I’m back!  I have been in a poetic phase these past few weeks. I have several stories swimming around in my head and when I sit down to write, poetry flows forth. I am one of those who does not contend with the muse. Instead, I just let her guide me along. Poetry for me is  introspective; often times dealing with deep emotions . So for now, I will share some of the poetry I have been reading at The Poets Unite! Poetry Jam sponsored by The Henderson Poets.

Guess what? The other night I was asked to play the congas during  Black Bart‘s Open mic night  at The Coffee House! You see, I am rather shy when it comes to playing music in public. I am not sure if it has to do with my uncle making me play the clarinet in the 7th grade; I was so bad at it I could never play it without making it squeak. So during the often dreaded band concerts, I would just hold the instrument to my mouth and act like I was playing. That’s how I got through 🙂 Or maybe I had decided to just play in the privacy of my home because I’m not too sure if I can even play. Whatever the case, I stepped out of that fearful box and I did it. I had a blast too!

So now YOU go on and try that thing you have been so scared to do! Just do it once and see what goes! Whether you do it like a pro or not, who cares! Just do it to say you did. LITS= LIFE IS TOO SHORT 🙂


There is no one here
Not one single soul
There is no one there
Who would really care

There is no one close by
To help carry your load
Te tell you it’s fine
When all you want to do is cry

Rush! Rush! Rush!
That’s what goes on
In this life all people do is
Push , push, push

There is no more balance
There is extreme
The pendulum always swinging
And no one cares to dance

No one stops to smell the flowers
Take in a sunset
Not even to hug a small child
And slow down for a while

You’ll die if you don’t
You’ll miss it all if you don’t

-EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2012

Poets Unite! Poetry Jam

Last night The Henderson poets met again at the Coffee House; Thanks Don Watkins for giving us a home and what a nice casa! I am sharing some of the poems I read at the poetry jam  with you today. Last night we heard from some new voices and that’s what makes hosting a poetry group so exciting. As the adage goes, you can’t judge a book by its cover, because if you do , you’ll never know what you can miss. Poetry opens us up to the souls and hearts of others. When people take the courage to share their own personal work in front of a group, I applaud them because they are putting  their lives out there on display; that is not easy to do. I look forward to more poetry jams and I want to tell you that I absolutely LOVE what I do 🙂

I think I may have jinxed the Detroit Tigers 🙂 I wrote this poem on the first day of the World Series, not having any idea that The Giants would take it.

Giants VS Tigers

How can a giant beat out a tiger? Or how can a tiger beat out a giant? That’s easy! They get together and play ball!
1st Inning: The giants fight off the tigers with their baseball bats.
2nd Inning: The tigers maul the umpires over a couple of bad calls.
3rd Inning: The Jolly Green Giant scores a home run on a pitch by Tigger who is busy jumping around as usual.
4th Inning: Tigger shuts out the Jolly Green Giant.
5th Inning: The Jolly Green Giant hit’s a grand slam. The frozen vegetables in the stands go wild!
6th Inning: Tigger holds back the Giants and shuts them down by not giving them any runs, just a single base hit.
7th Inning: The tigers and Giants are tied 4 a piece in this the last game of the world series.
8th Inning: The Jolly green Giant steals 3rd base all to the tiger’s great dismay. Jolly brings it home and now Giants lead Tigers 5-4!!
9th Inning: Tigger throws the last pitch to Jolly who strikes out. Game over the Giants send the streak of tigers streaking down left field! And that’s how the giants beat the tigers!!

-EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2012




Word Picture #6

WORDS: They come cheap for some people. Someone tells you they love you and you just met them, raise your brow and question it. I love you, Te Amo can be thrown around at a whim these days. Those words are power and can render an affection starved soul weak. Don’t say them if they mean nothing to you because truth is, they can devastate . Or if they don’t ruin, cheap I love you’s can make a soul numb. It’s very much like the songs played on the radio; when a new hit is overplayed, the newness of the tune wears out quickly and soon what you enjoyed, you grow to despise. Same thing happens with prematurely, overly spoken I love you’s .

Oh wait, you might think you can never say I love you too much. You can never have enough love right? Don’t say I love you to someone if you aren’t prepared to back it up with action. Love is sacred, let your I love you’s be that way too.

He says, “ I love you.” But then he slaps her.
El dice,” Te amo” y se lo dice a todas.
I love you, Te amo, Je ‘taime, Ich Liebe Sie,
Powerful words,
Use them wisely.
Say them when you know they are true.
Say them to warm a heart-
Without offering false hope in what can never be.

I love you, Te amo, Je ‘taime, Ich Liebe Sie,
Don’t withold them,
When they need to be said.
Don’t make your loved one a beggar.
Don’t wait ‘til tomorrow,
What needs to be said-
Have the guts to say it today

I love you, Te amo, Je t’aime, Ich Libe Sie,
Say it for all the right reasons.
Say it ‘cause you mean it;
Otherwise throw it all into the sea


Tickled Tuesday

So it’s Tuesday and I’ve been busy; who hasn’t right? After a long week-end it always seems rough getting things going. But alas we get over it and do what we must. Last night I went to the Henderson Writer’s Group ,the local writer’s group I belong to. I read one of my stories from my new book, Salsa! The Taste of Life which is going live very soon and I was very pleased with the group’s reaction to my story after I read it. There is something wonderful about receiving the approval of your peers.






