Seed By Seed

Seed By Seed

Pushing through the rocky soil
instinctively knowing which way to go
a single seed in an age-old plan
stirs inside and starts to grow.

Each containing a miracle
knowledge inside, ready to guide
seasons come and seasons go
sowing seeds both far and wide.

Once we’re born our journeys began
putting our roots down as we need
we grow profusely in our gardens-
all of this from a single seed.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2019

Image source: Google Image Search

This poem sure did go around with me but I finally finished it. Please excuse my cosmic use of seed and stuff. Lol! Written with my friends from Poets United for the prompt, Gardens.

My back is out so I can’t ride my bike right now. (Sad emoji here.) I realize I haven’t written in some time but I’ve been in touch with most of you on Facebook and such. Just dipping my toes back in the water. I enjoyed this prompt for the beginning of summer. Be around to read of course! Happy Summer! (I’m definitely a person who uses too many “!”)

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Synapic Self

Synaptic Self

I am my synaptic self
my synapses are me
they have the nerve
they make the connections
they are the “who” in me.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

“You are your synapses. They are who you are.” Joseph LeDoux

This was a found poem written about our synapses and what this guy (who studied them) said about them. I just found it interesting that this chemical reaction makes us who we are.

Enigmatic Me

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.

Sloth Personified

“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 End Is (Near) Here

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.

Tick Tock

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