The Lost Masterpiece


The Lost Masterpiece

An artist surveys the picturesque scene below
picking up his brush he hesitates;

The night sky above was glorious
he’d never seen so many colors of blue
dotted with light billowy clouds
covered by a never-ending Milky Way.

A sleepy town lay in the valley
nestled between mountain peaks
joined by meadows of yellow flowers
a small sliver of moon watching over all.

The bell in the church steeple rang out
when all was quiet, an owl asked; “Who? Who?”
The artist didn’t know
his canvas as blank as his mind.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

This poem was written for a Magpie photo prompt in 2014. Shared here for the first time from Picturesque Words and linked with my friends at Poets United.





It took me some time
just most of my life
I found inner faith
but only through strife.

Not faith in the church
or political convictions
not faith in fellow man
they had serious restrictions.

When nothing else worked
I found faith in myself
worked hard to achieve it
what personal wealth!

Each day I renew
attached with no strings
just faith in myself-
the peace that it brings.

(c) Rebecca Sanchez 2017

What can we have faith in these days when all else fails and the world goes crazy? Ourselves, every single day.

Written with Poets United.

Egg Scuse Me


Egg Scuse Me

To be a kid on Easter Sunday
boiling eggs to pile high
for children such a fun day
decorating eggs with dye.

Putting on your Easter finest
to see neighbors at the church
all of us are at our kindest-
until the Easter egg search.

Our egg hunt is quite serious
the largest one around
it makes adults delirious
the children stand their ground.

Such fun to have on Easter
this year we might have won
I fell down on my keister
and got myself outdone.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

Happy Easter! I found an old poem I wrote in 2015 for Easter and wanted to share it with you. The image is a vintage postcard.

Written with Poets United and Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.

The End


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
On my
I sit
I can
from here
as I watch the mushroom cloud blossom.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2015
Shared on 3/6/2020 with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub for Open Link Night #261. Because of the virus scare and all of the bad news recently, I decided on an old poem about The End I’ve never shared before except with a class with WordPress.