The Town Of Yore
Brown brick buildings
lining the lane between
the path overbear
by feet too many to count.
It’s gloaming time
the walkways forlorn
encompassing the town
empty but for a toss-pot.
The town of yore waits
for dark to hearken it’s history
echoes of remembrance lurking in stone
if only we could hear them.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2018
I animated this image from Google search of the town of Yore in the UK. A toss-pot is a drunk, and gloaming is another word for twilight.
Written with dVerse~Poets Pub for the prompt urban renewal. This is a place I just picked, I’ve never been. It’s a very old town with lots of history. One day I would love to visit the UK or just get to go overseas.
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.
Beneath A Tree
When I sat beneath a tree
something basic came to me.
Trees will never disagree
know the sum of one plus three
change their sexuality
or wonder whether they are free
own a home or property
or worry ’bout the world we see.
The smell of earth was heavenly
shadows fell like filigree
the quiet air of mystery
the bark that tells a history
all slowly growing peacefully
it made me thankful just to be.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2017
Written with my friends at Poets United for the prompt “peace.” The art is a photograph of mine taken on the Bay Trail, put through an art filter and animated.
Thrust into my hands
handwriting barely legible
That tear stained letter
a sad memory
© Rebecca Sanchez 2013
An old poem with my animation. This happened to me but not in letter form, it was face to face and never to be. I think we’ve all had our relationship disappointments in life but I hope you were spared. Love is complicated at the best of times.
It’s good to be back after taking an unscheduled break from writing. Sometimes life gets in the way. Tomorrow’s another birthday for me I’m turning 63. I use to avoid mentioning my age in the past but due to my bike riding and good health, I feel too good to be so silly.
Shared with my friends at Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.
I have a special wish for you
dressed in your Easter finest
I hope for you good things to come
and blessings of the kindest.
The eggs are hiding in the grass
our baskets by our side,
“Oh look, I’ve found an Easter egg!”
I heard you cry with pride.
Now baskets full let’st’s celebrate
with candy, eggs and cheer
enjoy your Easter Sunday
hold your friends and family dear.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2014
This picture was taken of my brother and me on Easter of 1963 in our living room in Michigan City, Indiana before church. That hair! Look at those legs I was a real Tomboy growing up.
My mom always got us new clothes for church on Easter and often made them herself. She made both of our outfits that year I loved that dress and apron. Good memories here!
Happy Easter Sunday to all of my fellow poets at Poets United! This isn’t linked to Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads or dVerse~Poets Pub but this is for all of my friends I write with.
Old Library Book
Words in binding
new word finding
The End-I’m smiling!
© Rebecca Sanchez 2017
My first experience with books was in the library at my grade school. I think I read every book they had about horses. Of course in class, it was Fun With Dick And Jane. Libraries have changed through the years but they still hold countless stories, art, poetry, history, and more. All you need is a library card and it’s yours for the taking. Don’t forget to return your book!
The artwork is Storybook by Schnette on Deviantart. Linked with Poets United.
I dreamed I took a bath in Hitler’s bathtub
he told me it would be better than taking a shower
I got a fluffy towel instead of an unmarked grave.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2017
War correspondent Lee Miller taking a bath in Hitler’s own bathtub, inside his abandoned apartment. The photo was taken on the same day that Hitler committed suicide. Munich, Germany – April 30, 1945. I got this image from a Google image search wrote about and animated it.
Written for the prompt irony at dVerse~Poets Pub.