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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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Poem

Breath

I can’t believe it is almost July. I think the world is developing a new relationship with time and space, as the definition of daily existence continues to be altered by the power of nature. I personally find myself in a state of confusion most days. Things seem to be piling up at an alarming rate and I haven’t been writing as much as I would like, so I decided to add another poem to my Recorded Poetry Series. The poem is called, “Breath”, and was originally published in The Writing Disorder.

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I hope this finds whoever is reading this safe and well and easing into the changes life is handing all of us now.

Stress Fracture

I am thrilled see my poem,” Stress Fracture“, published today in Literati Magazine. My huge thanks to publisher Renée Sigel!!!

A Little Recorded Poetry

I have a new recorded poem up on YouTube, if you feel like having a listen. This one is the first of 5 originally published in The Writing Disorder. I hope you like it.


Missing the Dead

I am absolutely thrilled that my first acceptance from a journal this year came from Nine Muses Poetry, a journal that has published so many of the contemporary writers I admire. My huge thanks to editor Annest Gwilym for including my poem as part of this month’s Special Challenge. If you would like to read it, you can so so here.

The Writer

“The Writer” is the final poem from my recorded poetry series, originally published in Chantarelle’s Notebook. It was inspired by a beautiful piece written by River Dixon from “The Stories In-Between


Stiff Trigger

My latest recorded poem is up on YouTube. It is the third of six poems originally published in Chanterelle’s Notebook. Kendal Bell, editor of Chantarell’s Notebook, chose to nominate this poem for a Best of the Net award, which was a huge honor.

All of the credit for visuals goes to my amazing husband Joe Richardson!


From The Hungry Chimera

It has been interesting, and a bit strange, resurrecting my older poems for the Recorded Poetry Series I started on YouTube.  Although I hope I have grown as a writer and will continue to grow and evolve, the earlier poems, I think, create a foundation that I am grateful for.  It can be enlightening to revisit beginnings, hold them gently and thoughtfully in your hand, rather than tear them apart.

This poem, published in the second issue of The Hungry Chimera, is called, “Paper Bag Dance”.  You can read it and the entire second issue here.  This is an exquisitely beautiful journal that I am proud to have been a part of.

Paper Bag Dance

City life enshrouds the girl in a paper bag.
She tucks herself in tightly
and shrinks from the onslaught of strangers
who walk briskly and have no eyes.
They rush through the grind,
living without the hesitation
that is born of curiosity.
She stumbles past shops,
staring into frosted panes and
disappears into her own reflection.
Waltzing behind the glass with a
stranger whose scent she longs to inhale,
she is liquid and light on her feet.
She reaches out to caress the strangers gown,
but her fingers press hard against
the brittle paper bag.

 

 

Guest Writer – Carrie Ann Golden

The shared experience of RP is what initially drew me to read Carrie Ann’s blog, ” A Writer and Her Sentimental Muse”, but it was something much deeper than blindness that connected us.  Poetry!  Although we both have vision loss, our passion for poetry and writing  is something that drives us both and connects us as artists.  Carrie Ann is a wonderful writer and a beautiful soul, and I am thrilled that she agreed to be the very first guest writer for my blog.  I know you will love her as much as I do. Continue reading “Guest Writer – Carrie Ann Golden”

The Opiate Magazine

I am thrilled to have a poem in The Opiate Magazine today.  3 more of my poems have been accepted for their next print issue and I am over the moon.  My huge thanks to editor, Genna Rivieccio!

If you would like to read my poem, you can do so here.

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