Black Apple

Black Apple

The exotic woman extended her hand
in it was a black apple
the black apple was a rarity
he had never seen one
the temptation to take it was powerful.
She took out a bejeweled knife
quickly slicing the fruit open
removing one perfect slice.
He winced as he watched the juices run
the whiteness inside the cut was erotic
it caused a strong stirring in his loins.
In an instant, he was upon her
but it wasn’t her body he dominated.
She lay dead as he examined his treasure
already the vulnerable white flesh
bruised and tasting sour.
His melancholy was ripe
as he fled defeated an utter failure.
In his passion and haste, he never found out
where to find the black apple.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

I used some dream meanings I found for black and apple. Written with my friends at The Sunday Muse #99 for this image prompt.

Also linking up with dVerse~Poets Pub for Meet the bar and listen to lists. I often do this for my poetry. For this image, I used a list of words from my search of dream meanings for this poem and everything dropped into place. Now I have a lot of reading to catch up with!

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River Revival

River Revival

Rest your troubles by the water
when your whole world goes astray
just enjoy the trip down river
as your troubles wash away.

Dragonflies dance on the surface
as the fish bob up to feed
watch the ripples moving outward
and forget about your needs.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

Artist unknown.

Trying to join in writing and sharing poetry again with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub for open link day. Took some time off and trying to get back into it with a share from the past.

Midnight Kata

Midnight Kata 

It is midnight at the Dojo
and a lone figure is spotted
he moves as if on invisible strings
worked by a celestial puppeteer-
such fastidious movement.

Slowly circling, ever vigilant
as he spares with the shadows
a Praying Mantis on a leaf
watches with great concern-
in a rustle of silk, he is gone.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Written with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub. The prompt is Unseen Things. My figure (who could be a Ninja) was only seen by a bug in the garden. This is my artwork I animated.

Last Goodbye

Last Goodbye

Every single cell in me
can identify what I lack…
the only man I ever loved.
(Now I can’t win you back!)

A lover like no other
you turned out to be
my extraordinary man…
who saw something, in me.

But now you love her!
I don’t know how I lost…
please forgive me my sins
and this line I have crossed.

Now you’re dead where you lay-
the crime fits like a glove.
But I feel so much better,
“Goodbye now, my love.”

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

I took an older poem that had punctuation to link with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub. I took some time off from writing and am slowly dipping my toes back into the poetry river. I believe in using punctuation and use it in my poems something I started a long time ago when a friend convinced me.

Happiness

Happiness

Happiness is emotional
simple in its beginnings
endorphins fill my brain
muscles relax
others tense
pulling at the corners of my mouth
sounds escape my lips
as childish giggles.

Happiness is addictive
good times amplified
one beaming smile
spreading across many faces
we feel giddy
makes us fall in love
it makes the world go round
it’s better when shared.

Happiness is temporary
we’d like it to last forever
still, it leaves us
without warning
but when we least expect it
someone smiles
and it reminds us
that it’s just around the corner.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Happiness never lasts but that doesn’t mean we’ll never be happy again. We never know what will make us smile. Artwork animated by me.

Written for the prompt happiness with my friends at Poets United and shared with dVerse~Poets Pub for open link night.

They

They

They || always have the last say
they || said so
they || are experts in every field
they || have it better than you
they || have what you want
they || know it all
they || know when you are sleeping
they || know when you’re awake
they || have it all figured out
they || always know the right words
they || always win
they || told me to do it
they || make the rules
they || are reading this now.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

It’s always about “they” but who, or what are they?

Written for open link at dVerse~Poets Pub.

Dead Asleep

Dead Asleep

Every night
my bed
is like a coffin
my body lies dead
asleep
in wait for my demise.

Daylight puddles
near the windowpane
spilling
into the room
splashing
over my face
caught
in a death mask.

Seconds pass
my face
softens
awareness returns
with random thoughts
cobwebs of dreams
swept clean
my eyes
open.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Sleep is so much like death, I often think about it.

The artwork, A Matter Of Life And Death by  Fay Collins is the prompt for today at dVerse~Poets Pub.