Enigmatic Me

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Enigmatic Me

Forever is a long time
tomorrow never comes
yesterday is so far away
I waste my time
and that’s a crime.

Destiny goes unfulfilled
the shape of things to come
the lottery is never won
fate knows the score
forevermore.

My lifeline tells me nota
my fortune can’t be rushed
good things take time
to ascertain
so an enigma I’ll remain.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

nota=slang for nothing

My life remains a puzzle slowly coming together with pieces bent and missing that may be lost for good. How would I know?

Sharing a poem of choice with my friends at Poets United.

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I Need It

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I Need It

Where’s my happily ever after?
Why can love no longer find me?

This is the time, the renewal
it’s spring and each year is more
I want to be a part of it
I need it.

I want to be loved and treasured
I’m alone too much
it makes me lonely
life balances better with two.

I search for someone to love
that really cares about my day
someone to keep me sane
in this uncaring world.

Sharing a quiet morning with them
food, talk and laughter
heart and soul
a mutual touch so satisfying
I shudder to think of it.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

My artwork Heart Of Glass animated. I wrote this spring of 2015 and sorry to say I’m still looking.

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.

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).