The Dyslexic Poet

Dyslexic, yet I

write too much, the same frayed ends,

or should that be ‘to much’ –

you may read it either way;

we write to much the same ends,…

A Billion Raindrops

A billion raindrops

fall like all the promises

you forgot you made,

cold, tired, soaked to my bones

I seek trumpets in the storm.

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.

When Light Hurts

*trigger warnings regarding chronic conditions, including particularly serious ones   Migraine I recognise Sensory disturbance, I’m calmer knowing what it is; My brain   On fire, Waiting For full diagnosis Thinking of Dad’s aneurisms, Anxious,   My sight blurs I am fire and ice Pressures rise Behind eyes; I had brain damage at birth, Now…

To Thrive

the circus

of would-bes and was

held within

hushed chorus

spilling into each other

in needed trust, begin,

Time Coats

February snow,

Crocuses and I make bold;

Time wears many coats

Of blossom, rays, rain, and ice,

Thus, my words will don them too.

 

Antonia Sara Zenkevitch