Secrets From The Soil

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Secrets From The Soil

Egyptian mummies
rest in beautifully decorated sarcophagus
some inlaid with gold and gemstones
bodies prepared with spices and care
organs put into decorated clay pots
sealed for thousands of years
until found and studied by museums
spilling secrets from the soil
causes of death and life revealed
visualizing every feature and amulet
some mummies stand naked in groups
some are left as they were found
we see the faces, foods, and belongings
of these ancient people from our past
teaching us about life while celebrating death
while death teaches us about life.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Written for dVerse~Poets Pub hoping I’m not too late since it’s Wednesday! I’ve been very busy not meaning to take off weeks of writing but I’m back. Life has a way of just happening while time flies. This is my animation of an image I found for the poem. Soil brings us so many things!

Get Your Groove On

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Get Your Groove On

Spinning the grooves to move
a shindig you can’t miss
shag carpeting pulled back
come on let’s do the Twist!

Don’t be a drip, come shake those hips
and get those feet to work
feel that booming bass entice
come on let’s do the Jerk!

Mini skirts and paisley shirts
new dances all the craze
when I get my groove on
it’s a Keep On Truckin’ day.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

I felt like something light and fun this week so I’m sharing an oldie of mine about the oldies from Magpie Tales written for that dancing prompt I animated. Shared with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub.

Truth

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Truth

Dust particles dance
within a shaft of sunlight
slowly crossing the room
traveling over my body
warm and comforting
like a lovers embrace
to the mirror where I stand
contemplating my mortality
the sun has become harsh
I raise a hand in denial.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

We are writing about mirrors this Wednesday at Poets United where I’ll link up then.

Forever In A Dollhouse

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Forever In A Dollhouse

I am lost in my childhood dollhouse
stuck in my dreams
forever waiting for my turn
I wanted a real dollhouse
made of wood with pretty wallpaper
but I got a metal dollhouse
with a plastic family and furniture.

The sky’s a sullen shade of cyan
over the stagnant water
of my metallic pool
the sun burns itself out trying
while rust slowly accumulates
smelling just like blood.

These empty, echoing rooms
scraping by against alloy walls
covered in fake pictures and plants
numb in toxic surroundings
while black mold climbs the stamped stairway
I can’t escape this sinking feeling.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I really did have a metal dollhouse almost just like this. My artwork and animation unnamed.

Written with Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads for the theme home.

Yesterday

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Yesterday

We stayed in the playhouse
that my dad built me
in the backyard near the lilac bushes
that summer in Indiana
sleeping bags on camping cots
we huddled around cold popcorn
drinking Coca-cola
under flashlights in the dark
listening to Beatles 45’s
on the portable turntable
telling ghost stories
giggling through the night
me and my friends on our own
yet tethered to the real world
by an umbilical extension cord
running from the playhouse
up to the kitchen window.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

The subject of nostalgia made me think about being a child in Michigan City, Indiana. I loved having friends stay in my playhouse in the backyard. One extension cord plug would give us power for the turntable or a light. We didn’t have cell phones, video games or much of anything yet but we had music and friendship.

The artwork is an experiment of mine called Time Warp.

Written with Poets United and shared with dVerse~Poets Pub.

The Old House

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The Old House

The old house was old
older than it could remember
the souls who built it
long gone
children’s toys scattered about
everything there as they had left it.

Now the roof was half caved in
the smell of mildew and defeat
permeated the grounds
as the rain soaked wood
expanded painfully.

The old house dearly missed them
groaning and creaking-
it was almost over
the house thought.

Just then…
footsteps on the porch
as a fawn and its mother came inside
birds made nests in exposed rafters
as small animals followed
finding shelter.

The old house had found a new purpose
and happily settled for it

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

Change doesn’t always happen when we expect it or is how we expect it to be but don’t be afraid because change brings new things into our lives.

Written with Poets United.