Category: J.O.W.K. (journal of an over worked kid)

A SCREAM WITHIN A DREAM

A SCREAM WITHIN A DREAM

Loyal friend from Red Rock

Dumped her longtime partner in crime and billionaire

In Red Rock Canyon

She joked-waving away the praise,

” We’re just doing what we do here.”

Problem solver,loyal friend

Went her own way

Then returned to get involved

In gang crime spree

Marshalls  rushed in

To a dilapidated building in the middle of Death Valley

Sweltering in July

Hide out for The Vagos

Playground for The Bandidos

Home of the Wicked Riderz  on their green,mean machines.

 

All this she saw in her dream

 

She  awakened to a howling wind

Saw a beautiful dark-haired girl in Mexico City

In the room with a balcony view

Gauze curtains flapping madly in the wind-to and fro

Her face twisted in pain-a macabre painting done with her own blood

The sky above a blood orange

And no one heard her bone chilling screams

As her lover stabbed her repeatedly

Her blood spattered the walls

While the wind cursed like the ghost of Pancho Villa

 

All this she saw in her dream…

 

The Vagos

The Bandidos

And The Wicked Riderz

Fantasamas maldiciendo miles de maldiciones – Phantoms cursing a thousand curses in the wind

Like the ghost of Pancho Villa

The dreamer awakened-confused, heart pounding, bemused-

Was it real or just a dream?

 

EVA SANTIAGO copy right 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

April is National Poetry Month: Day 29

And that was then…
When the past was dark and never to be seen again
All your dreams written in pen,
Because they wouldn’t listen.
This is now…
You have to survive a war to stand out
Do stunts that they won’t allow
You cannot have doubt
You won’t survive now..
Then
It was Death knocking at your door
Now
The sails of freedom come to shore
And then it was the sound of being condemned
Now we fight till the end
Because that was their time
But it is ours to shine
That was then..
and this,
This is now —

-Esther Star copyright 2013

 

April is National Poetry Month: Day 7

A Competition Asked for a 2 line Rhyme with the most romantic first line but least romantic second line:

 Funniest Poem Ever

This is the winning poem. 

My darling,my lover,my beautiful wife
Marrying you screwed up my life.

I see your face when I am dreaming
That’s why I always wake up screaming

Kind,intelligent,loving and hot
This describes everything you are not.

I thought that I could love no other—
That Is until I met your brother.

Roses are red,violets are blue,sugar is sweet and so are you
But those roses are wiliting,the violets are dead, the sugar bowl’s empty and so is your head.

I want to feel your sweet embrace
But don’t take that paper bag off your face.

I love your smile, your face and your eyes—
Damn, I’m good at telling lies!

My love,you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?

My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except maybe,”Go to hell”

What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts tequila, one part lime

 

http://www.indiabroadband.net/jokes-humor/19660-funniest-poem-ever.html