To Satch Conta

He is no legendary baseball pitcher, be he is sure a legend to me.

To Satch
Sometimes I feel like I will never stop
Just go on forever
Till one fine mornin
I’m gonna reach up and grab me a handfulla stars
Swing out my long lean leg
And whip three hot strikes burnin down the heavens
And look over a God and say
How about that!!!!

I have come across this poem a dozen times. He told me this is where he got his nick name, but I am not really sure about that. But it is only today that I have actually felt the connection of this poem to me. Seemingly, it is trying to tell me something. The words stop, forever, mornin, stars are just a few of the words I actually love. However, it is the last line that got me into thinking at the moment, why this poem has been drawn to me again, on his very birthday, on a typical Monday, just when I am starting to feel that the world is conniving against my fall again. I am sure he is trying to give me a little push, to throw those strikes and have faith in the heavens that I too can actually say: “How about that!!!”

I actually named my daughter after the legendary pitcher, Satchel Paige. But the truth of the matter is, I named her after Satch, the man I will always be proud to call my father even if we have had our histories of craziness during his lifetime. He shall always be a legend to me.

Happy Birthday, Papa. 

Kisses to the skies,



Living for the Day

Life is like the end of a day.

Life is a red blot on the computer screen about to go off…

Life is a familiar cushion consuming your weight into its center so soft…

Life is the country rhythm of your favorite rock band taking you away…

Face life even if doesn’t seem to want to face you.

Embrace life knowing it will end eventually even if it has to torment you.

Live life for even a thousand years can only happen and end in a day.

For life, in truth, is but a day in your life.

This is the poetry prompt I gave to my students as periodic examination after a unit on poetry. Sometimes, I make it a point to do prompts my way, especially when it is in poetry that people are at the peak of realizations of what life truly means. Then I am surprised of myself each time…

As Miss Joy, my colleague, had written at the end of the examination paper: “Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry.” -Cassandra Clare

True. Indeed.