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!
The news is filled with stories about disappearing species. As species die and people crowd to see the last ones, we end up wiping out the rest of them and their habitats along with other species who happen to be in the way. How can we be so arrogant to not consider this or anything else we do as a race to this planet? We are the creatures with the most developed brains but what do we do? We want what we want and to hell with whatever gets in our way.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2020
A person photographing the stars also shows the movement of fireflies on a summer night. From Giphy.
I wrote this after reading about Fireflies and their habitats disappearing due to light pollution and encroachment.
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.)
We all hide behind masks
cowering from our vulnerabilities
steeped in our inabilities.
If someone catches a white lie
or a small truth
another mask is born.
When we want to look our best
with wrinkles and imperfections gone
hiding from the realities of it all
another kind of mask comes into play.
When we love someone deeply
effortlessly we slip the mask
so sweetly we part the sheets
together we discover the divine truth.
But the moment it’s revealed
we retreat back to what we know best
the mask firmly back in place.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2015
We wear many masks during our lifetimes. How many people can you say know the real you? We don’t mean to hide but life can be very trying to say the least. Love does not guarantee that you see beneath the mask.
Me And Me
With everyone I disagreed
I never helped a friend in need
I always had to have my way
I always had the final say.
Just me, and me, and me alone
with everyone, I’ve been disowned
and now the time has come to see
I really turned my back on me.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2014
Published here for the first time in 2018. My artwork put through filters and animated.
Every single cell in me
can identify what I lack…
the only man I ever loved.
(Now I can’t win you back!)
A lover like no other
you turned out to be
my extraordinary man…
who saw something, in me.
But now you love her!
I don’t know how I lost…
please forgive me my sins
and this line I have crossed.
Now you’re dead where you lay-
the crime fits like a glove.
But I feel so much better,
“Goodbye now, my love.”
© Rebecca Sanchez 2013
I took an older poem that had punctuation to link with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub. I took some time off from writing and am slowly dipping my toes back into the poetry river. I believe in using punctuation and use it in my poems something I started a long time ago when a friend convinced me.
“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.
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.