A house built of glass, fragile as my childhood. Cracks spread with every argument, shaping the person I’d become. This is where my story begins.
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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE-Burning Soul-Relaunch
​ FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Contact:Inner Flame PressEmail: [email protected]: https://authorrichardwhite.com/books/burning-soul Poetry Collection Burning Soul by S.L. Goyette Illuminates the Darkness of Life’s Deepest Struggles [Amsterdam, NY | April 2025] – Inner Flame Press proudly announces the relaunch of Burning Soul, a powerful debut poetry collection by …
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The Quiet After the Sirens
The Quiet After the Sirens is a powerful, lyrical memoir by veteran and EMS Lieutenant Richard White, exploring PTSD, trauma, and the unseen toll of service. From Iraq to 911 calls, White unveils the emotional cost of duty and the long, brutal journey of healing without shortcuts. This is a story of resilience, honesty, and finding peace after the noise fades.
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“Her Final Breath, My Last Choice”
On April 20th, five years ago, I had to make the most painful decision of my life—from a Zoom call. My sister was dying, and I was her healthcare proxy. While my mother and niece sat at her bedside, I gave the word to let her go. That moment changed me forever. I carry it into every EMS shift, every sleepless night, and every word I write. Today, I remember her—not as the woman we lost, but as my sister. The one I tried to save, even from a distance. The Quiet After the Sirens began with her silence.
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🖤 National Poetry Month — Day 19 🖤
Day 19 of #NationalPoetryMonth and I went full blues-ballad with The Ballad of Burnt Hill Road.
Read More The Quiet After the Call
There’s a silence most people never hear.
It’s not peace—it’s the sound after the sirens, when the adrenaline fades and the ghosts start talking.
After years in the military, fire service, and EMS, I came to know that silence too well. It isn’t quiet. It’s noise turned inward.
In that space, the heart races, the mind replays trauma, and the spirit aches under the weight of it all.
Crowded rooms became unbearable. Joy felt dangerous. And I couldn’t sit still without my hands shaking.
But healing began when I finally stopped running and listened to that silence. I learned to name the things I feared. I started writing again.
This memoir, The Quiet After the Sirens, is a testament to survival—not just in the field, but in the stillness that follows.
It’s about carrying the weight, honoring the ghosts, and learning how to breathe again.
If you’ve ever known that kind of silence, this story is for you too.
NaPoWriMo Day 13: The Gold Light in Quiet Rooms
By @RWhiteAuthor 🌿 NaPoWriMo Day 13: Inspired by Donald Justice’s “There is a gold light in certain old paintings” Today’s poem explores memory, art, and the way moments—like brushstrokes—blur and echo in the mind. Following Justice’s self-invented form, each stanza holds six lines of twelve syllables. …
Read MoreNaPoWriMo Day 9: The Bell Beyond the Fog
By @RWhiteAuthor For today’s NaPoWriMo prompt, I wanted to capture the haunting weight of sound in stillness. Inspired by the way fog distorts noise and reshapes perception, this poem leans into rhyme and the echo of a singular, specific sound: the distant clang of an old …
Read More📝 NaPoWriMo Day 8: Ghazal – A Love Song
Today’s prompt was to try writing a ghazal, a traditional poetic form often used for love poems. Each couplet must stand on its own while repeating a refrain.
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Blaze – Creative Writing Using Symbolism
You don’t choose to be a firefighter. You don’t choose to be a hero.
It’s a fire that burns inside you. Like an ember lodged in your chest that never dies, no matter how hard you try to smother it…
In Blaze, Chase Bowdry runs into burning buildings not because he wants to—but because he can’t imagine being anyone else. When a fire threatens to consume a warehouse and the girl trapped inside, Chase is forced to confront what drives him: legacy, survival, and something deeper.
Not all fires destroy. Some reveal.
🔥 “He used to think the helmet made him who he was. But now, he knew the truth… He saw himself as a flame—not the kind that consumes. The kind that carries light.”
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