The Understanding

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The Understanding

I know you…
that form
your many moods
how you make me feel.

I know you…
your sense of humor
your timing
what you love.

I know you…
because I am you.
Our understanding runs deep
poetry lives in me.

Poetry lives on in us.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Written for the prompt of poems with my friends at Poets United. The image is from the Pink Floyd album Tree Of Half Life by Storm Thorgerson.

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Discovery

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that day of discovery
waiting in line to change-
back into myself

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

Not really a senryu, meant to be micro-poetry, hence the title. I animated the artwork I wrote it about for fun.

For anyone reading this Past Musing (thank you, BTW,) I took a long break from writing recently. Either you know this because I used to write with you or you don’t because you’re just visiting. I’m going to ease back into writing real soon but first I have some old work to clean up and transfer here from a site I’m shutting down. Chances are you have never seen the work I’m transferring so check it out. New (fresh) work coming soon. Hugs all around!

Under Summer Skies

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Under Summer Skies

Under summer skies we played
fair and blue on Warrington Lake
we jumped in waters stained with clouds
swam through lily pads out to the raft
leaped into the cold and deep
muck sucking at our feet
while fish nibbled at our white skin
giggling and screaming all the while
of course, someone would always cry
later on forgetting why
for memories are always kind that way
when the family meets for summer play.

Hiking ’round the lake for fun
picking winterberries and wildflowers
while watching for bears
changing clothes with biting horseflies
lake perch that grandpa caught
with bread and fresh blueberries
this and more I do remember
wonderful times I’ll treasure forever
for memories are always kind that way
when the family meets for summer play.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Thank you, everyone, for the summer skies and fun back then! Love always, Bekkie

Written for my family (you know who you are) in memory of my cousin Jay Banasyznski who passed away recently. I was happy to see him 2 years ago at the wedding after not seeing him for 40 plus years. When I think of him now I picture him as an always smiling big kid, like when I last saw him most.

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Jay really hasn’t changed much here. Jay (left) and Uncle Gene (right) at the wedding. I took the picture of Warrington Lake on this visit to Uncle Gene’s place. Love you.

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

New Day

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New Day

At first light, I wake up to a new day
ready to get up with the dew, day.

On TV, the news misconstrues, day
weeding out the fake news that’s untrue, day.

Stymied, I could use a breakthrough day
something to help me make do, day.

I feel like I’m stuck in a queue, day
the feeling is like deja vu, day.

Feeling down, you’re the one I turn to, day
you tell me you’re coming to woo, day.

I impatiently wait to see you, day
with you, it won’t be a blue day.

The calendar tells me it’s Tuesday
he’s here, so I bid you adieu, day.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

We are trying a ghazal today at dVerse~Poets Pub. A new form for me.

Spurned

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Spurned

Yes, the world
run by men
hasn’t been kind to me.

If I want something
like equal pay
fair work practices
or unbiased treatment in general
I get shrugged off
like a second,
or third thought.

I’m allowed to live with them
vote and pay taxes with them
have children with them
told I’m one of them
but behind closed doors
in secret meetings
and the White House…

Heck, right to my face
it never changes
my rights are spurned
taken away, ignored
I’m told what to do with my body
given less
when so much is expected of me.

It’s like I don’t have the right sticker
to enter their nightclub
no amount of money
or the right designer labels
will ever do
I’m one of the people who
won’t get in.

I have always been
under someone’s thumb
sometimes I don’t even know them
they watch what I have
and take what they want.

And here I come
running like an ignoramus
clutching my last rights to my chest
better have the correct documents
out of breath and limping…

I keep what little is left
I make the best of it
I don’t have to like it.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I animated this artwork found through a Google image search. The search only brings up Standford University and no artist. As a woman, this is the only way I know.

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

Tick Tock

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Tick Tock

Tick tock, tick tock,
goes the old hallway clock
hours pass across its face
numbers help to keep its place
having hands that point the way
telling me the time of day.

Tick tock, tick tock,
goes the bedroom alarm clock
telling me it’s time to sleep
lay me down, sweet dreams to reap
sleeping ‘way my precious time
woken by the nagging chime.

Tick tock, tick tock,
goes the workplace time clock
laboring my time away
always work and never play
sands of time keep fooling me
falling into entropy.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

Past musings shared with my friends at Poets United for Poetry Pantry #387. Artwork: Google animated image search

Walking Through Doors

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Walking Through Doors

The doorway arrived in the nick of time
at the stroke of midnight before the first fireworks
wide open, brightly illuminated and full of promise
on the brink, I took my departure.

New doors open to us throughout life
some require keys before opening
some demand a pound or two of flesh
a lesson learned, an entrance earned.

Sometimes we balk at the opening
without realizing we’re on a new threshold
like not recognizing the dawn of a new day
letting that door slam shut in our faces.

Cooling our heals in the vestibule
aware and anxious to make our emergence
an unmarked exit opens to the unknown
that first step can be a real bitch!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

So many doorways so little time. Written with my friends at Poets United for the prompt doorway(s).