The Door

The Door

It was only a door
so why did I feel
such foreboding?
Surely I’ve approached
one hundred doors like it
in my lifetime.
The knocker looked heavy
and lions guarded it
with somber faces.
The door looked at me
the mail slot
a tense mouth.
A camera eyed me
blankly remote.
Was someone
already watching?

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

Written with my friends at The Sunday Muse #100 for the photo prompt. I usually think of what the picture is and how it makes me feel. In this case, I was thinking about how the door perceived me without human contact.

Black Apple

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!

#322020

#322020

my package delivered
box of 20 masks
made in China

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

What a conundrum!

Romantic Keys

Romantic Keys

Going solo is never easy
he didn’t have time to orchestrate
their meeting impromptu
the right keys were struck
their lovemaking an improvisation
his technique professional-
yet expressive.

She called him a virtuoso
it was like a fantasy
he felt it was reminiscent of a song
delicate nuances were there
but he was unprepared for romance
he preferred to play solo.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2/29/2020

I looked up Frédéric Chopin (because it was on the music sheet) and seeing the beautiful woman by the piano decided to use the words I found about him and his music for a “found poem.”

Written for The Sunday Muse #97 for this image.

Haiku #292020

#292020

strong winds blow
tattered tarp waving-
I give up

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

My photographs (frames) of trees blowing in the wind animated.

We’re having record winds today in the Bay Area and it tore two holes in the sun worn tarp outside on the patio. No bike riding today!

When Honesty Honestly Doesn’t Pay

When Honesty Honestly Doesn’t Pay

What if a small lie…

Could help the truth slide by
help someone who’s gone astray
sometimes it’s just the best way.

What if the small lie…

Would help someone feel better
make the world a nicer place
save another person’s face.

Honesty is the key
it’s plain to see
it’s a great policy;
to some degree.

What if the truth hurts…

Just remember to keep it small
it can get you through another day
when honesty honestly doesn’t pay.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

Written with Poets And Storytellers United for an open prompt (originally Poets United.)

Walkway

Walkway

I want to take you everywhere
and show you what I see
but you take me for granted
and just walk all over me.

When you find me charming
and you take me somewhere nice
you still go off and leave me
never seeming to think twice.

All I do is wait for you
pedestrian of me,
if you treat me like a walkway
then your walkway I will be.

Rebecca Sanchez © 2015

This photo was taken by me in Oakland, CA.