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.


Tuesday Lost


Tuesday Lost

I woke up this Tuesday
it was foggy and gray
local news was boring
my cat was snoring
nobody around
there was not a sound
so I looked outside
as I tried to decide
just what I could do
on a day so blue.

Coffee broke my fast
but that didn’t last
fatigued to doom
I retired to my room
I picked up a book
to take a look,
“Beware,” it read,
“this will go to your head.”

I woke up this Tuesday
instead, it was Wednesday
just around dawn
as time had crept on
a most tedious day
literally slept away.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

Sharing this poem from the past with Imaginary Garden With Real Toads on a Tuesday much like the one I wrote about in 2015. Photography of San Francisco under the weather by Gary Lo.

I want to ride my bike but the weather has been foggy and very windy for days on end. I anxiously wait for the wind to calm down in the mornings so I can enjoy my rides. Biking on the San Francisco Bay trails is a real downer when riding for miles into the wind.

White Wolf


White Wolf

A pack of wolves
in the rolling fog
towards me
almost invisible
under a new moon.

the dark night
like burning coals
the pack
like smoke.

lone wolf
moving forward
white coat.

as time
stands still
spirits speak.

A twig
the spell
a pack of wolves
with the morning mist.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.

Just My Bike And Me


Just My Bike And Me

Wetlands passing by
the waterbirds feed
it’s a very good day
on San Francisco Bay.

To be out of the city
yet see it ‘cross the bay
even foggy days
it’s there on display.

Wind in my hair
just a gentle breeze
sun hot on my back
as I follow the bike track.

The sharp salt smell
clicking of the gears
the songbirds sing
colors on the wing.

Drifting down the trail
I feel like I’m flying
at peace so quietly
just my bike and me.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Shared with Poets United.

Nine Lives


Nine Lives

watching the sunset
fog sneaks in over the bay
on tiny cat feet

under small bushes
the cat becomes a panther
silently stalking prey

ignored by a cat
nothing makes one feel
more rejected

contented purring
a peaceful heart
a happy cat

words left unspoken
leaves things broken
cat got your tongue?

coming in late
look what the cat dragged in
don’t blame the cat

stroking a cat
the best relaxation
a furry zen master

a cat has nine lives
we only go around once
make it count

a beloved cat
is man’s best friend
the dog would argue

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with Haiku Horizons.