Beneath A Tree

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Beneath A Tree

When I sat beneath a tree
ruminating memories
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.

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The Gift

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The Gift

Awarded a gift
Between past and future
Concluded at consciousness
Day in and day out-
Existence.

Facing the omnipresent and
Grasping what life
Has in store for us.

Invisible, tasteless and odorless, we
Just need to
Know how to
Live for today.

May we take this gift of
Now, and mark
Ourselves as
Present.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I wrote an alphabet Acrostic for dVerse~Poets Pub. The artwork is an old animation of mine.

Nuns And Sunflowers

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Nuns And Sunflowers
(My tribute to Fellini.)

A long afternoon spent
in a field of ripe sunflowers
my faded picnic blanket
a magic carpet.

The ultraviolet rays
sing my body a warm lullaby
my hands stop worrying
at the worn threads of my mind
as goldenrod heads gently nod
in blissful agreement above me
nature doing Fellini proud
(or is it just me?)

As the day settles into the heat
the visions start to fade
but before the spell is broken
I see myself surrounded
by nun’s in old habits
collecting seeds and planting sunflowers
(I am not alone.)

My last thought of course
like a hummingbird’s sweet kiss
settles on you.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for my friends at Poets United seeking the extraordinary from the ordinary and my tribute to Fellini. Also shared for open link at dVerse~Poets Pub. Artwork animated by me.

Hitler’s Bathtub

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Hitler’s Bathtub

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.

Fish Heads

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Fish Heads

Fish Head Sale-
there she was under glass
her large puckered mouth
begging to be kissed by lemons
tasting of brine salt
could dry up a man’s mouth
in mid-sentence.

She was cold as a fish
but lovelier than thou
in her scaly sequins
she looked tasty
but she would only be good
properly seasoned.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

A poem with 55 words exactly.

Written with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads and Saturday’s Image Write.

The Little Things

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The Little Things

I came upon a pristine stream
clean and lined with rocks beneath
I smelled the fertile earth around
it brought to me a deep relief.

I sat a spell to ruminate
so hypnotized by water such
I spied a butterfly amused
by something it was trying to touch.

Noticing a dazzling light
a trace of colors seemed to mock
a crystal necklace beckoned me
the leather strap caught on a rock.

Chasing down that tiny sun
I wondered how it came to be
my fingers on the surface brushed
I then had an epiphany.

Memories intact I left it there
for other creatures wandering
a secret between them and me
for life’s made up of little things.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I wrote this for the prompt at Toads and at the same time, about this image. Please join me in writing for an image every Saturday starting this weekend (the 4th). You can find the prompt here at the Saturday’s Image Write link or go directly to the Blogger site where it’s being hosted. Saturday’s Image Write.

Written for Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads. Sometimes you must look beyond the obvious to see the whole picture.

Danger Jargon Junction

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Danger Jargon Junction

The gandy dancer inspected
the empty track ahead
seeing emeralds all the way
signaling the okay.

The crew expecting eight and sand
a normal run for hospital train
stuck with sisters for overhaul
left receiving the high ball.

Hobos climb the running boards
ride the deadhead line for free
going through dark territory
drunken lads reliving glories.

The bull and cinder dick
instead of on the watch
were busy going to beans
arguing in the canteen.

Treachery on the bridge ahead
caused to dynamite the train
plunging to their death’s they go
a cold and watery death below.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Most of this is jargon I found in the Glossary of North American Railways and decided it would make a colorful poem. Research and time made this poem possible. I do like to play with vintage words and jargon.

Written with dVerse~Poets Pub.