The Understanding

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The Understanding

I know you…
that form
your many moods
how you make me feel.

I know you…
your sense of humor
your timing
your rhyme and reason.

I know you…
because our understanding
runs deep
poetry lives in me.

Poetry lives in us.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Written for the prompt of poems with my friends at Poets United. The image is from the Pink Floyd album Tree Of Half Life by Storm Thorgerson.

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Word

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Word

Whether poetry or stories
words are such a treasure
vintage, slang, or common use
they give me so much pleasure.

When I feel the urge to purge
the words become my voice
they come pouring out of me
sometimes I have no choice.

But I’m pleased that I’m a writer
I enjoy the undertaking
cause every writer knows
it’s not for the moneymaking.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

The image on the cube (my animation) is called “River Of Poetry” but the artist is unknown to me.

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

Old Library Book

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Old Library Book

Words in binding
fact reminding
maybe rhyming
perfect timing
plot defining
how-to guiding
new word finding
worlds unwinding
masterminding.

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.

A Writer’s Life

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A Writer’s Life

A writer’s life for me
there’s nothing I’d rather be
playing with words is fun
reading out loud when I’m done
bringing my muse out to play
and writing this poem today.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

The Poet’s Dilemma

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The Poet’s Dilemma

Days and nights spent crafting words to perfection
fueled by cheap whiskey and non-filtered cigarettes
cut off from the very world he writes about.

His prose clever and filled with profound images
the darling of society
everyone wanted his company
designers gave him the finest garments
he lived in a stone mansion with a beautiful wife;
but on the inside…

The poet’s soul is tinted with the blackest black
he has no words left
his muse left him with no note
empty with no more to give.

He sits in his library at his big ornate desk
the glow of the candles outlining his frown
considering the writer’s block that has silenced him
feeling lost.

He inhales, his cigarette glowing red in the dark
he opens his desk drawer to get more whiskey
his handgun next to the bottle.

He pours himself a drink
as he has done so many times before
it burns as it travels down his throat
the loss of words was killing him
destroying him!

He put the handgun to his head and pulled the trigger.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

Shared with Poets United.

History’s Footprints

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History’s Footprints

Footprints of new
footprints of old
history follows
stories are told.

Following clues
like fossils and bones
things people wrote
things people owned.

They’re put in museums
in library stacks
taught in our schools
some are brought back.

History’s footprints
they show us the way
the way things were done
the way people played.

Everything is copied
from something before
so follow those footsteps
you’ll want to know more.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with Imaginary Garden With Real Toads and dVerse~Poets Pub.