The Lost Masterpiece

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The Lost Masterpiece

An artist surveys the picturesque scene below
picking up his brush he hesitates;

The night sky above was glorious
he’d never seen so many colors of blue
dotted with light billowy clouds
covered by a never-ending Milky Way.

A sleepy town lay in the valley
nestled between mountain peaks
joined by meadows of yellow flowers
a small sliver of moon watching over all.

The bell in the church steeple rang out
when all was quiet, an owl asked; “Who? Who?”
The artist didn’t know
his canvas as blank as his mind.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

This poem was written for a Magpie photo prompt in 2014. Shared here for the first time from Picturesque Words and linked with my friends at Poets United.

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Tanka #82717

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tanka #82717

eyes closed tight, she blew
lips forming a perfect O
cheeks pink with effort
the seeds rushed into the air
her wish following after

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

An image prompt from Positively Prompted on Google Plus. I wrote a Tanka about this image prompt.

Pale Roses

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Pale Roses 

Pale roses fill the air with fragrance
as I bend to make a wish in the fountain
my coin is received with a golden splash.

Brass lion heads dispense water with a roar
in this serene quintessential garden
I lay myself down in a soft bed of grass.

My breathing slows as my thoughts follow
into a meditative reverie
thoughts pass floccinaucinihilipilification.

Leisurely plucking a nearby rose for my hair
a thorn sinks deep into soft flesh
blood trickles a bright red.

Jamming my finger in my mouth
I stand and gather my wits about me
bare feet heading for the back door.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

This was originally a Magpie Tale write. I reworked the art and wrote this poem about it. I imagined myself in this garden making a wish as described above. I enjoyed having a surprise ending here, a kind of “wake up and smell the roses” (or something like that.)

Time To Fly

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Time To Fly

The sun watches all from high in the sky
caterpillar to butterfly, miracles so small
when wings become dry it’s time to fly.

Everything smells wonderful and clean
flowers and grasses grow so tall
the sun watches all from high in the sky.

In the warmth, my mood is serene
outside the sunlight touches all
when wings become dry it’s time to fly.

There is magic in the color green
and music plays in nature’s call
the sun watches all from high in the sky.

The spirit renews in life’s routines
slow and steady the protocol
when wings become dry it’s time to fly.

Many mysteries remain unseen
constantly changing our tiny blue ball
the sun watches all from high in the sky
when wings become dry it’s time to fly.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

This is my first Villanelle and I hope it’s written correctly. Written with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub. Shared with my friends at Poets United.

Nuns And Sunflowers

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Nuns And Sunflowers
(My tribute to Fellini.)

A long afternoon spent
in a field of ripe sunflowers
my faded picnic blanket
a magic carpet.

The ultraviolet rays
sing my body a warm lullaby
my hands stop worrying
at the worn threads of my mind
as goldenrod heads gently nod
in blissful agreement above me
nature doing Fellini proud
(or is it just me?)

As the day settles into the heat
the visions start to fade
but before the spell is broken
I see myself surrounded
by nun’s in old habits
collecting seeds and planting sunflowers
(I am not alone.)

My last thought of course
like a hummingbird’s sweet kiss
settles on you.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for my friends at Poets United seeking the extraordinary from the ordinary and my tribute to Fellini. Also shared for open link at dVerse~Poets Pub. Artwork animated by me.

April Crocus

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April Crocus

When it seems like old man winter
will never lose his icy grip
dainty goblet-shaped Crocus
push through the melting snow.

Yellow, white and purple flowers
putting on their Easter finest
a colorful revival and early arrival
that fills us with new hope
welcoming the coming spring.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Shared with Monday WRites for Holy Week and Poets United.

Reasons

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Reasons

There are reasons for our seasons
as we watch for yearly clues
in the summer we have flowers
multicolored meadows viewed.

Then the trees turn glorious colors
dying leaves fall to the ground
before the burning bonfires end
winter’s come without a sound.

When the Crocuses start blooming
and I heed the robin’s call
spring will bring her wondrous renewal.
Good reasons for us all.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

I wanted to write a poem about the seasons while naming them within the poem. There were a few versions of this before I finally got the words the way I wanted them and I’m happy with the way it turned out.

A past musing shared with my friends at Poets United.