LIGHT BEINGS

LIGHT BEINGS

She’s the pebble that reflects the sun’s warm rays

She’s the paper he jots down all of his pent up frustrations upon

She’s the pen through which all of his hazy dreams ooze unto the blank lines of his journal

She’s the cracked pavement, a stage his shadow dances on, proving he is a being of light

He’s the wind who caresses the chimes, so her soul can sing when under duress

He’s the ray of light that escapes her heavily draped windows on the darkest, coldest of nights

He’s the anchor that grounds her storm tossed soul, keeping her from shipwreck

They’re each other’s: Pebble

Paper

Pen

Cracked pavement

Chime

Ray of light

Anchor

Together they ride the turbulent ocean waves

They are each other’s life raft, life saver, light house and final destination

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2015

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WARS

APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH!!!
Inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, National Poetry Month is now held every April, when schools, publishers, libraries, booksellers, and poets throughout the United States band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture.www.poets.org/npm/

WARS
Everyone I know is at war
Some with themselves
Some with others
Wars are ensuing all around
Wars of the will
Wars of the aged
Wars of the youth-against an all corrupt machine
Wars of the mind
Battle of wits
Leave you feeling empty
Devoid of feeling
Dejected-rejected
From time immemorial
We’ve been at war
Yes, this little sphere of green and blue
We all call home has known nothing but war:
2 brothers fought
Cain murdered Abel in cold blood
Only because he was jealous
Father against son
Son against father
That was King David’s plight
Then David warred after a wife not his own
Killing a innocent man on account of his lust

I wonder if the earth ever weeps
When all it’s known is war

This group against that one
It all starts out small
Then it’s no longer brother against brother
Soon the conflict turns neighbor against neighbor
Town against town
City against city
Pretty soon it becomes nation against nation
Until it blows up in to a full fledged world war
And what has all this accomplished?
Are we really better off?
Do we have more oil?
Do we have more land?
Do we have more of whatever the hell we went to war for?
Are we richer for it?
Of course not!

Because think of it:
Very seldom does war bring LOVE

Now a days an unborn baby has to war to exist
A young woman conceives
Then she’s cast into an arena of ideas and notions
Demanding she end that precious live God gave her
In ancient Rome people went before hungry lions
When they opposed the status quo
To oppose the status quo of our day-Is to be fed lies by the starving lions
Who seek to kill, steal and destroy

So where are we today?
Are we better off than the old Roman empire?
We may not be viewing their bloody sports in blood drenched arenas
But they’re destroying others who think differently
Who dare to stand alone
Just dare to not conform
Try it one time
You’ll quickly find yourself out in the cold
Alone and ostracized
By the greater majority
Don’t be fooled
Though the ancient blood spattered arenas have long since vanished
Today we have:
Churches
Public schools
Corporations
Hospitals
Don’t conform in those modern day arenas
Voice your unique thoughts
And you’ll end up in the lion’s den
We are at war!
Wars have never stopped
We are at war
When did war usher in true peace?

Think on this:
Very seldom does war bring LOVE

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2014

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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 22

THE LAST TEXT

I love dance because I truly believe it is poetry in motion. I’ve always had a special place in my heart for dancers. Please watch this powerful video where dancers bring to life a very real threat to our safety every time we get in a car. These young dancers put to motion what words do to warn us. Keep in mind that texting and driving are as deadly as being drunk or high while trying to drive. BE SAFE!

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 15

Púrpura

Haze of purple on my curtains

Dancing,swaying on my window

Side to side, Back and forth

Of this I am quite certain:

Cool breezes blow in from the north,

Of this I am quite certain:

Heat’s a comin’ by the fourth.

 

Hazy purple hues of grape,

I lazily drift away

to a time when things weren’t better

and I was ok  ‘cuz I didn’t know better.

 

Hazy purple grape and lilac

I’m now in a better place

Hazy purple, grape and lavender

Lookin’ in the mirror I see my face

This is a place of surrender

My memories no one can replace.

-Eva Santiago COPYRIGHT 2013