Black Apple

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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!

The Facade-A Halloween Tale

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The Facade-A Halloween Tale

Walking the boardwalk at sunset
in search of saltwater toffee
I spied a facade I couldn’t phantom
and heard a vintage circus anthem.

I walked ahead and saw a face
all hideous and taunting me
a gaping mouth without a voice
curious, I made my choice.

The ticket seller’s booth was dark
behind the heavy curtains-light
goosebumps raised upon my skin
with shaky hands, I peered within.

Before my eyes could clearly see
claws and teeth attacking me!
Everything went black and then-
woke up by my cat again.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

Boo! (I luv Halloween.)

Posting for the first time on this site for October and Halloween 2018. I did the artwork just for this poem. I hope you enjoy it!

Last Goodbye

imageedit_27_3000804293Last 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.

Sloth Personified

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“Sloth makes man powerless and dries out the nerves until man is good for nothing.” The Personification Of Sloth (shown, as a badly-dressed woman resting on an ass.)

Sloth features an assortment of fantastic creatures and a confused arrangement of hybrid structures reminiscent of Bosch’s work.

I like to think my poem is about how Sloth lives.

Sloth Personified

Dirty wrinkled sheets on an empty bed
the room an overflowing ashtray
reading materials litter the floor
along with containers of putrefied food
I’m used to the smell.

Hallways haphazardly cluttered
walking on top of the shifting heap
windows and doors long blocked
bathroom flooded in feces and filth
fly’s going through their life cycle in the kitchen.

Resting my weight on stacks of old magazines
lit up by the blue light of the phone screen
wine gives everything a rosy glow
trolling Instagram and nibbling on canned peaches
wondering where the cat went.

Come to think of it, I had 2 cats!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

About the artwork: Representing the vice of sloth, this image belongs to a series of prints of the Seven Deadly Sins, engraved by Pieter van der Heyden after drawings by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The personification of sloth, a shabbily dressed woman, demonstratively sleeps away the time in the central foreground, resting her weight on the back of an ass. The various examples of lazy or slothful behavior, in evidence in the surrounding landscape, colorfully demonstrate the message of the inscription. (Seen with photo above.)

Written for the prompt virture or vice at the Imanginary Garden With Real Toads. I picked sloth.

The Town Of Yore

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The Town Of Yore

Brown brick buildings
lining the lane between
the path overbear
by feet too many to count.

It’s gloaming time
the walkways forlorn
encompassing the town
empty but for a toss-pot.

The town of yore waits
for dark to hearken it’s history
echoes of remembrance lurking in stone
if only we could hear them.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I animated this image from Google search of the town of Yore in the UK. A toss-pot is a drunk, and gloaming is another word for twilight.

Written with dVerse~Poets Pub for the prompt urban renewal. This is a place I just picked, I’ve never been. It’s a very old town with lots of history. One day I would love to visit the UK or just get to go overseas.

The Dark Path

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The Dark Path

The unknown
a new way beckons
just one step
phantoms cling
they follow and won’t let go
the dark path takes me.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Artwork from a Google image search.

Today the prompt at dVerse~Poets Pub is to write a shadorma, a poem with one stanza or more, each stanza containing 6 lines with a 3-5-3-3-7-5 syllable count.

I Scream

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I Scream

Darkness led me into sin
cause I invited Darkness in
my loneliness drove me astray
and I had thought it child’s play.

Wrapped inside his macabre wings
I heard the Darkness whispering,
”You’ll never be away from me,
with me for all eternity.”

The Darkness knew me like a glove
replacing hate where once was love
chuckling as it emptied me
drinking deep with empathy.

If I had lived the way I should
if I had stronger will I could
but Darkness won and reigns supreme
and I? I scream a mouthless scream!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Artwork from a Google search.

Written for the prompt scream with my friends at Poets United.