A WORLD OBSCENE

A WORLD OBSCENE

A world obscene

Is this what they get from us?

Where wrong is right

And right is wrong

Ever since the lines got blurred

And our cosmic speech became slurred

A world obscene

Is that what we’re leaving them?

Can we fix it?

Do we dare try?

Do we even want to?

Or are we too busy passing the collection plate

Hoping against hope

Religion wins their precious souls

We must step up!

Own what we’ve done

Let’s begin by admitting we didn’t care

As much as we were supposed to

Let’s create for them a new scene

I beg of you

Let’s not leave them a world undone

Let’s not leave them a world obscene.

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2015

45

2 years ago, he left for good…

Our good, that is

2 years later, things that had to fall in place,have

Things that had to run by the wayside,did

Things that are still together

Are holding beautifully and without much effort

2 years ago, I didn’t know if I’d make it on my own

2 years later, indeed, I have!!

2 years ago, I needed reassurance that my life altering decision was the right one

Not just for me;for my kids too

2 years later, I only wonder why I waited so long

2 years ago, I wondered If I would regret ending it

2 years later, I stand firmly by my decision and I boldly proclaim:

I regret very little in this short life span I’ve lived

I have loved walking this path

Here’s to the many steps that I’ve left to take!!!

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2015

Us Parents, We’re Weird Like That

We hope our kids are growing

Then get sad when they do

Us parents, we’re weird like that

We hope they grow more independent

And when they take off on their own

We cry

We hope they need us less and less

Once they do, we wring our hands and pace the floor with worry

We hope our kids leave the nest

And once they do,

We’re devastated

We hope they find true love

And once they do,

We hope they won’t have too many heart breaks

We hope our kids grow up to be amazing people

And once they do

We hope they don’t forget us

Ahhh yes, parental complexity knows no bounds!

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2015

Moments Add Up To LOVE

Don’t worry about what comes next

Enjoy the moments as they are given you

If there is to be another

Enjoy that one and the moments after that

In this way

Moment by moments shared is how 2 grow in love

You  grow in love gradually

Moment by moment

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2015

Moment by moment…

Eva Santiago copyright 2015

Old Things Are New Again

Old Things Are New Again

Old things are new again

New things get old fast

You can’t recycle new things ’cause they’re not old yet

Old things get dubbed classic

New things get dubbed bomb

But can classic be bomb?

Can bomb be classic?

Old things are called antique

But when you buy an antique , is it new to you?

Old things get handed down

Can new things be traded up?

Old things create nostalgia

A longing for yesteryear

New creates euphoric feelings for the short term

Once you get your new things home

The newness quickly wears off

Are old memories better than new ones?

If you’re not making new memories

Are you recycling the old ones?

New is expected to learn from old

But will old humble itself to learn from new?

Are old sayings and proverbs wiser than new ad slogans and catchy song lyrics?

Can an old flame be rekindled to what it once was?

Can a new love spark a flame to burn into eternity?

EVA SANTIAGO COPYRIGHT 2015

 

 

MUJER HERMOSA

Beautiful woman that you are
How could it be that you strayed so far
How could it be you never saw
That you are a brightly lit star

Beautiful woman that you are
Why did you walk on
Why didn’t you look in the mirror
Te escondiste en la mar.

Beautiful woman, lovely is your name
You’re all what they say and so much more
Now it’s your time go on and proclaim-
“I’ve changed for the better and I’ll never be the same!”

-Eva Santiago copyright 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Word Picture #13

She sits there in the cold
A hooded head
Hair face a wrinkled map
Missing her teeth
She is far from dead

She sits there in the cold
Her tiny frame
Trying to be bold
And she has no one to hold

She sits there in the cold
Her aged eyes
Tell you no lies
Her soul she never sold

She sits there in the cold
Folding her fragile hands
In the folds of her coat
Her life story is hidden in the sands

-EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2012

365 Snap Shots of Life: Day 201

I am so happy that now the editing phase of my new book is done! WHEW! It was not nearly as terrible as my sometimes exaggerating mind had made it out to be. In fact, I GREW from working with an editor! Thank you Amber Losson from Tate Publishing company for helping me to sharpen my writing and polish up the content 🙂

I am going to start posting some of the poems I cut out from Salsa! The Taste of Life. They didn’t make it into the first volume of this book because it would have made the book to long and more difficult to market. Yes, you read correctly, this is a first volume of I what I hope will be more in the future.  I will keep you updated on the progress of my book!

