pelt in the dark stream,
its chiming distance muting
nadirs and zeniths,
I choose the bright apices
by gravities’ granite lip.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Tag: nature
Appointed (#WritePhoto)
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…
Festivals of Fire and Thaw
candles in earth tell
ancient fables to tree roots
angels whisper “Grow”.
…
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…
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,…
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…
Sustainable Sunday – Wands at the Ready!
wands at the ready
washed with soap in ziplock bags
sent to save wildlife.
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; …
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.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch 