The Door

The Door

It was only a door
so why did I feel
such foreboding?
Surely I’ve approached
one hundred doors like it
in my lifetime.
The knocker looked heavy
and lions guarded it
with somber faces.
The door looked at me
the mail slot
a tense mouth.
A camera eyed me
blankly remote.
Was someone
already watching?

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

Written with my friends at The Sunday Muse #100 for the photo prompt. I usually think of what the picture is and how it makes me feel. In this case, I was thinking about how the door perceived me without human contact.

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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!

Windows

Windows

Watching me
watching you
pupils dilate-
peekaboo!

Eyes that judge
fill with tears
smiling eyes
eyes that fear.

Expressive eyes
when words may fail
kiss with a look
they tell the tale.

Showing the world
how we feel
windows to the soul
secrets revealed.

Body language
has nothing on eyes
what you see inside
can’t be denied.

© Rebecca Sanchez 372020

Written with my friends at The Sunday Muse #98 for this image prompt. While writing this I had to fight the urge to Dr. Seuss out. To be fair, I also had the David Bowie song Eyes Without A Face in my head so I’m lucky I came up with this. Lol!

 

Romantic Keys

Romantic Keys

Going solo is never easy
he didn’t have time to orchestrate
their meeting impromptu
the right keys were struck
their lovemaking an improvisation
his technique professional-
yet expressive.

She called him a virtuoso
it was like a fantasy
he felt it was reminiscent of a song
delicate nuances were there
but he was unprepared for romance
he preferred to play solo.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2/29/2020

I looked up Frédéric Chopin (because it was on the music sheet) and seeing the beautiful woman by the piano decided to use the words I found about him and his music for a “found poem.”

Written for The Sunday Muse #97 for this image.