Category: Children Learn While They Play

Busy Mind #23

R.E.V.O.L.U.T.I.O.N.

Encounter in Illinois

Footsteps

WATCH OUT!!

Look where you’re going

Invisible man with a monkey’s paw

In the August heat

Nobody prepares you for this stage of life

When your own blood shoots you dead

Right there, in the wilderness

It’s science fiction and fantasy

The lines are blurred

Where does fantasy begin?

Where does reality end?

It’s a fine line

Betwixt  religion and hypocrisy

 

We’re at war

Science fiction and fantasy

The blood of the martyrs

Will once again spill into the streets

When a visit to grandma’s

May save your own soul

Where you’ll sit on the old rocking horse

And know you’re a winner

 

The lottery is fixed

The outcome is fixed

And the young ones will sing

The ballad of the harp-weaver

A ballad from hell-will be the antidote

To break the wicked spell.

 

This time next year

The raven will come

To dance with the skater of ghost lake

As the young ones sing

The ballad of the harp-weaver

 

This time next year

Reality will face off with fantasy

We’ll all be at war

We are the people

We are the mob

We fixed the lottery

We fixed the outcome

We are the bloodied martyrs

On whose blood covered streets

Our own blood we’re spilling

 

We are the people

We are the mob

Together unstoppable

Together invincible

They can’t shut us up

We sing the ballad  of the harp-weaver

We broke hell’s spell

Our children arise

Arise from the ashes

Our children the stars shining brightly

Get ready people

Freedom is here

There’s nothing left to fear!

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

books

 

 

 

Busy Mind #21

Previous Condition

I woke up shaking

Alone in my room

The gray sheet-a twisted rope

Breathing as if from running

Motionless-for the longest while

Laying on my back-spread-eagle

Staring up at the spackled ceiling

With ear in tune to other sounds from the house:

A teapot whistling

A smoker’s sputum  filled, hacking cough

A long drawn out yawn

My dog barking at the approaching mail man

Ma’s bacon sizzling on the cast iron griddle

In the shower, a girly voice singing Taylor Swift‘s “Mean”

The  soft hum of the 5 blade fan over my bed

 

I had been dreaming

I woke up trembling-not sure why

The dream’s detail’s eluded me

I was certain I was running

This was recurrent

A previous condition

For a prolonged time; no dreams would come

Then with out notice, they’d return

A whole flood of them- a torrent even

I’d put off going to bed ’til I’d succumb to my restlessness

R.E.M. would kick in-to suck me into the vortex

I’d fall asleep frightened-to awaken terrified

I’d calm myself by listening to Ludwig’s “Moonlight Sonata

Watching the smoke from a neglected pipe rise to my spackle ceiling.

 

I’d run away all of my life

At 16 I ran from my ma

Left her a note in chicken scratch

Told her not to worry

When I was 22, she died

Then the runaway returned

To her still, cold body waiting for me in a pine box

The old place-resembled a macabre masterpiece by Goya

The house stood naked, paint pealing-like a harlot in need of a manicure

An old rain coat stuffed in the front bay window

Bright yellow police taped blared at me:

“STAY THE HELL OUT VAGRANTS AND RUNAWAYS!”

That’s what my eyes read

My eyes red-from stinging tears

Once again,returned all of my fears

I stared at my reflection

In the old cracked oval gold leaf mirror

Left outside on the porch

Why did I run?

Where did I go?

Did nothing change?

I was still the same man…

That guy with a previous condition.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

Image

Altered Book: Exploring Literature/Lynn Altenbernd

Busy Mind # 15

Preacher’s Kid

The preacher’s daughter

Quasi perfection

Like a Marlon Brando movie

Something  forbidden

A short ride

Ten miles out

He rode away

Leaving Chloe there-hurting,scared and ashamed

The product of unspoken pain

No money to feed another

Chloe wished to die

Tainted child-product of an evil act

Was Chloe a monster?

Her bottomless grief-a maelstrom of darkness

The pages fell shut

What time was it?

Time to go back

No more family secrets.

Eva Santiago copyright 2013

 

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Altered Book: Family Secrets/Cheryl Zach

 

Busy Mind #10

I came upon this great site to help stimulate my muse. I will share the poems I come up with. This is fun to do and gets my creative juices flowing. Happy hunting, poetry really IS everywhere, you just have to pay attention 🙂

Cut the bindings off  books found at a used book store. Find poems in the pages by the process of obliteration. Put pages in the mail and send them all around the world. Lather, rinse, repeat.