Since last night, I’ve been in a great mood so I wanted to pass the cheer along with these funny pictures. Remember this week is a short one so hang in there because Friday will be here before we know it! 🙂

365 Snap Shots of Life: Day 221

Hello readers! I was away for the past few days and I missed blogging! It occurred to me that the edits I’ve shared so far from my up coming book, SALSA! THE TASTE of LIFE, are mostly poems. I don’t want you to think that this book  is a volume of poems only. It is a volume of mostly short stories and some poetry. I had to edit out more poems and less stories. So I will give you an edited story from my book, to give you a taste of my story telling. This story I wrote based on an experience I had when I was a young teen living with my uncle in Germany.  I look forward to giving you more tastes of SALSA! As you read this keep in mind that I thoroughly look forward to your feedback, so comment away! 🙂

March17, 1981

Dear Diary,

Today, a most peculiar thing happened; we were driving along the road that connects Spangdahlem to Bitburg. Being that it was Sunday, the driver was leisurely meandering to our destination, a heavenly café in Bitburg, for a nice piece of Black Forest cake and refreshments. Spring was fast approaching; the countryside was beginning to be dotted with Holstein sitting on grassy meadows. The snow that had lain stoically for all those winter months was beginning to vanish without a trace.

Suddenly, we came upon a lone traveler; he grew bigger and bigger the closer we drew to him. The driver lowered his window, and the elderly man approached our orange, 1970s Volkswagen station wagon. The man asked the driver in English laced with a strong German accent if we could take him to Bitburg. We were told to make room for our guest, so we all squeezed tightly like Pringles potato chips in a can, and the nomad sat in the middle between my cousin and me.

I was glad he sat next to me so I could study him. The loan wanderer was around seventy; his hair was white, and he had plenty of it. There was a glimmer in his eyes of azure that made him look almost boyish.

“What’s your name?” My curiosity had overcome me, and I had to ask. He perused my face, and then he answered, “Herr (Mr.) Vogt, and what is yours?”

I responded, “I’m Helena. Why are you hitchhiking?”

He looked at me a bit puzzled, and then he said, “Hitch hiking? Not hardly. I was hiking along this road because I am on a mission.”

Suddenly, I felt my arms getting covered with chill bumps. I had to know more about this mysterious stranger, so I continued, “Where are you from, Herr Vogt?”

“Oh, from all over the place, really.”

“But you had to have started somewhere, right?” I prodded him. He didn’t seem to mind my young inquisitiveness; he answered, trying to conceal a mischievous grin, “Well, let’s just say that where I originated is somewhere far, far away from here.” We rode in silence, and then Herr Vogt offered, “You know, little one, the wind blows here, and it blows there, yet nobody knows where it comes from or where it is going.”

I was puzzled at first, and then I knew what he meant. “Are you one of those messengers that God sends to help people out?”

 He answered, “Yes, I am sent to you today.”

Jokingly, I asked him, “What’s in your suitcase?”

He smiled at me and said, “There are many places I have to visit before I report back to my boss, so I need to look like I fit in.” I settled into a satisfied silence. His presence was as a warm, wool coat around me that made me feel protected. We didn’t say much for the rest of the ride, and when we reached Bitburg, the driver asked Herr Vogt where he would like to be dropped off. He told the driver to stop at the light, and we pulled over so Herr Vogt could make his exit. As he was leaving, he shook my hand, and he looked deep into my mesmerized eyes, right down to the core of my soul. Then he departed. I tried to look for him, but I could not find him. He vanished right from my sight.

I’ll never forget Herr Vogt; his presence is still with me as I write this entry in my journal. I entertained a stranger that Sunday afternoon; he kept me company. I know he is one of God’s messengers who came by my side for a little while. He didn’t have to explain his mission because I’ve always known in my heart of hearts that God sent him to let me know that He loves me. I felt it that day.

-Eva Santiago Copyright 2012

365 Snap Shots of Life : Day 215

Salsa! The Taste of Life, my new book soon to be released is a volume of short stories  and poems. For the past few posts I’ve shared some of the material I had to edit because it would have made too big of a book to market.  This poem I wrote is about one of the closest friends I’ve ever had. Every once in a while, God will send someone into our lives with such a sweet spirit, that when they are no longer a part of our life, we feel their absence much like a piece of dried bread misses its butter 🙂 As you read this, let your friends know how much you appreciate them!

The Song of the Swallow

This morning I was down,

that is until I heard.

What did I hear?

The song, el canto de la golondrina.


What a breathtaking sound!

What sound?

Pues la cancion de la golondrina.



It lifted my spirit,

soothed my weary soul,

brought peace to my home.

What was that? I heard you ask-



Pues la dulce cancion de la golondrina.

