For The Birds

For The Birds

Dipping thieving
from the skies
frenzied feeding
hungry cries.

Crust of bread
is offered thus-
fingers bleeding
so nonplussed!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

Sometimes you just shouldn’t feed the animals.

Advertisement

Broken

Broken

My heart breaks when I watch what’s happening in the world today
we have truly lost our minds in America letting ourselves be treated like cattle
being herded in whatever direction the political wind blows
we’ve given up, even if it leads us to the slaughterhouse
the invisible lines that separate us are turning into Trump-like walls
our history has taught us nothing as racial tensions separate us further respect for the people that protect us is gone, replaced by mistrust fueled by violence and ignorance
men are still in power pushing their sexual agendas on their victims
keeping women under their thumb as they get less pay for the same jobs
the house and senate don’t care about the people’s will, it’s all about their own agendas
our government is corrupt, greedy and we let them get away with it
cell phones have invaded the earth and people are transfixed by them
social interaction online has taken the place of real friendship
growing homeless camps are ignored and tolerated rather than helped
we think we’re paying taxes for a good cause then the money is spent elsewhere and we’re taxed for it again
although half of the people living now are 65, they can’t work because the jobs are given to younger people
they face higher costs for living every year while the retirement age goes up and benefits get cut
we pay a fortune for insurance many going without when other countries have health care for all
even with insurance many go without glasses, dental care and more
simple kindness and decency seem lost while our jails and prisons open their doors letting felons out for good behavior
we are losing touch with each other and we don’t know who to trust letting fear paralyze us
it’s difficult to know how to proceed when the psyche of countless people in our country are bruised and we’re bleeding out
I did as I’ve been told the system has let me down and I feel taken advantage of.

Some believe the soul is immortal, even so, our bodies are limited
we’re only here once and should be enjoying what this wonderful planet has to offer
instead, this is what we sow, this is how we spend this precious time
we vote and hope for a better life only to be fed fake news and tricked into submission
country against country, race against race, religion against religion-it never ends
right now, children are starving, being raped and abused, put into slavery, taught to shoot guns and carry bombs
my heart breaks when I watch what’s happening to the people of this world,
when do we say, how do we say,
777777777777777777AAAAAAAAAAAenough!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I’m a fan of brevity in poetry but this poem practically wrote itself and could have been longer. I don’t pretend to have the answers but I do know these things are going to take more than time to get better. History will show that’s usually through violence and war. We need to be strong and make ourselves heard through numbers.

Written with my friends at Poets United for the prompt psyche/soul. I animated the artwork.

Beauty And The Beast

Beauty And The Beast

Morning sunlight cuts through the night before
filters through bent and busted window blinds
as I lay watching
dust particles swirl through golden shafts of light
with one eye swollen shut
they flicker like fireflies
I used to catch and put in jars
I too, feel trapped
as I lay stunned and broken on the floor.

A beer bottle whizzes by
shattering my idyllic daydreams
glass shards glittering as they fly
cutting reminders of happier times
when I thought this beauty
had married a wonderful prince.

Blood stains and holes in the walls
the beast lurches out of the darkness
I tense and wait…

On days like this…
he tells me I never looked more beautiful.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

This is a photo prompt from the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads and what it made me think of. The photo is Firefly by George Seeley (1907). I’m pleased to find a photo prompt at Toads and hope to see more in the future. I threw in the name of the photo in my dark poem just because.

The Murder

The Murder

It was a murder
perfected and performed
flashes of black
diving after scurrying figures
nowhere to hide
the violence
silent and quick.

A high scream
pierced the autumn air
flesh torn from bone
blood gushing forth
eyes glazing
as the heart stops
extremities twitching.

When all is picked clean
the killers move on
some bodies are carried away
most are never found
all of it murder.

Some call it survival
the others-
nevermore.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I wrote this about my animated photo of crows taken on a bicycle ride.

Pale Roses

Pale Roses 

Pale roses fill the air with fragrance
as I bend to make a wish in the fountain
my coin is received with a golden splash.

Brass lion heads dispense water with a roar
in this serene quintessential garden
I lay myself down in a soft bed of grass.

My breathing slows as my thoughts follow
into a meditative reverie
thoughts pass floccinaucinihilipilification.

Leisurely plucking a nearby rose for my hair
a thorn sinks deep into soft flesh
blood trickles a bright red.

Jamming my finger in my mouth
I stand and gather my wits about me
bare feet heading for the back door.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

This was originally a Magpie Tale write. I reworked the art and wrote this poem about it. I imagined myself in this garden making a wish as described above. I enjoyed having a surprise ending here, a kind of “wake up and smell the roses” (or something like that.)

Forever In A Dollhouse

Forever In A Dollhouse

I am lost in my childhood dollhouse
stuck in my dreams
forever waiting for my turn
I wanted a real dollhouse
made of wood with pretty wallpaper
but I got a metal dollhouse
with a plastic family and furniture.

The sky’s a sullen shade of cyan
over the stagnant water
of my metallic pool
the sun burns itself out trying
while rust slowly accumulates
smelling just like blood.

These empty, echoing rooms
scraping by against alloy walls
covered in fake pictures and plants
numb in toxic surroundings
while black mold climbs the stamped stairway
I can’t escape this sinking feeling.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I really did have a metal dollhouse almost just like this. My artwork and animation unnamed.

Written with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads for the theme home.

The Harvest

The Harvest

A lone figure was watching the scene unfold
as a young deer crossed the busy highway
it was a beautiful morning.

The truck swerved and disintegrated
sending shrapnel everywhere
sparks flew from scraping metal
the driver was killed instantly.

His truck slammed into a woman’s car
she barely saw it happen-too fast to react
her windshield breaking glass flying
it was the last thing she saw as she died.

Sticky warm blood leaks, drips, and pools
the smell of gasoline was strong
cooling metal making ticking sounds
dead muscles twitching.

The car was unrecognizable
tangled with the truck
the deer mutilated and decapitated
airbags were deployed but did no good
it seemed like forever sirens in the distance
the ambulance was first but the corner was called
firemen and police were busy trying to pick up the pieces.

Death was chuckling as he watched the spirits rise from the wreck
he swings his sickle wide
gathering up the dead his job done.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads giving an example of incongruity.