World Under My Wheels

World Under My Wheels

The world runs under my wheels
I watch it go by from my saddle
north, south, east, west
I ride whichever way I feel.

My peddling is rhythmic and even
like meditation, it moves me
from here to there I fly
I concentrate on my breathing.

My bicycle makes me feel blest
it doesn’t pollute or damage
people smile as they watch me pass
and I smile back refreshed.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

Written for my friends at earthweal open link weekend #11. I decided on an upbeat new poem about something that always cheers me up.

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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!

For The Birds

For The Birds

Dipping thieving
from the skies
frenzied feeding
hungry cries.

Crust of bread
is offered thus-
fingers bleeding
so nonplussed!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

Sometimes you just shouldn’t feed the animals.

Under Summer Skies

Under Summer Skies

Under summer skies we played
fair and blue on Warrington Lake
we jumped in waters stained with clouds
swam through lily pads out to the raft
leaped into the cold and deep
muck sucking at our feet
while fish nibbled at our white skin
giggling and screaming all the while
of course, someone would always cry
later on forgetting why
for memories are always kind that way
when the family meets for summer play.

Hiking ’round the lake for fun
picking winterberries and wildflowers
while watching for bears
changing clothes with biting horseflies
lake perch that grandpa caught
with bread and fresh blueberries
this and more I do remember
wonderful times I’ll treasure forever
for memories are always kind that way
when the family meets for summer play.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Thank you, everyone, for the summer skies and fun back then! Love always, Bekkie

Written for my family (you know who you are) in memory of my cousin Jay Banasyznski who passed away recently. I was happy to see him 2 years ago at the wedding after not seeing him for 40 plus years. When I think of him now I picture him as an always smiling big kid, like when I last saw him most.

Jay really hasn’t changed much here. Jay (left) and Uncle Gene (right) at the wedding. I took the picture of Warrington Lake on this visit to Uncle Gene’s place. Love you.

Written for the prompt summer with my friends at Poets United.

Great Escape

Great Escape

Squat
down
searching…
a way out.
New translucent wings
skillfully added to my back
aids my imaginative escape off of this page.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015/2018

A Fibonacci written in the past for Magpie Tales, animated by me.

These Moments I Hold Dear

These Moments I Hold Dear

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

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.

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

I feel renewed, I feel revived
all negativity left behind
I feel so good to be alive.

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 with the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Linking up with my friends at Poets United.

Time To Fly

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.