Money, pays the rent
but before the month is over
all your money’s spent.

Money, not the most important thing
but if you don’t make enough
you’ll be living on a shoestring.

Money, some have it all
they’re treated like royalty
while we worship their beck and call.

Money, with it you can be president
beware of false prophets
you’ll be wondering where your money went.

Money, it’s just fancy paper
you can’t even eat it
yet it’s a world shaper.

Money, it’s something we all need
but if you can’t get a job
you cannot succeed.

Money, it doesn’t seem fair
its exhausting making ends meet
living on hope and a prayer.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Not to be confused with the Pink Floyd song, Money. Image: Google search from The Jetsons. Written for the prompt money with my friends at Poets United.


Seven Years Of Bad Luck

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Seven Years Of Bad Luck

Seven years of bad luck
I broke the mirror
and now I’m stuck
seven years of misery
a devastating history
if I could make it up I would
but now it’s done
won’t do no good
I broke the mirror
and though it sucks
it’s seven years of bad luck.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2018

Written for the prompt reflecting on mirrors with my friends at dVerse~Poets Pub. Breaking a mirror can be a problem if that’s what you believe.

Tanka #82717


tanka #82717

eyes closed tight, she blew
lips forming a perfect O
cheeks pink with effort
the seeds rushed into the air
her wish following after

© Rebecca Sanchez 2017

An image prompt from Positively Prompted on Google Plus. I wrote a Tanka about this image prompt.

Pale Roses


Pale Roses 

Pale roses fill the air with fragrance
as I bend to make a wish in the fountain
my coin is received with a golden splash.

Brass lion heads dispense water with a roar
in this serene quintessential garden
I lay myself down in a soft bed of grass.

My breathing slows as my thoughts follow
into a meditative reverie
thoughts pass floccinaucinihilipilification.

Leisurely plucking a nearby rose for my hair
a thorn sinks deep into soft flesh
blood trickles a bright red.

Jamming my finger in my mouth
I stand and gather my wits about me
bare feet heading for the back door.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

This was originally a Magpie Tale write. I reworked the art and wrote this poem about it. I imagined myself in this garden making a wish as described above. I enjoyed having a surprise ending here, a kind of “wake up and smell the roses” (or something like that.)

Easter Wishes


Easter Wishes

I have a special wish for you
dressed in your Easter finest
I hope for you good things to come
and blessings of the kindest.

The eggs are hiding in the grass
our baskets by our side,
“Oh look, I’ve found an Easter egg!”
I heard you cry with pride.

Now baskets full let’st’s celebrate
with candy, eggs and cheer
enjoy your Easter Sunday
hold your friends and family dear.

© Rebecca Sanchez 2014

This picture was taken of my brother and me on Easter of 1963 in our living room in Michigan City, Indiana before church. That hair! Look at those legs I was a real Tomboy growing up.

My mom always got us new clothes for church on Easter and often made them herself. She made both of our outfits that year I loved that dress and apron. Good memories here!

Happy Easter Sunday to all of my fellow poets at Poets United! This isn’t linked to Imaginary Garden Of Real Toads or dVerse~Poets Pub but this is for all of my friends I write with.




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.

Forever In A Dollhouse


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.