Crow calls, silver scented chaos on a wing, the first bird in our fable, servant of the eternal treated like a lesser thing, she has pierced the veil of remembering, sky-scattered ash, forlorn tales warning of apocalypse, past or forward-telling; projectiles of perhaps; of gross human failing; humanity’s mishaps, of greed, and taking, wings flap…
Tag: free form
Guarded; (Thursday Photo Prompt #writephoto)
once, I would have scaled it, that guardian stone of hidden realms, mountain giants could just lift it, yet I’d be faster than most elves; with wolf’s heart and unbalanced feet, though many times I tripped and fell, I’d battle boundaries few could see; my barriers invisible, I’d climb after I tumbled, I carried on…
Dear Antisemite; a poem for Holocaust Memorial Day
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…
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,
MRI x2
“Breathe in, breathe out, hold your breath,
breathe normally,”
a recorded voice instructs,
reiterates
as other sounds pierce my heart,
I feel entombed
staring at that small black hole
as I comply, …
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. …
Candles & Questions
One of two poems:
we lit candles after
their names and tales on our ears
flames flickering, like souls.
In black and white
You may not see our battle scars,
but know this; we are not victims
we are this world’s warriors.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch 