Time To Fly

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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.

So many mysteries remain unseen
constantly changing our big 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.

Almost

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Almost

It was about time
relatively close
approximately there
around the last minute
practically here
essentially finished
virtually in effect
close enough to smell
as good as done
all but answered
within an inch
 666666666666666666almost….

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for the Peninsula Poetry Corner tonight in Menlo Park (found through the MeetUp app.) Prompt is “almost.”

Tuesday Lost

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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.

Secrets From The Soil

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Secrets From The Soil

Egyptian mummies
rest in beautifully decorated sarcophagus
some inlaid with gold and gemstones
bodies prepared with spices and care
organs put into decorated clay pots
sealed for thousands of years
until found and studied by museums
spilling secrets from the soil
causes of death and life revealed
visualizing every feature and amulet
some mummies stand naked in groups
some are left as they were found
we see the faces, foods, and belongings
of these ancient people from our past
teaching us about life while celebrating death
while death teaches us about life.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for dVerse~Poets Pub hoping I’m not too late since it’s Wednesday! I’ve been very busy not meaning to take off weeks of writing but I’m back. Life has a way of just happening while time flies. This is my animation of an image I found for the poem. Soil brings us so many things!

The Letter

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The Letter

Thrust into my hands
handwriting barely legible
every
last
word
and
lingering lie
delivered deliberately.

That tear stained letter
now
a sad memory
relished, relinquished,
then released.

© 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.

The Boom Boom Boom

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The Boom Boom Boom

I feel the bass
############EXPLODING
through my body
###############with the boom
#########boom
###############boom.

As the electric guitar
##################SCREAMS
#######over the notes
of the opening song.

The music SMELLS
#####like an alleyway
in San Francisco

####where you get a BUZZ
########just by passing by.

The people stand
#####in lines
############waiting
at the venue
and the music
#############SPILLS
#################outside
into the streets.

So
#####singular
and beautiful
############the notes

#####as they CASCADE

 

###############down.

Bouncing
#########off the buildings
with the bass
############EXPLODING
########with the boom
##boom
########boom.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

Photography by Lorenzo Montezemolo. An old poem I wrote about a place I used to live and love shared with my friends at Poets United.

Nothing Personal

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Nothing Personal

I amble down
a road less traveled
a path is discerned
almost telepathically
I inch my way along
somewhat cautiously.

Mossy growth glistening
marching through the woods
mounting an invasion
against the trees.

The damp smell of death
permeating my senses
life mirrors nature
nature’s way is survival
nothing personal.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

A poem from my past posted for Earth Day. Also a nod to Robert Frost. Linked in the nick of time with dVerse~Poets Pub.