My restless children heard it,

and peace returned to them at once.

They cheered as they heard the melodic sound.



Otra vez, caramba! What sound you ask?

Pues la bella melodia de la golondrina.

No se como explicarlo.

All I know is the song of that grace filled swallow

set to flight, ten thousand of hell’s demons,

and once again peace was restored to my heart.

-EVA SANTIAGO Copyright 2012

365 Snap Shots of Life: Day 116


Rest now sweet child,
don’t be scared,
stay here for a while.
Tired, lonely and sad,
Hush, hush now.
I have you.
I know you.

Rest now my sweet child,
take this love I give,
make it worth your while.
You don’t have to do another thing,
no more proving yourself to me,
stop working so hard,
you don’t have to have to any more.
Rest now my sweet child,
my love for you never runs out.


Everything about you-concerns me.
I know whom you love.
I know your secret longings.
I know every little detail.
I know why you laugh,
when you really want to cry.
Stay here and rest a while.
Hush hush now,
you are my sweet child.

Eva Santiago ©

My daughter does her own rendition of “SAFE and SOUND” by Taylor Swift on this video. Enjoy your Wednesday!

365 Snap Shots of Life Blog Challenge: Day 15

January 15,2012

The End

My daughter Esther has always had a fascination with horses. I would hear well meaning people tell me that it’s natural for young girls to have a love of horses. Well, she’s not so little anymore and she still adores them. I used to feel badly that I don’t have the money to get her one. As parents we wish we could give our kids everything they want. But one day I remembered what my uncle in whose home I grew up in told me when I was a kid: ” If I gave you all the things you want, you wouldn’t have anything to look forward to when you’re grown up.”  So one day I told  that to my girl  and she looked up at me with those gorgeous long eyelashes that could sweep the moon right into my hands and she said,” It’s ok Mama, I understand. So could you draw me one instead? ”  I told her I wasn’t sure I could do that and she said she knew I could since she’s seen my other art work. So I set about to do it and I pulled it off! Stay tuned because tomorrow that will be the picture I post. It’s wonderful when your own kids believe in you!

30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 13

Please refer back to my earlier posts and read what this challenge is about so that the later posts make sense. :)

Day 13 Question# 13: What was one negative in your life that you were somehow able to turn into something quite positive?

Answer: When I first read this question, I decided to write about the very first thing that popped into my mind. I grew up in my uncle‘s home and he is the typical male chauvinist with an extra added twist; he is a Latino macho man who thinks women are to be seen and not heard. Back then the message I was getting was that I was not to have my own voice, or opinions. You’re a girl, therefore no one wants to hear from you.

So  I began to journal and really made friends with pen and paper pretty quick at a young age. Being that children long for the approval and recognition of their parental figures, I was no exception. One day I ventured out of my shell and I showed him a poem I had penned, which I was proud of because I felt in my heart it was a good piece. I took it to him and I asked him to read it. He did his usual looking down at me through the end of his bifocals which were perched on the end of his bulbous nose much like a surfer trying to balance his board on the crest of a wave.

I stood there frozen, holding my breath and trying to hush the beating of my heart which felt much like a freight train barreling down a dark tunnel at top speed inside my chest. I tried hard not to focus on my uncle’s’ blank face so I looked around in the place trying to count the people around me instead. Finally he finished. I wondered what took him so long to read just a few lines of my prose. The terrible silence continued and all I wanted to do was make a mad dash for the door and forget it all. Then my uncle pushed his military issue glasses back up his snooty nose and then he spoke,

” Well, you know this isn’t any good. Every good piece of poetry  MUST rhyme and since your doesn’t, this isn’t good at all.” He gave me my journal back and turned back to his newspaper. I was dismissed just like a scullery maid.

“That’s it?’ I thought. I was in the 8th grade at the time and I had been reading plenty of poetry, I was falling madly in love with Shakespeare’s love sonnets. I knew for a fact my uncle was being narrow minded because not all of the poetry I was reading   from the  greats I was studying had to rhyme. Being that I was quite shy and also understanding that my uncle would never hear my views, I kept my thoughts to myself.

I didn’t let his insensitivity stop me. No sir! Not when I had been encouraged by Mrs. Gillard in the 6th grade who told me I had a gift and that one day she hoped to see my first book of poetry. Her words have been the steam behind my engine all of these years. Yes, my uncle hurt me terribly but I chose to ignore his biting words and I embraced my teacher’s honey coated positive words.

And I’m so glad I did because ever since then, I have published my first bookand I’m working on publishing my 2nd book; which happens to be a volume of short stories and poetry. When my second book comes out I plan to mail it to my uncle with a thank you note. Because of his mistreatment, I learned to turn the negative around and prove to myself that I can do my dreams; no matter what dirt people throw in my face to blind me along the way.

I am writing this in the hopes that if you’ve been discouraged and kept from following your dreams, DO NOT LISTEN to those haters who tell you you can’t. Turn it around and prove them wrong because that’s the power that you have to hush those voices of opposition.