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.

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The End Is (Near) Here

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The End Is (Near) Here

Discovering new medicines
prolonging life and more
it wasn’t enough to save us
not many could afford.

Grocery shelves were empty
nuclear reactors failed
the planet overcrowded
the toxic air inhaled.

The dumping and the oil spills
went on with no relief
it all went in the water
to percolate beneath.

”The end is near,” the soothsayer wrote
his words died where he lay
no one was left to notice
the end was here today.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I couldn’t help but write a second poem for this prompt I had so many thoughts about it. Money isn’t the only evil, we are an imperfect people with more of us born on this earth every day. I believe there will be a day of reckoning and hope it goes better than this. Written for the prompt money with my friends at Poets United.

Empty

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Empty

Standing at the graveside I smell loss
the warm Autumn day turned damp
as the fog danced and swirled about
like ghosts of the past encircling
grieving relatives rend their garments
weeping openly while the children
huddle at their feet.

The rain fell harder
tapping on my shoulders
each drop reminding me
he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

This poem was written about this picture prompt.

Haiku #1518 and Tanka

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Tanka…Nobe Okuri 野辺送り

a neighbor’s
funeral in new year week
fluffy snow flowers
from heaven
falling on his coffin…

©2018Rika Inami稲美里佳

My answer:

haiku #1518

snowflakes from heaven
a winter coat of sadness
covers his coffin

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Rika Inami is a well-known tanka poet who writes in her language and English. She takes walks in her native Japan taking photos and composing tanka about them. She’s also a friend of mine and a very sweet lady.

She posts her work daily on Google Plus and if you answer her work she’ll post it on her blog. This was my answer to her photo (above) and tanka.

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).

Haiku #123117

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haiku #123117

an autumn leaf
making way for fresh spring growth
falls, with a flourish

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

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This is what I used to make my artwork (part of a larger photograph I took.) I caught a leaf falling, not only that, but it had a hole in it I could see through. It was suspended there just for my camera. I think it’s magic catching something like this while it’s happening. Perfect for this prompt and the last day of 2017. Happy New Year!

Written with Haiku Horizons (my last poem of 2017) for the prompt fresh. Shared with Poets United also.

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The Murder

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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.