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2uRi6r/www.logolalia.com/alteredbooks/

The Plunge

The merry group gathered

Talking with the fishermen

At the edge of the ice

To show me the fish swimming in the water

And I plunged feet first

Through the opening into the water below

I resurfaced in the same spot

Shocked but intact and howling

The doctor was summoned

And he pronounced me well.

-Eva Santiago copyright 2013

 

Altered book: ELENA by Judith Egan

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BUSY MIND #5

Roam if you want to.
Go where you want to.
Feel what you want, or don’t.
See what you want or, don’t.
Say what you want,or don’t.
Laugh only if it’s funny to you.
Cry only if it moves you.
Own yourself and be proud of yourself.
Hug if you want to or don’t.
Kiss if you feel like it or don’t.
Dance in the rain or don’t.

Walk when you feel like walking and don’t let anyone make you run if you don’t want to.

Share only if you want to because sometimes there are things that only belong to you.

Say no when you want to.
Say yes only when you want to.
Say, “ I love you.” Only when you want to and not because it was expected of you.

Be shy when you want to and when you want to be bold do it.
Be true only to you and own your truth.
Dance with someone or alone-but do it anyway.
Go where there are people or stay in alone.
Look at the sunset or don’t.
Write a love letter and keep it forever or not.
Write a love story and share or take it to your grave.
Compose a love song and sing it or not.
Whatever you do, do it for you!

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

BUSY MIND #4

Travel Light
Don’t take any luggage.
Leave the old worn out dusty baggage behind-
it won’t serve you on this leg of your travels.
Travel light just with your thoughts, your pen and paper.
Let your mind photograph what’s important:
His smile, his holding your hand for the first time,
his first long, arduous kiss,
his long gaze not wanting to let go-
for fear you might disappear into his heart.
Travel light with only the clothes you own on your back.
Travel light and worry not about what you will eat tomorrow.
Travel light –
let your feet carry you into the unknown parts of your destiny.
Travel light and know that your bed and pillow are already provided for.

Travel light and carry only your torch of truth and conviction.
Travel light: It’s how His Spirit travels.
Travel light shedding years of misery and trauma by the road side.
Let the misery and trauma fall as thorns and thistles by the way side.
Travel light or progress won’t happen.
Travel light and remember the old paths only as reference points.
Travel light and follow the new map;
the old,torn, wrinkled map  will get you lost.
Travel light and let the wings of your dreams carry you to new lands,
foreign to you alone who’ve not been there.
Travel light because your moving spirit journeys under no other circumstances.
Travel light because you’re growing and turning more in the image of the one who gave you wings.
Travel light because to stay in the same place all of your life is the death of your destiny.

-EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

 

Busy Mind #3

 

CARRY ON!
Carry on I shall because that is all I know to do.
When things are tough I carry on.
When my feelings are as tumultuous waves in a deep mysterious sea-
I carry on.
When my heart is a labyrinth of unexplainable emotions I carry on.
When my soul is divided, confused and bemused I carry on.
When defeat knocks at my door I carry on.
When victory embraces me into her sweet bosom I carry on.
When my feet are too tired to walk,
I dance as my way of showing life that I will indeed carry on.
When disappointment is consistent I carry on.
When loneliness jeers at me
Telling me I shall be forever alone, I carry on.
When fear encroaches upon me and I am scared of even my own waning shadow I carry on.
When tears are all that are forthcoming
I smile through my tears,
Showing adversity that I can indeed carry on.
When the burden I carry seems so heavy
that I feel crushed to fine powder, I carry on.
When lying tongues wickedly wag at me
Pointing accusatory fingers in my face, I carry on.

When I am looking for my soul mate I carry on because I know everyday that dawns on me I am getting closer to finding him or he finding me.

When I run out of words because the pain is excruciating I carry on.
When all I can do is wince I carry on.
When I see no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow I carry on.
When I see more darkness than light I carry on.
When I fall on the floor,
My soul feeling like a crumbled up piece of scribbled on paper, I carry on.

When My soul feels tarnished as copper no one has cleaned in years-
I carry on.

