Category: Just Believe (My Life Story)

These blogs are a true story of a young man named Junior Rendon and his struggle with kidney failure.

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 #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 16

In light of  yesterday’s tragedy let’s pause and reflect: Terrorism is not random, it is meant for an intended and specific target. Fear is: False Evidence Appearing Real. So let us not bow down to their imposition; instead let’s face them with our faith….

 

One Word

Things go’round and ’round

What was, is now,yesterday’s funk-

And now it’s back to revisit.

 

The wise man said:

“The sun sees nothing new.”

The wise man said:

“The Word written today,

will one day save the dead.”

 

‘Round and ’round it all goes

A single drop of blood shed

Washes the world clean

And saves all who were dead.

-Eva Santiago Copyright 2013

 

 

April is National Poetry Month: Day 14

MASQUERADE BALL

A man with everything

Always lacks some one

Don’t let ’em fool ya

People who brag about being some one-

Are usually no one

People who think themselves poor

Are actually quite rich

People who think they’ve arrived

Usually have a gazillion miles to go

People who think they shine

Are actually a galore of bore

People who think they’re hot

Are truly not

People who think too much

Do the thinking of the ones who don’t

People who think they are blind,

can actually see..if they so choose to.

People who claim they can’t hear-

Hear more than they let on

People who think themselves puny-

are usually the hidden giants among us.

People who think they’ve nothing to say-

Are the ones you wish would stay

People who think themselves mighty

Should see themselves first as lowly

People who think themselves dull

Are actually great beacons of  light,

leading ships into harbor

that have lost all their sight.

People who think themselves wise

Are usually the ones who fall for all their lies

Don’t judge a book by its cover?

Yeah, don’t be too quick to judge a man

Sit still in his presence

Soon you’ll see his true lover.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

April is National Poetry Month: Day 12

Salad Anniversary -A book about Haiku

Your left hand,

exploring my fingers one by one-

maybe this is love

 

Secretly I try on your jacket,

drinking in your smell,

and strike a pose like James Dean

 

Remembering your joke,

I giggle out loud

In the middles of a crowd

 

Ring after ring tell me you’re out-

I listen fondly,

Grateful for any clue

 

Admonished to stop writing of romance-

What’s poetry, then?

Just another way to get a man?

-Machi Tawara copyright 1989

April is National Poetry Month: Day 9

POET QUOTES

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way.”
Pablo Neruda

“A dream deferred is a dream denied.”
Langston Hughes

“Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.”
Edgar Allan Poe

 

“Words have no power to impress the mind with the exquisite horror of their reality”
Edgar Allan Poe

“Be of love (a little) more careful than of anything.”
E E cummings

“Happy are those who dare courageously to defend what they love.”
Ovid

“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.”
Robert Frost

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

 

 

April is National Poetry Month:Day 6

The Saddest Poem

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.”

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don’t have her. To feel that I’ve lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn’t keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That’s all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else’s. She will be someone else’s. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.