When My Baby Sleeps

magpromptbekkies

When My Baby Sleeps

When my baby sleeps she mirrors an angel.
Arms folded over her ample bosom
hands clasped
as if in prayer.
Full lips, almost
moving with her words.
Her face-
so gentle, unadorned and innocent
her breath quiet and even.
Only the shadows around her show movement.

They silhouette my sleeping angel
malevolent and churning
when she sleeps they let her rest.

When she wakes she resembles a banshee.
Arms raised and breasts shaking in their quake
hands formed like claws
long fingernails vindictively,
cutting.
Voluptuous lips pulled back
in a grimace
over that vomitous mouth
as she becomes like the bean chaointe
and the wailing starts.

When my baby sleeps she mirrors an angel.
Let’s not wake her just yet.

© RebekkaSanchez2015

Magpie Tales 291

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Negative Spaces

pollock jackson black flowing no. 8 1951

Negative Spaces

I went to see some abstract art at SOMA.
A huge tan canvas
caught my eye
full of angry looking black strokes.
A brush used like a knife
slashing the surface
no staying within the lines here.
I felt a turmoil from it
which I couldn’t put it into words.
The blank spaces within the artwork
trapped, then set free
yet seeking escape from the stark controlling lines.
What the artist couldn’t put into the painting
was plainly there to feel.

© RebekkaSanchez2015

Magpie Tales 290

The Cook

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The Cook

Tomatoes, potatoes carrots and peas
we have leeks, mushrooms and parsley
all I need is to check the meat
sit down, relax, it’s time to eat.

Onions, bay leaf, salt and pepper
just enough to season well
we have the bread and the table’s set.
Now what ingredient did we forget?

You said my cooking was divine
you’d trade your right arm for a taste
well I will serve it on a platter
an arm or a leg it doesn’t matter.

The meat is falling off the bone
too bad, you won’t enjoy this feast
that’s right your fate is firmly sealed
as I sip wine with my lovely meal.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

The End

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The End

Hat crammed onto my head I walk
the streets. Nowhere to go now we have failed
ourselves for the last time. Elbowing through dirty
crowds of lost souls, I trip over a warm groaning body.
Sweating and feeling not unlike a corpse myself
I contemplate the glaring truth; we are all
beyond help. Finally, I spy the
park! Amazingly it’s
quiet here most
seek the
churches.
On my
bench
I sit
alone.
I can
see
the
end
from here
as I watch the mushroom cloud blossom.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

Shells

bekkiespoemshell

Shells

Growing in concentric rings
lining of lustrous nacre
lives the wily Nautilus
in the oceans many acres.

In his buoyant gas-filled shell
he can go most anywhere
if you are something good to eat
his tentacles will find you there.

Like his nemesis under the sea
a submarine moves silently
atomic powered and made of steel
and ready to act violently.

In their buoyant gas-filled shell
the soldiers in his belly ride
hungry not for food or mate
it searches oceans far and wide.

Similar but not the same
both Nautilus live in the sea
one a gentle creature living
from the other you might flee.

© RebekkaSanchez2015

Magpie Tales 289

 

Nobody Knows

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Nobody Knows

You liked him on Facebook
you sent him a Tweet
you follow on Google
in chat rooms you’ll meet.

You re-share his posts
and know him quite well
but he has a secret
that he’ll never tell.

For he’s a real dog
and he’s fooled everyone
and no one will guess
cause his secrecy’s won.

So next time you see him
he will not disclose
online he’s a dog
but nobody knows.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015