Black Apple

Black Apple

The exotic woman extended her hand
in it was a black apple
the black apple was a rarity
he had never seen one
the temptation to take it was powerful.
She took out a bejeweled knife
quickly slicing the fruit open
removing one perfect slice.
He winced as he watched the juices run
the whiteness inside the cut was erotic
it caused a strong stirring in his loins.
In an instant, he was upon her
but it wasn’t her body he dominated.
She lay dead as he examined his treasure
already the vulnerable white flesh
bruised and tasting sour.
His melancholy was ripe
as he fled defeated an utter failure.
In his passion and haste, he never found out
where to find the black apple.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

I used some dream meanings I found for black and apple. Written with my friends at The Sunday Muse #99 for this image prompt.

Also linking up with dVerse~Poets Pub for Meet the bar and listen to lists. I often do this for my poetry. For this image, I used a list of words from my search of dream meanings for this poem and everything dropped into place. Now I have a lot of reading to catch up with!

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Haiku #111818

haiku #111818

hide and seek
in grandfather’s truck garden
eating our fill

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Written with Haiku Horizons for the prompt truck.

truck: NORTH AMERICAN
market-garden produce, especially vegetables.
“a truck garden”

Candy Land

Candy Land

Soldiers waging war with flowers
bullets made of candy sours
everything one could devour
messing with their willpower.

All the men had taken vows
but had an urge for candy now-
they missed the posted sign somehow:
Eating Candy Is Not Allowed!

Licorice trees and sugar sand
it was more than they could stand
their bellies filled on enemy land
now, candy fell from useless hands.

The warning sign-a bitter pill
the candy took away free will.
Standing very,
############very,
##################STILL.
Gummy soldiers on the hill.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

I originally wrote about this image for Magpie Tales and animated it. Shared with my friends at Poets United on this quiet Sunday.

Sloth Personified

“Sloth makes man powerless and dries out the nerves until man is good for nothing.” The Personification Of Sloth (shown, as a badly-dressed woman resting on an ass.)

Sloth features an assortment of fantastic creatures and a confused arrangement of hybrid structures reminiscent of Bosch’s work.

I like to think my poem is about how Sloth lives.

Sloth Personified

Dirty wrinkled sheets on an empty bed
the room an overflowing ashtray
reading materials litter the floor
along with containers of putrefied food
I’m used to the smell.

Hallways haphazardly cluttered
walking on top of the shifting heap
windows and doors long blocked
bathroom flooded in feces and filth
fly’s going through their life cycle in the kitchen.

Resting my weight on stacks of old magazines
lit up by the blue light of the phone screen
wine gives everything a rosy glow
trolling Instagram and nibbling on canned peaches
wondering where the cat went.

Come to think of it, I had 2 cats!

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

About the artwork: Representing the vice of sloth, this image belongs to a series of prints of the Seven Deadly Sins, engraved by Pieter van der Heyden after drawings by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The personification of sloth, a shabbily dressed woman, demonstratively sleeps away the time in the central foreground, resting her weight on the back of an ass. The various examples of lazy or slothful behavior, in evidence in the surrounding landscape, colorfully demonstrate the message of the inscription. (Seen with photo above.)

Written for the prompt virture or vice at the Imanginary Garden With Real Toads. I picked sloth.

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.

Egg-cellent

Egg-cellent

There’s a treat that egg-sists
that brings such happiness
egg-actly what kind
(cause I can read your mind.)
So please let me egg-plain
it’s egg-cellent for your brain
with tryptophan within
and protein for good skin
an egg will make you smile
egg-streamly worthwhile.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I believe breakfast is the most important meal of the day for our bodies and keeps us going all morning. Eggs got a bad rap in the past but we now know that eggs should be a healthy part of our daily diets.

Writing a Quadrille this week for the prompt egg with dVerse~Poets Pub. The words with egg in them are counted as one word.

Grandparent’s Garden

Grandparent’s Garden

Straight from the garden
carrots and peas
tomatoes and green beans
I eat as I please.

Berries and veggies
don’t make me frown
raw, sweet, and crisp
best food around.

Planted with love
straight from the vine
fresh from the soil
mine all mine!

grandma and grandpa
every spring a new garden
now sowing memories

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for dVerse~Poets Pub.

That would be my grandparent’s garden which us kids grazed from every summer. They always planted extra to compensate. I miss them very much.