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; …
…life; potential; vitality,
such strength for the able-bodied,
I choose a bolder path you see,
or perhaps ‘choice’ was eroded
by kinks in my neurology
and the way my cells encoded
in ‘abnormal’ biology; …
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.
Bone weary; this drama has me soul fatigued; diversions perform faux democracy; facts erased; side-lined. Antonia Sara Zenkevitch a shadorma in grateful response to Colleen Chesebro’s Tanka Tuesday Challenge words to find synonyms for: ‘hobby’ and ‘play’ (alternative text for below photo: an ambiguous graduated grey – a wall or misty window no one…
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…
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.
My favourite quotes have long included “Do not fear death, fear the inadequate life.” Long the unanswerable question that lurks on the edges started roaring loudly.
Where I was once in tranquil calm
Amid the greens, where waters flow
In long-lost summers’ timeless balm,
In soft repose, so long ago …
I love the rain spiral
senses encompassing animation,
satellite clouds, and clouds
displayed in white
in grey telemetry,
You love, the soft rain at night,
cold and warmth, tickle soft matter,
the interplay between pressure,
a means of guiding
receptors
placed in the injured part,
in this work, we fabricate one
love the just, visible,
forecast invisible intensity
from sunset to sunrise,
both play a role,
signals traveling
a spinal radar,
ignoring the pain
we love for the last hour,
signals from the skin;
low-symmetry particles
with shapes, spirals,
spirals, spirals,
yellow altitudes,
fluid, few to overcast
blue, blue, blue
gusts are green,
you, love,
the spiral …
In those tangled threads of gold she has conceived a key, in stories long since told, in the electric codes of cities, sub rosa, wrapped in ribbons, she stands by St. Pauls dome, hers the more secret realms of inner wisdom and imagination for she is our unknown. Antonia Sara Zenkevitch With…
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Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
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