Money, pays the rent
but before the month is over
all your money’s spent.

Money, not the most important thing
but if you don’t make enough
you’ll be living on a shoestring.

Money, some have it all
they’re treated like royalty
while we worship their beck and call.

Money, with it you can be president
beware of false prophets
you’ll be wondering where your money went.

Money, it’s just fancy paper
you can’t even eat it
yet it’s a world shaper.

Money, it’s something we all need
but if you can’t get a job
you cannot succeed.

Money, it doesn’t seem fair
its exhausting making ends meet
living on hope and a prayer.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Not to be confused with the Pink Floyd song, Money. Image: Google search from The Jetsons. Written for the prompt money with my friends at Poets United.


These Moments I Hold Dear


These Moments I Hold Dear

It’s these moments I hold dear
the warm sunshine on my skin
rolling away the passing years.

On my face you’ll find a grin
as nature heals my many ills
I find a wonderful peace within.

I will never have my fill
of watching wetlands as I glide
up and down the bayside hills.

My vintage bicycle as my guide
in the saddle time does fly
but I grow younger as I ride.

Rolling away the passing years
it’s these moments I hold dear.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

The photo was taken on a bike ride and I put it through an art filter.

Wrote a terza rima for the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Linking up with my friends at Poets United. A few days late (although I had the poem done on time) but am finally linking it today after getting over my bad sinus infection. Gave me a chance to link with both groups!




Yes, the world
run by men
hasn’t been kind to me.

If I want something
like equal pay
fair work practices
or unbiased treatment in general
I get shrugged off
like a second,
or third thought.

I’m allowed to live with them
vote and pay taxes with them
have children with them
told I’m one of them
but behind closed doors
in secret meetings
and the White House…

Heck, right to my face
it never changes
my rights are spurned
taken away, ignored
I’m told what to do with my body
given less
when so much is expected of me.

It’s like I don’t have the right sticker
to enter their nightclub
no amount of money
or the right designer labels
will ever do
I’m one of the people who
won’t get in.

I have always been
under someone’s thumb
sometimes I don’t even know them
they watch what I have
and take what they want.

And here I come
running like an ignoramus
clutching my last rights to my chest
better have the correct documents
out of breath and limping…

I keep what little is left
I make the best of it
I don’t have to like it.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I animated this artwork found through a Google image search. The search only brings up Standford University and no artist. As a woman, this is the only way I know.

Written and shared with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub for open link night.




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.



Returning from the war I locked away my gun
put away my uniform and that part of me
I was already damaged and not quite whole
thrown back into the world with bleak uncertainty
doubt funnels through my brain like a sieve
while I sit on a slab of ebbing confusing emotions
a large oscillating wave of self-doubt pressing against me
it never leaves me even when I pretend to sleep
I feel it’s weight upon me even now as I try to speak
a cell-block encasing my heart even though I try to break free
I ask my maker every day, what will become of me?

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

The prompt was weapon and I could have added it to the poem but this (fantasy) soldier is a weapon himself, taught to both use and become a weapon. Once home, our soldiers find it hard to turn off these learned behaviors and stop the bad memories from returning home with them.

Deactivate-remove from active duty in the military.

I used the animated GIF to write my poem and found it during a Google image search.

Written with my friends at Poets United.

Keep It Complicated


Keep It Complicated

A complicated man keeps it complicated
a silver-tongued devil come to play
crafts his stories to keep them guessing
won’t let words get in his way.

A complicated man likes his chaos
always up for something new
waging war on those who question
the exciting things he wants to do.

A complicated man will have it his way
charming them, so they can’t tell
doesn’t care whose lives he’s changing
smiling as he drops his bombshells.

A complicated man keeps it confusing
you’ll never know what’s on his mind
keeping it simple is simply boring
sometimes the blind, does lead the blind.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Written with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub. The prompt was to pick a poem and answer it with a new poem in the same style. Say Something Simple is the poem I picked and Keep It Complicated is my answer.

Say Something Simple

A simple man keeps things simple
starts with a letter makes a word
extends a sentence to a paragraph
makes one fly off like a bird

A simple man likes to be at peace
always at ease collective and calm
not letting anyone ruffle him
turning it all to be a healing balm

A simple man is a real economiser
making sure nothing is a waste
so everything is used to the full
adding a flavour to make it taste

A simple man likes not to elaborate
for some people just can’t understand
so keeping it simple is always safe
for many heads get stuck in the sand!

Copyright © Gordon McConnell | Year Posted 2018
From Poetry Soup




My heart breaks when I watch what’s happening in the world today
we have truly lost our minds in America letting ourselves be treated like cattle
being herded in whatever direction the political wind blows
we’ve given up, even if it leads us to the slaughterhouse
the invisible lines that separate us are turning into Trump-like walls
our history has taught us nothing as racial tensions separate us further respect for the people that protect us is gone, replaced by mistrust fueled by violence and ignorance
men are still in power pushing their sexual agendas on their victims
keeping women under their thumb as they get less pay for the same jobs
the house and senate don’t care about the people’s will, it’s all about their own agendas
our government is corrupt, greedy and we let them get away with it
cell phones have invaded the earth and people are transfixed by them
social interaction online has taken the place of real friendship
growing homeless camps are ignored and tolerated rather than helped
we think we’re paying taxes for a good cause then the money is spent elsewhere and we’re taxed for it again
although half of the people living now are 65, they can’t work because the jobs are given to younger people
they face higher costs for living every year while the retirement age goes up and benefits get cut
we pay a fortune for insurance many going without when other countries have health care for all
even with insurance many go without glasses, dental care and more
simple kindness and decency seem lost while our jails and prisons open their doors letting felons out for good behavior
we are losing touch with each other and we don’t know who to trust letting fear paralyze us
it’s difficult to know how to proceed when the psyche of countless people in our country are bruised and we’re bleeding out
I did as I’ve been told the system has let me down and I feel taken advantage of.

Some believe the soul is immortal, even so, our bodies are limited
we’re only here once and should be enjoying what this wonderful planet has to offer
instead, this is what we sow, this is how we spend this precious time
we vote and hope for a better life only to be fed fake news and tricked into submission
country against country, race against race, religion against religion-it never ends
right now, children are starving, being raped and abused, put into slavery, taught to shoot guns and carry bombs
my heart breaks when I watch what’s happening to the people of this world,
when do we say, how do we say,

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I’m a fan of brevity in poetry but this poem practically wrote itself and could have been longer. I don’t pretend to have the answers but I do know these things are going to take more than time to get better. History will show that’s usually through violence and war. We need to be strong and make ourselves heard through numbers.

Written with my friends at Poets United for the prompt psyche/soul. I animated the artwork.