Different

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Different

We’re different it’s plain to see
if you say why I say I don’t know
I say it’s you, you say it’s me
if I say stay then you just go.

If I see you and say hello
you look at me and say goodbye
if I say high, then you say low
all I can ask is why, oh why?

I tell you yes, you say oh no
why must it always be this way?
When I say fast then you go slow
I say good-night you say good-day.

I don’t know why you say goodbye
our conversations make me cry.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Writing an English pop sonnet based on a popular song from my past with dVerse~Poets Pub. This band was very popular in the 60’s and I’d like you to guess but the answer is here. The artwork is one of my animations untitled.

Kiss Of Death

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Kiss Of Death

So beautiful and rare
in death a kiss so fair
it makes the corpses jealous
their eyeless sockets stare.

An eternity in your arms
my angel wings boned bare.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

Another blast from the past (something a little different) shared with Poets Untied. This is a wallpaper meant to be shared and had no artist information like most wallpapers found to share online.

Hitler’s Bathtub

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Hitler’s Bathtub

I dreamed I took a bath in Hitler’s bathtub
he told me it would be better than taking a shower
I got a fluffy towel instead of an unmarked grave.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

War correspondent Lee Miller taking a bath in Hitler’s own bathtub, inside his abandoned apartment. The photo was taken on the same day that Hitler committed suicide. Munich, Germany – April 30, 1945. I got this image from a Google image search wrote about and animated it.

Written for the prompt irony at dVerse~Poets Pub.

Sdrawkcab Poem

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Sdrawkcab Poem

My cat was begging to be fed
I brushed the cobwebs from my head
and when I got up from my bed
I did it backward style instead.

A backward world is what I found
my cat was making backward sounds
my room was backward all around
absurdly backward-so profound.

My cat was begging to be fed
as I awoke with certain dread
’twas just a dream I had instead
and sighing just went back to bed.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Casey Weldon is an American artist best known for his use of melancholy and humor in conjunction with the iconography of modern pop culture, leading his critics to designate his style as “post-pop surrealism.” He’s a Californian artist and I found this picture to use after I wrote my poem. Source: Wikipedia

Written for the prompt irony from dVerse~Poets Pub.

Vanishing Act

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Vanishing Act

She could never keep her feet on the ground
she preferred her head above the clouds
daydreams taking her far away
leaving the cruel world behind
to others, just an empty shell
but on the inside…

She could never understand her fate
born free only to become enslaved
told when and how to feel
how to act and what to do and say
a second class citizen with a womb
expected to be a selfless caretaker of others
as if one job that pays less than a man isn’t enough.

She could never find peace in vacations
everywhere she went was the same
people controlling and questioning
lines of strangers greedy and pushing
draining her money and energy
not that any amount could unshackle her.

She could never breakout of her prison
returning to a home that wasn’t hers
“things” that belonged more than she did
a life she couldn’t bear for another instant
the heavy weight of it took her breath away
her heart crushed like so much stardust.

She could never commit suicide
despite her unhappiness with it all
so enthralled by the heavens that night
she made a decision to travel once more
plucking the evening star to wear in her hair
she decorated her robe with the milky way
wearing the rings of Saturn as her crown
a sliver of moon topped her scepter
finally, all the universe was hers alone.

Daydreams taking her far away
never, never to return.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015/2017

An old poem reworked with my animation from Magpie Tales and shared with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads. This is about women and some of the thoughts we may share about being born a woman in a man’s world. Some of us may dream of vanishing but we all know that there’s more to life. Going crazy (or suicide) is not the answer but I feel for the women who can’t deal and hope they find the help they need.

Forever In A Dollhouse

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Forever In A Dollhouse

I am lost in my childhood dollhouse
stuck in my dreams
forever waiting for my turn
I wanted a real dollhouse
made of wood with pretty wallpaper
but I got a metal dollhouse
with a plastic family and furniture.

The sky’s a sullen shade of cyan
over the stagnant water
of my metallic pool
the sun burns itself out trying
while rust slowly accumulates
smelling just like blood.

These empty, echoing rooms
scraping by against alloy walls
covered in fake pictures and plants
numb in toxic surroundings
while black mold climbs the stamped stairway
I can’t escape this sinking feeling.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I really did have a metal dollhouse almost just like this. My artwork and animation unnamed.

Written with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads for the theme home.

The Harvest

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The Harvest

A lone figure was watching the scene unfold
as a young deer crossed the busy highway
it was a beautiful morning.

The truck swerved and disintegrated
sending shrapnel everywhere
sparks flew from scraping metal
the driver was killed instantly.

His truck slammed into a woman’s car
she barely saw it happen-too fast to react
her windshield breaking glass flying
it was the last thing she saw as she died.

Sticky warm blood leaks, drips, and pools
the smell of gasoline was strong
cooling metal making ticking sounds
dead muscles twitching.

The car was unrecognizable
tangled with the truck
the deer mutilated and decapitated
airbags were deployed but did no good
it seemed like forever sirens in the distance
the ambulance was first but the corner was called
firemen and police were busy trying to pick up the pieces.

Death was chuckling as he watched the spirits rise from the wreck
he swings his sickle wide
gathering up the dead his job done.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads giving an example of incongruity.