body or mind in wars they had no part in starting. I honour those who stood and fell against the forces of fascism from whatever country they hailed from. …
Poverty Lessons. — Denaya Rose
I learn to sleep on an air mattress in the one-bedroom apartment I share with my mother. We don’t have any real furniture yet, but we do have a space to call our own. There’s no overbearing or intoxicated male presence to tell us what to do, and for the first time in my life, […]…
CHAPTER 5: Poggle, George & The Dragon
Originally posted on The Library of Lost Wands:
The Library of Lost Wands, Epic Potterverse Fanfiction set in 1919 by Antonia Sara Zenkevitch, Disclaimer Go to Index of Chapters The next day began in a subdued mood, but as The Eagle chugged out of Paris at 4 o’clock the grey dawn drew its first rays…
Ghosts Rising
Ghosts are rising this Halloween;
Unrestful wraiths mourn us,
The veil is getting thin between
These whiles and the bygone,
Souls speak on the squall,
Hearts become funeral drums;
Ghosts are rising this Halloween,
The fallen of past conflicts warn
Of further turbulence to come,
Shadow Fingers
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.
Valcamonica; the last mountain (#WritePhoto)
August 2015 travelogue: Valcamonica, Italy The last mountain I climbed was a place I saw art that has spoken to our kin over millennia. It still offers a signpost to wonderers and wanderers today. I won’t kid around, the journey was hard; I could hardly walk, even then, plus my asthma wasn’t under control but…
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…
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch 