A Four Letter Word

A Four Letter Word

a four
letter word
that leaves us wanting.
It gives us such heavenly bliss
we taste its sweet nectar on our lips and lose ourselves.
We move together as one and become drunk with love while acting out our passion play.
Writhing in tangled sheets, we know no boundaries as we come together and experience the ecstasy of a simple four letter word.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Happy Valentine’s Day! I just got over being sick again this year. I missed some writes and reading of takes but I’m feeling much better now. Thanks for your patience!

I decided on a Fibonacci for the prompt word at Poets United this week. I’m also linking with the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads for the Tuesday Platform.


These Moments I Hold Dear


These Moments I Hold Dear

It’s these moments I hold dear
the warm sunshine on my skin
rolling away the passing years.

On my face you’ll find a grin
as nature heals my many ills
I find a wonderful peace within.

I will never have my fill
of watching wetlands as I glide
up and down the bayside hills.

My vintage bicycle as my guide
in the saddle time does fly
but I grow younger as I ride.

Rolling away the passing years
it’s these moments I hold dear.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

The photo was taken on a bike ride and I put it through an art filter.

Wrote a terza rima for the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. Linking up with my friends at Poets United. A few days late (although I had the poem done on time) but am finally linking it today after getting over my bad sinus infection. Gave me a chance to link with both groups!




I was told there would be cake
a delicious flavor just for me
yet I grow tired of lingering
I’m crumbling into pieces
my life stale and tasteless.

I was told there would be cake
yet I find no sweet treat today
my kitchen sits spotless awaiting
the glorious gooey sticky mess.
Will I ever find that recipe again?

I was told there would be cake
as the years go by the craving grows
sitting alone at a table set for one
wondering if I’ll be left
holding an empty plate.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Picking a protest sign to write about linking with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads. Divorced twice with no children I still dream of finding that special man to share the rest of my life with. That would take the cake and be sweet indeed.

A Writer’s Life


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

Haiku #12917


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

First Notes


First Notes

Standing mute she had a certain air
the tempo changed once I held her
the vibrato warm and expressive
my heartbeat an allegro
admiring the dynamics of her shapely body
I noted she was very high strung
but she played right into my hands.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with dVerse~Poets Pub.

You Smell Like Sex

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You Smell Like Sex

I am trembling and breathless
as you step behind me
your strong arms
encircling exploring
my body imploring…

Your warm breath at my ear-
you smell like sex!

As you turn to me our lips meet
we drink deeply of this elixir
falling in lust.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with dVerse~Poets Pub.