Archive | September, 2016


26 Sep

by Valerie Moreno

I stand alone

shivering in chilly,

condescending winds of



You are “too busy”

to give me a chance,

look at me as a

person instead of a

symbol of blindness.


You won’t meet me

half-way, I feel it

like a hard slap against my cheek.

Rejection stings for a time,

reminding me to appreciate my self…


Again, I gather my strength,

assess my ability,

believing someone wiser will

 accept who I am.


Valerie Moreno is 59 and a published writer. She writes poetry, memoir, fiction and articles. Her eye disease is ROP (Retinopathy of Prematurity. Some favorite hobbies include reading, raised line drawing, music and singing.

What a Feeling!

16 Sep

by Andrea Kelton

The easel

Holds a painting

Featuring a free-form tree

Under an explosive yellow sun.


The artist

Brush in hand

Stands back

Admiring her masterpiece.


Satisfaction bubbles


Glee gushes and rushes

Through her four-year-old body.


Andrea glows with wonder

At this treasure she’s created.


Emotions explode

As she discovers


Doing art

Creates bliss.


Andrea Kelton was diagnosed with uveitis at 24. Her diverse artistic life included photography and ceramics.  She taught pottery in her own Chicago storefront studio for 15 years.  Andrea attends a memoir writing class taught by author, Beth Finke.

The Place Where She Flew Away

9 Sep

by Sharon Tewksbury

When I left that dusty little town,

Where the tumbleweeds rolled, and the cactus grew,

I thought I’d set the world on fire,

With all the things I thought I knew!


I still remember that childhood sidewalk,

Leading to the shack I called home,

The lawn chairs sitting by the front door,

Where I sat when daddy was gone.


How many days did I sit in them and dream?

How many nights did I plan on the day?

when my restlessness would fuel my wings

And I would go far away.


I remember the parched West Texas ground,

I felt like I would never walk on it again,

I’d never taste the desert rain

Or hear the early morning wind.


But now, how different it is for me,

47 years have quickly passed,

Family are passing friends are leaving,

Did I really think temporary would last?


Time is going by, change writes destiny,

And The little shack is not there now,

But the weathered old fence stands defying time’s touch,

Though I don’t really know just how.


And that young girl still lives inside of me,

Her presence I feel each day,

Like an eagle she flew but she came back down,

To the place where she flew away.


Sharon Tewksbury, was born blind in the early fifties. She had cataracts before birth, was born prematurely and was in an incubator for eight weeks. Oxygen and bright lights made what vision she had leave at an expedient rate. This poem was written to share that although some sighted folks might think the blind have missed out, nothing could be further from the truth.