Black Apple

sliced black apple on a black background with a slice

Black Apple

The exotic woman extended her hand
in it was a black apple
the black apple was a rarity
he had never seen one
the temptation to take it was powerful.
She took out a bejeweled knife
quickly slicing the fruit open
removing one perfect slice.
He winced as he watched the juices run
the whiteness inside the cut was erotic
it caused a strong stirring in his loins.
In an instant, he was upon her
but it wasn’t her body he dominated.
She lay dead as he examined his treasure
already the vulnerable white flesh
bruised and tasting sour.
His melancholy was ripe
as he fled defeated an utter failure.
In his passion and haste, he never found out
where to find the black apple.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

I used some dream meanings I found for black and apple. Written with my friends at The Sunday Muse #99 for this image prompt.

Also linking up with dVerse~Poets Pub for Meet the bar and listen to lists. I often do this for my poetry. For this image, I used a list of words from my search of dream meanings for this poem and everything dropped into place. Now I have a lot of reading to catch up with!

World Under My Wheels

314479-digital_art-simple_background-minimalism-bicycle-world_map-Earth-wheels-map-continents-North_America-South_America-Africa-Europe-Australia-Asia-Antarctica-chains-gears

World Under My Wheels

The world runs under my wheels
I watch it go by from my saddle
north, south, east, west
I ride whichever way I feel.

My peddling is rhythmic and even
like meditation, it moves me
from here to there I fly
I concentrate on my breathing.

My bicycle makes me feel blest
it doesn’t pollute or damage
people smile as they watch me pass
and I smile back refreshed.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2020

Written for my friends at earthweal open link weekend #11. I decided on an upbeat new poem about something that always cheers me up.

Synapic Self

ann

Synaptic Self

I am my synaptic self
my synapses are me
they have the nerve
they make the connections
they are the “who” in me.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2013

“You are your synapses. They are who you are.” Joseph LeDoux

This was a found poem written about our synapses and what this guy (who studied them) said about them. I just found it interesting that this chemical reaction makes us who we are.

Day Of Discovery

bekkiesmagswimsDay Of Discovery

that day of discovery
waiting in line to change-
back into myself

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

Not really a senryu, meant to be micro-poetry, hence the title. I animated the artwork I wrote it about for fun.

For anyone reading this Past Musing (thank you, BTW,) I took a long break from writing recently. Either you know this because I used to write with you or you don’t because you’re just visiting. I’m going to ease back into writing real soon but first I have some old work to clean up and transfer here from a site I’m shutting down. Chances are you have never seen the work I’m transferring so check it out. New (fresh) work coming soon. Hugs all around!

Happiness

bekkiescapriciouspoetsunflower

Happiness

Happiness is emotional
simple in its beginnings
endorphins fill my brain
muscles relax
others tense
pulling at the corners of my mouth
sounds escape my lips
as childish giggles.

Happiness is addictive
good times amplified
one beaming smile
spreading across many faces
we feel giddy
makes us fall in love
it makes the world go round
it’s better when shared.

Happiness is temporary
we’d like it to last forever
still, it leaves us
without warning
but when we least expect it
someone smiles
and it reminds us
that it’s just around the corner.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Happiness never lasts but that doesn’t mean we’ll never be happy again. We never know what will make us smile. Artwork animated by me.

Written for the prompt happiness with my friends at Poets United and shared with dVerse~Poets Pub for open link night.

Dead Asleep

a-matter-of-life-and-death

Dead Asleep

Every night
my bed
is like a coffin
my body lies dead
asleep
in wait for my demise.

Daylight puddles
near the windowpane
spilling
into the room
splashing
over my face
caught
in a death mask.

Seconds pass
my face
softens
awareness returns
with random thoughts
cobwebs of dreams
swept clean
my eyes
open.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Sleep is so much like death, I often think about it.

The artwork, A Matter Of Life And Death by  Fay Collins is the prompt for today at dVerse~Poets Pub.

Great Escape

bekkiesfaerydragonmag

Great Escape

Squat
down
searching…
a way out.
New translucent wings
skillfully added to my back
aids my imaginative escape off of this page.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015/2018

A Fibonacci written in the past for Magpie Tales, animated by me.