When I feel the silence threatening to drown my voice out
So I am never heard from again I carry on.
When I feel my light being dimmed as a swarm of locusts, by the chaos swarming around me,
I carry on.
When I don’t know what to feel I carry on.
When I don’t know what to say I carry on.
When I am not sure about anything I carry on.
When there are no answers I carry on.

When my questions far out number the grains of sand on the beach of my intended destiny and purpose, I carry on.

When I know that my knowledge and the depth of my understanding are not enough to help me through, I carry on.

When I feel like I am being tossed about in the wild ocean of my heart with out an anchor for my vessel, I carry on.

When I see no light house in sight and I feel my vessel is just about to ship wreck on the shores of my uncertainty, I carry on….WILL YOU??

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013 

 

 

 

BUSY MIND #2

IN PLAIN SIGHT

She met the curse of her lover’s eye. That day she’d never forget. Magdalena went from feeling safe in Pablo’s embrace to sleeping in the enemy’s arms. A chill pierced her being and she was heart-broken. Magdalena never knew love could crush with such an indomitable force. Once Pablo’s gaze melted her as gold in a furnace; now his eyes caused her to want to flee to the remotest part of the universe , as far away from his hateful, scornful glare. Magdalena knew things would never be the same since she saw his hatred for her there, in plain sight.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

 

Busy Mind #1

Today I will begin a series of posts that will reflect what I’ve been going through lately. Seasons come and go in our lives and we must embrace them all or be miserable. I always write, however I am not always working on my next best short story or poem. During those times I find myself also reading and studying; which make up a part of a writer’s life. When I am not doing the aforementioned, I am LIVING LIFE! I hope you enjoy this new series and write me because feed back from my wonderful readers makes my day!

LLUVIA RAINS

Lluvia de esperanza rain on this heart
Un dia todo adolorido
Today it’s whole again

Raindrop
Raindropsfallingdownonher
Maskingthetearsherheartsheds
One drop…one tear
Raindrops from a fearful heart

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

Raindrop

April is National Poetry Month: Day 30

Well friends, April draws to a close and so does National Poetry Month. I went to a poetry event last Friday where I participated as a judge in a poetry contest for seniors at the Heritage Senior Park, here in Henderson. As a guest poet, I had the opportunity to read excerpts from my new book, Salsa! The Taste of Life. Other guest poets in attendance were, Jo Wilkins, Andres Fragoso Jr, and Toni Pacini. We picked the following poem as the winner .  Lorraine Anderson is 85 years old, she has been writing poetry all of her life and this was her first time sharing her work with a group. Congratulations Lorraine!!!

The Changing Times

 

I think of days that have gone by when mother baked her bread.

Back in those days one didn’t buy, but made such things instead.

I could smell the rich aroma from the oven that was hot.

And I’ll not forget the homemade bread that Dad and I once got.

There was something in its flavor, in its added bit of zest.

That made you feel, beyond a doubt that homemade bread was best.

 

But times have changed, the women folk no longer seem to bake.

They buy from the stores that stock the things commercial bakers make.

The cakes and pies and other things no longer have the touch.

Of homemade things that man once said he liked so much.

Those good old days when homemade bread was wholesome, fresh and plain,

Will forever outlive those things today all wrapped in cellophane.

 

Yes, times have changed and in a way I think that it is best.

The woman who once baked her bread has now more time to rest.

She need not watch an oven with an ever watchful eye.

All this has passed and now belongs to days that have gone by.

But I, for one, remember and more than often said,

The better days were back in the days when men had homemade bread!

-Lorraine Anderson copyright 2013

 

 

 

 

 

I am including this poem, that came in the top 3 picks; I enjoyed it so much when I first read it because of its universal theme of  how we evolve in our lives.

 

And The Mountain Moved

I am the little child full of love and laughter and family

And the mountain was huge and scary and far away

I am the teenager scared and scarred

And the mountain is still huge and far away

I am the young adult with stars in my eyes, love in my life,marriage and children.

And the mountain seems remote and far away from my life.

I am the middle aged woman who worked all of her married life, her children are gone,  and it’s time to find out who she is.

And the mountain appears closer.

I am the wise old woman who knows who she is and where she belongs and what her legacy is.

And the mountain is within me.

-Helene Moore copyright 2013