Masks

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Masks

We all hide behind masks
cowering from our vulnerabilities
steeped in our inabilities.
If someone catches a white lie
or a small truth
another mask is born.

When we want to look our best
with wrinkles and imperfections gone
hiding from the realities of it all
another kind of mask comes into play.

When we love someone deeply
effortlessly we slip the mask
so sweetly we part the sheets
together we discover the divine truth.

But the moment it’s revealed
we retreat back to what we know best
the mask firmly back in place.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2015

We wear many masks during our lifetimes. How many people can you say know the real you? We don’t mean to hide but life can be very trying to say the least. Love does not guarantee that you see beneath the mask.

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Great Escape

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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.

The Town Of Yore

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The Town Of Yore

Brown brick buildings
lining the lane between
the path overbear
by feet too many to count.

It’s gloaming time
the walkways forlorn
encompassing the town
empty but for a toss-pot.

The town of yore waits
for dark to hearken it’s history
echoes of remembrance lurking in stone
if only we could hear them.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

I animated this image from Google search of the town of Yore in the UK. A toss-pot is a drunk, and gloaming is another word for twilight.

Written with dVerse~Poets Pub for the prompt urban renewal. This is a place I just picked, I’ve never been. It’s a very old town with lots of history. One day I would love to visit the UK or just get to go overseas.

The Dark Path

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The Dark Path

The unknown
a new way beckons
just one step
phantoms cling
they follow and won’t let go
the dark path takes me.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Artwork from a Google image search.

Today the prompt at dVerse~Poets Pub is to write a shadorma, a poem with one stanza or more, each stanza containing 6 lines with a 3-5-3-3-7-5 syllable count.

These Moments I Hold Dear

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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!

Super Duper Blue

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Super Duper Blue

The moon plays tricks
with a lunar eclipse
eyes to the skies
the full moon comes soon
twice this month is nice
number two is blue
tipping and slipping
under the earth’s umbra
invitingly in syzygy
this blood moon makes us swoon.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

A Blue Moon is when two full moons happen in the same calendar month; lunar eclipses occur when the moon passes into Earth’s shadow; and supermoons happen when the moon’s perigee — its closest approach to Earth in a single orbit — coincides with a full moon. In this case, the supermoon also happens to be the day of the lunar eclipse.

The second full moon and the lunar eclipse will occur on the night of Jan. 30 or the morning of the 31st. And the supermoon will take place on the night of Jan. 30, which is technically one day before the moon reaches peak fullness, but even NASA is willing to call the event a supermoon nonetheless.

I watched it last night on my patio it was awesome! My picture isn’t great, but it’s the only camera I had. This was when the moon was fully eclipsed and blood orange.

Written with my friends at Poets United for the prompt moon. Also, shared with my friends at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.

The Murder

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The Murder

It was a murder
perfected and performed
flashes of black
diving after scurrying figures
nowhere to hide
the violence
silent and quick.

A high scream
pierced the autumn air
flesh torn from bone
blood gushing forth
eyes glazing
as the heart stops
extremities twitching.

When all is picked clean
the killers move on
some bodies are carried away
most are never found
all of it murder.

Some call it survival
the others-
nevermore.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

I wrote this about my animated photo of crows taken on a bicycle ride.