Busy Mind #1

Today I will begin a series of posts that will reflect what I’ve been going through lately. Seasons come and go in our lives and we must embrace them all or be miserable. I always write, however I am not always working on my next best short story or poem. During those times I find myself also reading and studying; which make up a part of a writer’s life. When I am not doing the aforementioned, I am LIVING LIFE! I hope you enjoy this new series and write me because feed back from my wonderful readers makes my day!


Lluvia de esperanza rain on this heart
Un dia todo adolorido
Today it’s whole again

One drop…one tear
Raindrops from a fearful heart

EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2013


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 4

Today’s poem comes from my 12 year old daughter. She has taken an interest in song writing . This is a song she performed at a local coffee house recently. She also submitted this piece at a local teen poetry contest and she came in as a finalist.

You’re Not Alone

She paints a pretty picture
But this story has a twist-
Her paintbrush is razor,
And the canvas is her wrist.

Her mother died a year ago,
Depressed and alone.
She wants to die
Bitter and cold.

She dances in the moonlight,
She’s the black swan of the night-
She leaps, prances, twirls, and dances
But she cannot stop the fight.

Your skin isn’t paper, so don’t cut it,
Life isn’t a movie so don’t end it.
Your face is so pretty, why do you hide it?
You have a beautiful soul, but you want to kill it.

Just know you’re not alone.
Stay strong
You are living one big lie
But in the end you will be alright.

by Raquel Brincat copyright 2012


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

A long time ago I heard a preacher say that if we don’t share our talents and gifts with the world, we become thieves. We all have great talents. How many people though, never step out and bless the world with their gifts. Our talents are not just for us. They are to help make this life better and more amazing!

Last night I began a new thing; I hosted a poetry jam at my home away from home, The Coffee House. I was a bit anxious about it. I worried because I was afraid no one would come. Boy did I waste my time worrying!! We had 25+ people show  up to our first meeting last night!! Their  were young poets and poets from all walks of life. This very talented woman shared a piece about her trip to New Orleans and it was so vivid, her words took be back to when I went to that beautiful place in my teens. This other poet a young man, recited a poem he wrote from memory. I  admire poets who can  get up to the mic and do that without any prior preparation.

There were several writers from my writing group, WRITING ROYALTY in attendance and they shared as well.

And lastly, there was a young woman by the name of Leslie Stein who shared her 365 Soul Notes with us and she inspired me!! I plan to have her as a featured artist soon! This is her picture 🙂 https://www.facebook.com/SoulNotesWithLeslieStein

I broke past the fear and I did something I always wanted to do! The Henderson Poets will meet every Tuesday night at 7pm in The Coffee House located on 117. S. Water Street, Henderson, NV. If you are local, come by and join us!  Next Tuesday, Derik Jordan, a local guitar player will be our featured artist. This young man played Walk The Line and he sounded just like Johnny Cash!! Please like our The Henderson Poets Group Page on Facebook!https://www.facebook.com/TheHendersonPoets

-Eva Santiago copyright 2012



365 Snap Shots of Life: Day 211

How is your Sunday so far? Mine is consisting of a little house work, a bit of Olympic games viewing and now giving you yet another preview of my new book coming out SOON!. When I was writing Salsa! The Taste of Life, I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough material. Now, after editing it turns out I had a surplus! I’m so glad too because I get to use this edited material to promote Salsa! before it goes live.

My editor suggested that I save this material I had to cut out for another book. I thought of it and then I realized I don’t have to. Do you know why? because this writer knows that her creative fountain will never run dry. You see, the creative process is a marvelous thing. I write when I have something to say. There are times when I only journal my personal thoughts. So I keep writing. Then after seeping in my own creative juices after a little while, VOILA! The flow starts back up. That’s why I can share my edited work with the world on my blog right now; because I know there’s more coming!

Happy Sunday!

Children No More

The children are at school,

always being taught

to ignore the Golden Rule,

What they learn is for naught.



The children in school all day,

told what to do every hour,

even told how they can play;

their disposition is quite sour.



The children in school all week;

they never learn about God.

Taught to be selfish instead of meek,

at home the parents spare the rod.



The children in school all year;

taught to be good for nothing,

filling them up with knowledge, facts, and fear,

out after twelve years, knowing nothing at all.

From the crib to the daycare,

from the daycare to the classroom,

all they learn is to defy God and swear.

The children are in school…

Today, to be a child is quite rare.

-Eva Santiago Copyright 2012

DISCLAIMER! This poem is in no way meant to offend any teacher who works in the public school system. I have many friends who teach in public schools and I respect them all for the tremendous job they do in a failed system.

To Join or Not to Join…That is the Question

I attended a local writers group last night. I am venturing out more because my publisher suggested that I connect with other writers in my area  to net work because that will be helpful when I launch my new book, in a few months. The meeting I attended last night was quite informative and yet I came away feeling a bit disconcerted.

During the meeting other writers brought in portions of their work and each writer had a set time to read their work out loud and then the other writers had the chance to critique the work. That was all fine until I noticed how nit-picky some writers were. At times when I felt that what the writer had presented was superb, other writers had a huge difference of opinion from mine. I actually came away feeling a bit bored by all of it. Suddenly I felt as if I was back in school and there went my joy of the writing craft.

John Steinbeck once said that going to school will ruin a great writer. I agree with the man who tried going to college only to never earn a degree. Amazingly after he won the Nobel Prize in Literature, he feared that such an honor usually meant the end of a writer’s career.

Unless a reviewer has the courage to give you unqualified praise, I say ignore the bastard.
John Steinbeck

The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true.
John Steinbeck

Read more:http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_steinbeck_2.html#ixzz1llMZQdGO

Read more:http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/j/john_steinbeck_2.html#ixzz1llMMX3uW

I also recently read an article that stated that Leo Tolstoy, who wrote WAR and PEACE rewrote that same book 8 different times. I am flabbergasted. Was that really necessary or did he battle with OCD?

Could it be that in all the nit-picking that other writers do, they end up destroying some of their best work? I would like to hear some of your thoughts on this, so please feel free to comment.

I have not decided whether I’m going to join the local writers group. I did enjoy meeting up with a couple of  fellow writers who, based on our conversation, seemed more in touch with reality.  Maybe I’ll just keep my options open and I’ll just drop in on a meeting now and then. I don’t want to join a group where I sense their passion for the craft has grown a bit stale, because I wouldn’t ever want that to rub off on me. It’s already tough being a writer, let alone having to stave off the negative energy of writers more seasoned than me. Writing has always been such a life source for me that I don’t want anyone to dampen it .

-EVA SANTIAGO copyright 2012


Encourage, delight,outrage, inspire –

they capture life

as is, nothing held back,

with all the calm, in all of the strife.

Poets photograph the future

and bring it back.

Poets remind us of the past –

helping us put it behind

where it belongs at last.

Poets sing a song of rain,

and tell us we’re gonna make it,

we’ll rise above the pain.

The poetic voices

from the past and those in the present;

listen to them!

They feel the pulse,

They ARE the heart beat –

the nation waits with anticipation,

for the poets to speak –

encourage, delight, outrage , inspire.

Poets take us to the next great expectation.