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

Self-Sustaining

To sustain the self Is fraught with complexities, I remain alive.   Hello All, I hope you have enjoyed your Sunday! I’ve not been physically or mentally able to write or blog post this last fortnight. I won’t bore you with all the details but it is due to a domino effect of connected flare-ups…

Our Stories

Happy Sunday Everyone! I hope you’re having a good day? If not there’s still time. This is one of two posts for this week’s ‘Sustainable Sunday’. Its sister post is full of hope and positive action. Do you have a personal story to share about trying to live more sustainability? I’d love to hear, celebrate…

One Haiku of Sky & Water

  gateways of water no human knows their locks; lochs, clouds, creviced realms.   Antonia Sara Zenkevitch

The Moon Child

(*trigger warning – depicts a dystopian future) Do not ask where the ancestors are in this great, lonely city, for they are all around. Do not ask where the guardians of this lone child are, for they are with her every step. They go before her and follow after. They raise her up though she…

Critically

The below was written in a stream of conscious, as part of Linda G. Hill’s SoCS prompt. 

The waters are critically high and overseas semi-arid lands become ever-more dry. Critically, promises were broken, made and then broken, again and again, and again. Critically, the West has outsourced the worst of its pollution and, critically, I know why …

Chronicles

mind cataloging the shifting circumference

and significance

as sentiments deposit sediment

and their sands stretch wide and far,

and it feels i hear every footfall

until all i can hear is thunder

and still air …

The Century Stone

I have stood guardian
Through trials untold
In each frozen season,

Seen empires built and burned,
To those who sought on lonely roads
I have stood guardian,