Jimmy Santiago Baca

(2 January 1952 / Santa Fe, New Mexico)

Comments about Jimmy Santiago Baca

  • Rookie - 0 Points Stephy Bird(: (11/18/2013 6:28:00 PM)

    I am a student in year 9 and I just wanted to say how amazing Mr Baca's poetry really is. I had to recite Whu understands me but me for a class assignment and though it was difficult to remember every line, I really felt the meaning beneath the words on a page as I'm sure that the audience did too. All the feelings that reflect from these poems are exactly what I have felt or what I'm feeling. These peices are utterly amazing and beautiful. I really hope that everyone that reads them fully appreciates the time, effort, meaning, and feeling poured into each and every one of these outstanding poetry peices.
    xoxo Steph(:

    10 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
  • Rookie Rachell Pitrucha (11/1/2011 5:53:00 PM)

    I am a poetry student at NMHU and saw Jimmy Santiago Baca reach out to his community with all his heart. Although I am white and a transplant to the state of NM, I saw that the local young men really were toughed as was a young black guy from California. NM and all other states should have more inspirational artists like Jimmy coming to tell stories and read aloud to a community to which they relate to and we wouldn't have so much crime, misunderstanding and the damnation of the few good men who still exist amongst an all- too- often cruel world. Even as I could not relate to the culture since I didn't grow up here, Baca was an inspiration and example that people have the control to become who they want to be even when their past circumstances have all but withered their desire to live! Thanks Jimmy Santiago Baca for being an inspiration for a better life in NM and for the young people who don't have the comforts of life handed to them on a silver platter! !

  • Rookie Xandrix Baluyot (2/20/2007 10:55:00 PM)

    Willy, my old friend. I'm afraid you're mistaken, yet again... but I forgive you. And a poem is something like what Mr. Baca, a poet, made. The following is one of my favorite quotes from his poem 'Green Chile':

    'I prefer...my eggs and potatoes for breakfast... in the wind... licking the breeze.'

    Oh, and:

    'But grandmother loves... sweating over the stove...for a dollar a bag...'

    Those quotes really capture the true meaning of the poem, in my opinion.

    *kfffffffff kfffffffff kfffffffff*

  • Rookie Willy Penate (2/20/2007 10:53:00 PM)

    Two more questions:

    1) What's a poem?

    b) I'm so cool.

  • Rookie Willy Penate (2/20/2007 10:50:00 PM)

    *psssssst* (whispers)
    Hey. Who is Jimmy Santiago Baca and what does he do?

  • Rookie Willy Penate (2/20/2007 10:48:00 PM)

    I think xman is completely wrong in saying that. Not based on the content that he posted, no. This is based on xman himself. You are always wrong in what you say and all your base are belong to me. Make your time. kfffffffffffffffff

  • Rookie Xandrix Baluyot (2/20/2007 10:43:00 PM)

    I concur. However, 'Welcome to Hiroshima' by Mary Jo Salter is way cooler. *kfffffff* I'm not not Kyle.

  • Rookie Willy Penate (2/20/2007 10:33:00 PM)

    This poem is too unfreakingbelievably awesome to have some stupid english essay written about it.
    My name is Kyle.


Best Poem of Jimmy Santiago Baca

I Am Offering This Poem

I am offering this poem to you,
since I have nothing else to give.
Keep it like a warm coat,
when winter comes to cover you,
or like a pair of thick socks
the cold cannot bite through,

I love you,

I have nothing else to give you,
so it is a pot full of yellow corn
to warm your belly in the winter,
it is a scarf for your head, to wear
over your hair, to tie up around your face,

I love you,

Keep it, treasure it as you would
if you were lost, needing direction,
in the wilderness life becomes when mature;
and in the corner of your ...

Read the full of I Am Offering This Poem

When Life

Is cut close, blades and bones,
And the stench of sewers is everywhere,
Blood-sloshed floors,
And guards count the dead
With the blink of an eyelid, then hurry home
To supper and love, what saves us
From going mad is to carry a vacant stare
And a quiet half-dead dream.

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