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.


The Creamy Center In You Melts My Hard Candy Shell


The Creamy Center In You Melts My Hard Candy Shell

I have a digital urge
saved only for you
I press the on button
zeros and ones flow
following circuit board traces
passing through logic chips
capacitors charging and discharging.

I see your face in the screens light
and there you are in High Definition
receiving you sharp and clear
streaming over Wi-Fi
your sound surrounds me fully
animated emotions run unchecked
flashing through my preferred player
initiating a protocol saved only for you.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Written for, and shared with my friends at Poets United. Love can take many forms, just like poetry.

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.

Tanka #92017


tanka #92017

deep within my soul
there’s an untouchable place
that only responds
to a different drummer
accompanied by steel strings

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

An image prompt from Positively Prompted on Google Plus. Music is something that we all agree is special to us in so many ways. Shared with my friends at Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads.




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.

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

The Dance


The Dance

Lovely music fills the room
attraction wafts like fine perfume
ladies waiting for their chance
will he, won’t he, ask to dance?

There she stood against the wall
beautifully vulnerable at the ball
watching; how she longed to dance
if only someone took the chance.

Couples dancing close and slow
the moon was shy and dipping low
her eyes they met a young man’s glance…
take a chance, please take a chance.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2016

Written with Poets United.