A Writer’s Life

tumblr_m6i0amn1NX1rziwwco1_500[3]

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

Writer’s Block

tumblr_limu5rYAbr1qa71so[1].gif

Writer’s Block

My book it lies unfinished
that sentence dangling there
the words remain extinguished
it’s like my thoughts are bare.

My first book came so easy
the money made now gone
the blank page makes me queasy
my writing just looks wrong.

I meant to write a story
a word, a phrase, a quote
I wanted all the glory.
One word is all I wrote.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

A flash from the past shared with Poets United.

The Poet’s Dilemma

imageedit_6_8756677098[6].gif

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.

Haiku #12917

mardi-gras-clip-art-of-masks-and-carnival-and-dancers-3d-ddd-gif-animado-free-graphics-animation-gifs-icons-free-download-ecards-images-for-your-mardi-gras-carnival-picture-of-websites-oh

haiku #12917

light as feather
intimate as a lover
the sweetness of life

(c) Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads and shared with Poets United.

We were to take this poem and condense it into something short and sweet. I offer the shortest form possible, senryu.

Sweetness, always

“Why such harsh machinery?
Why, to write down the stuff and people of everyday,
must poems be dressed up in gold,
or in old and fearful stone?

I want verses of felt or feather which scarcely weigh,
mild verses
with the intimacy of beds
where people have loved and dreamed.
I want poems stained
by hands and everydayness.

Verses of pastry which melt
into milk and sugar in the mouth,
air and water to drink,
the bites and kisses of love.
I long for eatable sonnets,
poems of honey and flour.

Vanity keeps prodding us
to lift ourselves skyward
or to make deep and useless
tunnels underground.
So we forget the joyous
love-needs of our bodies.
We forget about pastries.
We are not feeding the world.

In Madras a long time since,
I saw a sugary pyramid,
a tower of confectionery –
one level after another,
and in the construction, rubies,
and other blushing delights,
medieval and yellow.

Someone dirtied his hands
to cook up so much sweetness.

Brother poets from here
and there, from earth and sky,
from Medellin, from Veracruz,
Abyssinia, Antofagasta,
do you know the recipe for honeycombs?

Let’s forget about all that stone.

Let your poetry fill up
the equinoctial pastry shop
our mouths long to devour –
all the children’s mouths
and the poor adults’ also.
Don’t go on without seeing,
relishing, understanding
all these hearts of sugar.

Don’t be afraid of sweetness.

With or without us,
sweetness will go on living
and is infinitely alive,
forever being revived,
for it’s in a man’s mouth,
whether he’s eating or singing,
that sweetness has its place.”

by Pablo Neruda

Daily Devotions

BekkiesPensador-Dolly_GPlus_ShowOffs[02]

Daily Devotions

Sometimes unappreciated
poetry can be complicated
loyal to my inner muse
I look to write without excuse
I search for prompts so that I might
devote some time and try to write.

On the internet to play
sites with different prompts each day
not just a place to link you see
my friends are always there for me.

Poetry written line by line
something I can make all mine
need to write, what can I do?
Pen a poem and share with you.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with Poets United and Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.

Me On Muse

bekkiesflowerpower1

Me On Muse

I can’t escape my muse
it thrives on inspiration
it gobbles forms for fun
it’s in my perspiration.

If I don’t write with peers
I settle for the latter
my muse fulfills the need
it’s all that really matters.

And when there is no reason
I can always find the rhyme
shore it up and make it clever
shine it up and call it mine.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written and shared with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.