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Stories From the Edge of Blindness

In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.

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National Poetry Month

Poetry is Where I’m From

It seems only fitting to end National Poetry Month by re-visiting an incredible poetic adventure and challenge that I had the good fortune to be a part of.  It was a journey of words, histories, friendship, illumination, trust and absolute beauty; an exercise that showed just how powerful poetry can be. It was inspired by Brooke, a woman who weaves magic into everything she writes, and who invited others to find the magic within themselves, through poetry.  What could be cooler than that?

The extraordinary poems were written by, Brooke, Tom, Wulf, Bojana, Tanya, Miriam, Brad, Elizabeth, Steve,  and Kim

The adventure began with this poem from
George Ella Lyon.

I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush,
the Dutch elm
whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own.

I’m from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I’m from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from perk up and pipe down.
I’m from He restoreth my soul
with a cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.

I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
to the auger
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.

Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments–
snapped before I budded–
leaf-fall from the family tree

 

Poetry Crush

My husband knows that I am madly in love with him and he also understands that every once in a while, I develop a poetry crush.  I can’t help it.

I discovered Jonathan Humble’s poetry last year, through some amazing poetry journals.  Every time I came across one of his poems, I held my breath and took in every word, as if each one was a gift.  His writing is achingly beautiful, steeped in melancholy and introspection, but as I read more of his work, I found out that it can also be  whimsical, satirical  and sweet.  His writing voice has immense range, and no matter what he is writing, he has an incredible power of language.  I know that, like me, once you start reading his poetry, you will develop a poetry crush of your own.

“Then it Rains”  and Invitation to Move On, are two of my favorite of Jonathan’s poems.  Read them, and then listen to him read them, and then read them again and again.  They are exquisite.

Then It Rains

You ask on my behalf to rise and leave,
to dress without the hindrance
of bootlace worms returning at our feet.

In vain we anticipate permission from spiders
who watch in shadows, spinning webs
that constrain all action.

Standing, squatting, sitting, we are opposed,
resisted. We are tangled marionettes,
linked with quantum string, each responding
with confused counter movement.

Blink my dears; so many eyes feel the tension
of our unseen bonds. These rainmaker thoughts,
connected across a web of reverberating nonsense
and countless coils, speak to me with jaded explanations;

there are no options again today. So you tell me
that we have to stay and wait.
And I have to listen. So I listen.
Then it rains.

~Jonathan Humble

The Uprising of a Guru

Bojana has a fire in her that cannot be quelled. She is brilliant and unapologetic.  She loves fiercely and is incredibly kind.  She is an immensely talented writer with a story that needs to be heard.  She dances and rages, lives with her eyes open and boldly walks her own path.  Bojana is not just a rebel, she is the rebellion.
Continue reading “The Uprising of a Guru”

Firecracker

It is hard to find words to describe Kim.  She is electrifying.  Kim is bold, strong, hysterically funny, brazen, smart as hell, the epitome of a tough cookie, and through constant pain and facing seemingly endless adversity, she wrote a book, she writes for more than one blog, and she makes everyone who meets her feel like they are special! She has an incredible history and is a fantastic story-teller.  She is caring, compassionate and beautiful. She is a total firecracker. You will love her blog!

And, I discovered that Kim has been hiding something from all of us…..Kim is a poet!

It began with the acceptance of a challenge to write a Sidlak poem, then a Love Poem in response to the Where I’m From adventure, and then Kim led me to another poem she wrote which was published in The Immortal Arts.  It is a heart wrenching poem, simple yet heavy with sadness.  It is the capturing of a moment in grief.  It is beautiful.

A Poem by K. Lynel

I walk down the familiar corridor
Their eyes meet mine then search the floor.
Even though they called for me
They cry.

I suck in my breath, my shoulders pull back
My father is seated in a white plastic chair.
My brother is quiet, he has gone
He is no longer here.

I kiss his brow, cold and salty
His eyes no longer search for me.
I whisper go home now, you are well
And you are free

I reach out to my father saying we must go
Kory is not here anymore, he is home.
I feel my breath betray me as I shutter,
And finally, I cry.

 

 

Sidlak Poetry – Take II

A while ago, I put out a post about Sidlak Poetry.  I learned of it from a blog I read and was incredibly excited to give it a try.  In usual form, I didn’t follow the rules, or understand them.  So, this is my second attempt at Sidlak Poetry. Hopefully, I have a better grasp this time!

Sidlak poetry (sid/lak) is a structured poetry consisting of 5 lines with 3-5-7-9syllables AND A COLOR. The last line must be a COLOR that describes the whole poem or the feelings of the writer.

Continue reading “Sidlak Poetry – Take II”

“I Shut My Eyes and All the World Drops Dead”

I think I knew I was a writer from about the age of 6, but it wasn’t until I was 13 that I fell in love with Poetry.  I will never forget it.  I had just finished reading “The Bell Jar” and there in the notes, at the end, was a poem by Sylvia Plath called , “Mad Girls Love Song”.  It changed  my life.  It shaped my love of language and taught me the power poetry can have over your heart and mind and all of the senses.  It was magic woven by words and it would determine the kind of writer I would become.

Sylvia Plath can sometimes get a bad wrap these days.  She is often associated with angsty teenagers and the horrible manner of her death, but before all that, there was the poetry.  Brilliant and haunting poetry written with the kind of talent I could only ever dream of.  Sylvia Plath wrote “Mad Girls Love Song” when she was just 19.
Continue reading ““I Shut My Eyes and All the World Drops Dead””

Happy National Poetry Month

I am undeniably excited that it is April and National Poetry Month.  I am looking forward to an array of poetry challenges this month, including the two I always post about; Visual Verse and Rattle Ekphrastic.  I am hoping that anyone who reads or visits my blog will feel free to share their own poetry or poetry they love.  I am going to start it off with a poet whose work I love and who I have come to admire and care for deeply.  His current series of poems are some of the most beautiful Haiku I have read.  Here are links to the first three, Arrival (Part I of New Life),  Meeting (Part II of New Life) and Beckoning (Part III of New Life).   These poems possess a delicate beauty and a divine richness.  A perfect way to start the month.

Happy National Poetry Month!!!

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