Written by an Anonymous Author | Contributed by Madueke Paschal
Being born in any of the underdeveloped countries of the world is so much of a burden to carry, but much worse is if you were unfortunate enough to be born with a congenital disease. As far back as I can remember, I was always being carried from health center to health center looking for a blood type that matched mine. What charge was I guilty of? I was diagnosed with sickle cell disease. Even more unfortunate, my blood type is A-negative; one of the rarer blood types there are (as I have been told).
Continue reading “To You, the Blood Donor: From a Sickle Cell Survivor”
By Cynthia Cady Stanton | Featured Contributor
In this moment,
I can see You.
I can feel You.
You are in my deepening breath.
You are the pause between my thoughts.
You are the beat in my heart.
You are the warmth in my touch.
You are the whispers that call my name.
Continue reading “There You Are [a poem]”
By Cara Amy Goldthorpe | Featured Contributor
I take, and another
Towards this light
Pulling me on
Through a tunnel of shadow
Pain and burden
I feel before I rise
Continue reading “One Step [a poem]”
Happy Valentine’s Day! Today, I again open up PhoebeMD.com for another Meet & Greet event. Remember, this is your moment to shine! This was originally started on PhoebeMD.com as a dedicated time for you all to come together to share blogs and favorite posts, make new connections, and expand your blog audiences.
The guidelines, like always, are simple…
Continue reading “Promote Your Blog [closed]”
In the dark,
Brighter than many ever see.
Through the soul’s own mastery.
And now the world receives
From her dower:
The message of the strength
Of inner power.
Wishing you all a warm and safe weekend filled with love.
By Skye Emerson | Featured Contributor
Once there was optimism to see silver laced clouds
til the world shook on its axis and decidedly bowed.
Psychosis (they say) is to go quite insane,
lose touch with reality, but they never mention the pain.
When all that is true breaks at the seams,
life becomes survival, desperation and screams.
Mistrusting your judgement since all you see is false,
no more gut feelings to rely on, you’ve got to just halt.
Buried beneath the weight of taunting monsters and more,
the theories roll, there is no staunching it despite how you implore.
Continue reading “‘Lovely Psychosis’ – Directions for Survival [a poem]”