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!


New Day


New Day

At first light, I wake up to a new day
ready to get up with the dew, day.

On TV, the news misconstrues, day
weeding out the fake news that’s untrue, day.

Stymied, I could use a breakthrough day
something to help me make do, day.

I feel like I’m stuck in a queue, day
the feeling is like deja vu, day.

Feeling down, you’re the one I turn to, day
you tell me you’re coming to woo, day.

I impatiently wait to see you, day
with you, it won’t be a blue day.

The calendar tells me it’s Tuesday
he’s here, so I bid you adieu, day.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

We are trying a ghazal today at dVerse~Poets Pub. A new form for me.




My heart breaks when I watch what’s happening in the world today
we have truly lost our minds in America letting ourselves be treated like cattle
being herded in whatever direction the political wind blows
we’ve given up, even if it leads us to the slaughterhouse
the invisible lines that separate us are turning into Trump-like walls
our history has taught us nothing as racial tensions separate us further respect for the people that protect us is gone, replaced by mistrust fueled by violence and ignorance
men are still in power pushing their sexual agendas on their victims
keeping women under their thumb as they get less pay for the same jobs
the house and senate don’t care about the people’s will, it’s all about their own agendas
our government is corrupt, greedy and we let them get away with it
cell phones have invaded the earth and people are transfixed by them
social interaction online has taken the place of real friendship
growing homeless camps are ignored and tolerated rather than helped
we think we’re paying taxes for a good cause then the money is spent elsewhere and we’re taxed for it again
although half of the people living now are 65, they can’t work because the jobs are given to younger people
they face higher costs for living every year while the retirement age goes up and benefits get cut
we pay a fortune for insurance many going without when other countries have health care for all
even with insurance many go without glasses, dental care and more
simple kindness and decency seem lost while our jails and prisons open their doors letting felons out for good behavior
we are losing touch with each other and we don’t know who to trust letting fear paralyze us
it’s difficult to know how to proceed when the psyche of countless people in our country are bruised and we’re bleeding out
I did as I’ve been told the system has let me down and I feel taken advantage of.

Some believe the soul is immortal, even so, our bodies are limited
we’re only here once and should be enjoying what this wonderful planet has to offer
instead, this is what we sow, this is how we spend this precious time
we vote and hope for a better life only to be fed fake news and tricked into submission
country against country, race against race, religion against religion-it never ends
right now, children are starving, being raped and abused, put into slavery, taught to shoot guns and carry bombs
my heart breaks when I watch what’s happening to the people of this world,
when do we say, how do we say,

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I’m a fan of brevity in poetry but this poem practically wrote itself and could have been longer. I don’t pretend to have the answers but I do know these things are going to take more than time to get better. History will show that’s usually through violence and war. We need to be strong and make ourselves heard through numbers.

Written with my friends at Poets United for the prompt psyche/soul. I animated the artwork.

High Expectations


High Expectations

High in the sky
I sit and spy
I see a unicorn
floating by
as a rabbit
comes to play
they spin
and swirl
and move away.

High in the sky
I sit and spy
only eagles
soaring by
muscular wings
they dip
and dive
and my heart sings.

High in the sky
I sit and spy
running high
coming here
seeking peace
I feel the planet
loving me
a sweet release.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for the prompt “Rising Above” and linked with Poets United. With everything going crazy in this world today it’s good to find somewhere to reconnect with nature, to renew ourselves.

Photo found on a Google search: Preikestolen or Prekestolen is a famous tourist attraction in the municipality of Forsand in Rogaland county, Norway. Preikestolen is a steep cliff which rises 604 metres above the Lysefjorden.

The Gift


The Gift

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

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

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

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




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

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

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

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