I look into the mirror and what do I see? A new creation the old has been swept away into the sea- of forgetfulness. I have a new role to fill;the old one is obsolete, it has been swept away into the sea of forgetfulness, … Continue reading Mirror, Mirror…
Is there a bridge across forever?
The bridge across forever,
you get there after traveling a while.
The people you travel with,
those who help you hold it together;
they wait for you,
on the bridge across forever.
Who ever it was you think you lost,
whoever you think you left behind;
they’re waiting for you-
on the bridge across forever.
Once there you’ll do a lot of looking;
you’ll look in the past,
you’ll look in the present…
your future awaits you…on the bridge across forever.
Eva Santiago Copyright 2011
Pictures on my wall
make this house my home.
Pictures on the wall
tell visitors who I am,
where I’ve been,
what I have done.
Pictures on the wall-
keepsakes of loved ones close by
and others long gone.
Pictures on the wall
bring back who I used to be
and who I have become.
Pictures on the wall
whispering to me:
My kids are always growing tall,
they are growing up,
they WILL answer the call.
Pictures on the wall
take me far away places;
a snow covered mountain top,
a mystical cascading water fall.
Pictures on the wall
recollections of what we had
when it was just you and I;
when you held me tight
and made me yours.
Even after a fight,
and through many shed tears,
pictures on the wall
show I’ve faced many fears.
Pictures on the wall
after all these years,
quiet reminders
of all I hold dear.
Eva Santiago copyright 2011
I wanted to share this with you, it was written by one of the members in my writing group yesterday. She asked to be kept anonymous and I shall respect her wishes. One thing I must say is that this lovely young woman has the potential to be a great writer one day. By coming to my group, I hope to unlock the writer within her. Thanks my friend for allowing me to share this!
This place is very still, 
unlike the world around it
which bustles about it impatiently.
It is at rest,
yet somehow searching
like the people inside it:
Peaceful and wondering –
at least for the moment.
-ANONYMOUS 4-7-2011
There once was a girl with curly black hair.
She loved to write and her name was Clare.
She loved to sing which was on the beat;
and she liked to watch birds,
now that’s pretty neat!
Her writing was her talent-
she was so great.
She wrote a book,
which tops the cake.
Clare was on a journey-
the longest of all.
Everyone said she was the shiniest star.
Before she began her journey,
Clare packed all of her stuff;
the village people were sad,
they went out in a huff.
The journey was long,
the journey was short;
it was the best of them all.
Clare made a friend: Tammy Defoe.
Clare’s husband’s name was David Defoe.
She made a lot of friends- Manny and Jenny.
The greatest of them all was Clare’s own Pappy.
He was very strong; the strongest of them all.
He told her to quit writing!
For Clare, this was the worst of all.
She was sad, sad, sad and MAD.
Her pappy told her to cheer up;
he told her not to be sad but glad.
So on her journey Clare cheered herself up
she made many friends and she bought a pup.
When at last Clare’s journey ended
God brought her in a great big blast.
He had a big plan for Clare;
He gave her a family and she got her writing back.
I tell you this story is true:
There IS a BIG God and a writing girl too.
Her name is Clare- she doesn’t blend.
She has all her needs met,
God has been with Clare from beginning to end!
Raquel Brincat Copyright 2011
Eva Santiago 