HAIR!

 

Hair! Hair! Hair!

Hair is everywhere.

It’s neither here nor there.

Those who have none, or very little, say,

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

Those who have too much say,

“Hey! I feel like such a bear.”

The curly heads cry,

“Wish mine was twig straight.”

The twig straight reply,

“Why can’t we have spirals?”

 

 

It’s all such a terrible bore,

when you have hair galore.

 

We all go on and on

about a bunch of dead cells.

We spend millions of dollars

on all manner of fancy hair products,

that never quite deliver

their sales pitch promise.

 

 

But there is one thing to be said about hair,

the more you treat it and tease it,

one day you’ll wake up to find,

your head has become quite bare.

So be kind to your locks,

treat them with care!

-Eva Santiago copyright 2012

365 Snap Shots of Life: Day 127

I went to a get together last night and I met this young woman. It was her birthday and her appearance inspired me to write this poem in her honor. This is my “picture” of the day. I hope you are enjoying your Sunday and as you prepare for your week, be thankful for everything you have and everyone in your life 🙂

MAZE of HAIR

You peer at me through a maze of hair,
your eyes are dark, crying in despair.
You wonder if I care.
As you peek at me through your maze of hair,
your demons roar from the lion’s lair.
I know deep down,
no one in your short life has ever been fair.
You peek at me through your maze of hair,
your eyes looking at mine- a sacred stare.
Baby, I wish I could hold you.
Baby, I wish to tell you I care.
Baby, I want to soothe you-
wanna let you know I’m there.

What happened to you- I ponder and wonder,
to make you hide behind all your hair.
Your scars you wear on your face,
a cry for help from a soul in disrepair.
Your mask is your hair.
Your demons peer at me from the lion’s lair.
Our eyes connect for a moment- in a sacred stare.
Your cuts in your flesh,the slashes on your face,
you bleed out your pain,
but there’s one who’s already taken your place.
You’re numb.
You say you don’t feel anything.
You’re numb.
You say you don’t care.

But as you hide in your maze of hair,
I know you think opposite.
You hide in your maze of hair,
‘cause all inside is a big ‘ole mess,
broken to bits and in disrepair,
waiting for someone to sort out the mess.
Your demons scream from the lion’s lair,
they call out to stay away-
“Don’t you come near- don’t even dare!”
Your demons are numb.
Your demons are dumb.
They have no power.
In the dark they cower.

As you hide behind all of your hair,
the light has come,
darkness cannot mingle with light.
Light apprehends the night.
And the demons no longer fight.

Eva Santiago © 2012

 

365 Snap Shots of Life: Day 102

RE-SPECT = LOOK AGAIN

It is a tough thing to face daily that a loved one is dying right before my eyes. He went from being a man with a spring in his step when I first met him. After more than 2 decades of knowing him, his steps are weighed down with the cares of life. When I first met him his honey colored eyes were alive with hope and now, they are opaque and the light in them significantly dimmed. When I first met him, he had a full hair of beautiful thick, wavy,soft hair. Now his scalp shows through in patches and it feels brittle to my fingertips. A long time ago he never stopped- always wound up tighter than a clock. Now, he needs naps just to stay alive it seems. And they’re not little cat naps; the kind that rejuvenate and nourish the soul. He naps and I fear he’ll one day not wake up at all. He said he wasn’t addicted when we first met. He said he could always quit. Now that she has taken him for good, I see him bound by her oppressive chains and all I can do is weep because there’s nothing else to do for someone who is  deep in the clutches and final stages of addiction.

My anger is gone. I used to be so upset at him for not taking care of himself. Now, I have a newfound respect. I’m looking again and I see a dying person who deserves to be treated with something he never ever received in his whole existence- Dignity.