And My Pen Name Was Once CASSANDRA


Cassandra the mermaid-gypsy, lifted her colorful long skirt, to cross over the overflowed river, showing off her newlong tanned legs that were kissed by the fishes that jumped from the river and all over her legs and feet, as she step quickly over the pointy uneven rocks and wet slippery logs.

She laughed and laughed as the friendly fishes, and the human like frogs called her name and sang for her,

“Cassandra!, Cassandra!, Cassandra! Dance a waltz bella Cassandra…”

And the wind lited her skirt some more and played with her hairlocks laughing mischievously  as it whispered to her funny and fresh nonsense to her ears. And she submissively danced for the suns, the winds, and the frogs too.

Ah, how much he loved the Sun’s son, the Wind of the East. He adored his muse, the unique mermaid-gypsy  Cassandra. He loved to rest his white as cloud hair over her bared breasts, messing with the silky and soft fabric of her corset and skirt, soft as the wind itself and sheer as a tulle.

And she let him be. He was her lover and her owner. Nothing he did was wrong. She laughed, and laughed, kicking her feet at the small rock pebbles and the fishes that were again kissing her legs and letting her pet them as she sang joining the wind’s melodic voice sing a romancero, a poem turn to song.

” Oh’ I’m the worst sinner of them all; But Foolish men who accuse
women, without reason,
without seeing that you are the occasion
from the same

as you blame her;

If forward unsurpassed
you solicit their wrong and disdain,
why you want them to do good If YOU

incite them to do evil?

Her resistance you fight,
and then gravely,
you say,                                                                                                                             It was her lightness what did the diligence.

Apparently wants the boldness
of your crazy believes,
believe the shorty ‘dam that made a bogeyman of you.

And then You fear her…

—from Sor Juana Inez de La Cruz

And the fish in the water sing,

Hombres necios que acusáis
a la mujer sin razón,
sin ver que sois voz la ocasión
de lo mismo que culpáis:

si con ansia sin igual
solicitáis su desdén,
¿por qué queréis que obren bien
si la incitáis al mal?

Cambatís su resistencia
y luego, con gravedad,
decís que fue liviandad
lo que hizo la diligencia.

Parecer quiere el denuedo
de vuestro parecer loco creer
al niño que pone el coco
y luego le tiene miedo.

There singing like the rocks in the overflowed river goes Cassandra,

until she trips and fall, to never more be found. Only but her colorful yellow, red and white skirt return to the the other side of the river. The sad fish, the humanlike frogs, the fishermen and housewives in town, even the regular people in town day and night desperate called her name through the mouth of the dam and the river.

“Cassandra! Cassandra!. Cassandra. Ven bailemos!”

Donde has hido; donde estara ella?

No one new her real name, she was just the new gypsy girl in town, only the wind knew she’d gone far East, and then far South, looking for some Sunshine and new waters to swim in.

He asked the frogs and the southern gators and dolphins to watch after her. Even the gecos were sent to look after her and write to her letters, poems, and songs, that the wind couldn’t. And she always wrote him back, even when there were times that didn’t knew it was her. And her pen name was once Cassandra, even though he now calls her Lola.

And one day as she sang her song, a young fisherman came to her and asked her her name. But when he asked her her name she laughed swimming away but this time with the body of a mermaid….

He believed he heard her say,


blog, blog….


Hello World! by E.R.L.


This is my story;

I am an Amateur Photographer, and Artist and an Author. Yes. I’m a Published Author. My books are in search by my name. But besides that I’m mainly a Blogger, since I can remember, and a jack of all traits. I do Sales Consulting, Collections, Marketing, even Management. But my life is in the letters and the photography. That and journalism, any journalism attracts me a lot. I used to dream of being a Traveling Writer so I could circle the world and write about it, plus write my little poems and stories from exotic and amazing incredible places. But as it is it all stayed in dreams. I have circled the world through my friends and families, maybe I should interview them and beg them to live precariously through their stories and images. Maybe I get my story then. I just love writing, it fills up certain void in my life. It brings me joy.

As a young girl I knew I was an Artist and a Writer. Even by elementary school, I would read tons of books and then write my own ending or my sequels of them. I would not show anyone feeling totally embarrassed and thinking it was something wrong, like plagiarizing or just reading something that wasn’t age appropriate. In school my poems and creative drawings adorned the teacher’s classrooms, and the Principal Hernandez’s (RIP), office. Since I was a very young gifted & hyper child who loved to write and paint, he would encourage me to paint, write, or read to stay out of trouble. He made me promised him to one day become a teacher or a lawyer. I said how bout a writer? He said, “Writer is good, but they don’t make money. You should be a lawyer if you don’t want to be a teacher. But study hard cause to be a lawyer you need to read a lot, and big book.”  That killed it for me. I never liked reading big books. So secretively I settled for Writer. He never knew. The last time he saw me, I had enrolled college as Elementary Teacher, but then changed my major to Computer and Business. He would probably like that too. See, I never met my father, so indirectly he was the father figure I needed.

I can’t say that I turned out to be a great Writer. But I’m happy with what I write and having the world wide web, the social networks, sites like wordpress, where I can share my passion for writing with others that shares the same joy, passion, and love for what they do. I really cherish all of my stories, my poems, drawings, and writings with all my heart.

My stories, poetry, blogs, and my arts and photographs, they mean a great deal to me. So I decided to share my creative work with the world, with the only hope that with you opinions and comments I get to learn more of this tasks and improve myself and my writings everyday. I only wish that I don’t get bullied, mocked, criticized, or called Autistic for my love for the letters and the Arts in general and to be able to morph into a great butterfly coming out of my cocoon with better brighter colors and lots of great artistic works to share with all.

So if you enjoy my blog and stories, Please Re-share it, Like it, Comment on it and Share it with your friends and loved ones, and the friends of your friends, etc. Also #followme here and in #twitter as @EvelynBlogger or in #instagram as @EvesCollection 🙂

Thanks for reading me,


Loves, and Truly Yours,



A self published Author of “Poems From A Gypsy Soul”, a poetry book.
The 2nd Ed. is “Poems from a Gypsy Soul; Healing Time. You can find them in, and Kindle.

….Aside from poetry I am writing few short stories and novels, such as Clair is Not At Home, and Believing in Love at First Sight. There are few recent short stories that I am also working on such The Women By the Sea and The Not So Quiet Woman.

Overall, I’m just a Blogger/Sales Rep. who dreams to be a Best Seller Writer one day…So if you may get the word out about my poems and my short stories I would greatly appreciate it and pls. let me know so I can return the favor.

I know you will enjoy most of my blogs here as I enjoyed writing them and sharing them with you, my new friends. I humbly appreciate you following my work. Also leave your Twitter, Tumbler, Facebook, or Google info in your comments and link to your writings for me to follow you back. I will. 🙂

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