Poetry ! !! POST YOUR POETRY HERE

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Hi there , this is a page to post your poetry so feel free it would be nice to see all your outlooks on life in poetry form , to begin with I will post mine I'm dedicating this poem for people within the autism spectrum

LIGHT VS. DARK
By Wesley Theron
(I have higher functioning autism /AS )

Never so much in our lives did we breathe
We exhale life towards the stars...
For so much fire in our eyes does seethe
Fear resides in so many hearts

Light, dark
Light?
Dark?
Couldn't we just see ....
Darkness being a aspect of light ?
For it is in our dreams that we percieve
When we get an urge to take flight

Dreary cold winter skies
As we slay the path with our limbs
Notice that the sun always shines
We depended on light ever since .....

Hope you guys enjoyed it ! looking forward to reading yours

Hi, I quite liked your poem, here are two of mine. The first one I wrote when I was about 15 for a reading competition. The second is one I wrote quite recently:

Will You Be My Child?

I step into a care home
I look at all the faces
Small boys, big boys, small girls, big girls
All of them wanting a home
I see a small boy in the corner

He is afraid
He has been beaten
He has suffered

I go to him
I draw him to me
I cuddle him

"Will you be my child?" my question.
"Will you beat me?" his fear.

"I shall paint you the waves of the sea
I shall sew you the strands of love
I shall cook you the essence of understanding
I shall read you the sweetest violin notes
I shall raise you and love you as my own.

"I shall row you to the shore of Heaven
I shall store all your good luck in a bank.
I shall calculate and multiply your good fortunes
I shall wish you your first blissful baby
I shall raise you and love you as my own

"I shall write you the sources of peace
I shall be for courage to be with you always
I shall brew you the potion of hope
I shall unlock for you the chest of love
I shall raise you and love you as my own."
My promise.

He is close to me.
He is happy.
He understands.
He wants to be my child.

We go home.
Together.

Ghost in My Life

I have a ghost in my life. It keeps me from
Being totally alive. After every explosion of a bomb,
A funeral of a child too soon stone dead,
A secne of torture, when mothers cry as eyes in their Child's head
Go blank as he or she dies. When rain and snow and hail will not
Fall down to earth forevermore, when the sun
Has winked out, when our world crumbles, when we humans, all, each one
Has lost the ability to love and be loved, then
My ghost will leave me.

This is a poem that describes the way I saw the world when I was young as a autistic higher functioning child

Dripping with awe...
Trickling over my cheeks....
Angels fluttering wings

A new universe I saw ,with eyes wide open I start to dream
The dream was contingent... A magical place where I could just be
Where new worlds explode in a blackness of a sea ...

Just keep on drifting surely you will find ,the inner light within you brilliantly it shines

A short poem-esque thing I wrote about AS/HFA issues (like hypersensitivity issues or socializing):

"Purification of the resting place of our tired feet
the sound resonates
a loud drum
a bomb
a tornado of mere dust
to pollute
seemingly what is nothing

Voices of familiarity
suddenly warped
now something foreign
so much for us
so little to them

The heat of cell-composed hills
surrounding you
the movement of doorways which the voice escapes lack consistency
an uncharted land
paved with invisible pathways
detected by others
stolen from you
and you flee"

Crappy, huh?

Hi Tomboywriter my name is Wesley , me having written so much poetry in my life would defnitely say you got the write stuff Tell me do you have hyper sensitivity ? I'm starting a new movement its called HUG.NATION and I want you too be my first recruit

Fires burning bright in the night
I’ve heard it said they’ve seen the light
But who’s to say which is right
As they rage against the night
Against the dying of the light
Fighting in the name of other’s rights
I’ve seen the coming night
I’ve seen it’s shadow in the flickering light
It’s on the left and it’s on our right
I’ve seen its spectre in the night
It’s a ghastly glowing gloomy light
A demon praying a priestly rite
Walking among dimming stars one night
Bathed in the pale, empty moonlight
I saw death only then I learned right
For in our darkest hour, human night
Can one see a glimmer of the light
And only then can one know right
For only in our darkest nights
When one knows the black can one know light
And ponder and appreciate all that is right
Fires burn brightest in the night
Fire may kill but it gives us light
And light can show the path of right

The Puzzle Piece

a lonely piece of wood
looking for a place to call home
easily misunderstood
with a double edged syndrome

flesh and body the same
no way to tell on the skin
still I walk in shame
with thoughts racing within

a brain not like most
this piece of a puzzle does not belong
no part of the sandy coast
with colours all wrong

thrown out to the open sea
drowning in the blueness
but still every eye can see
it is a wrong colour dress

this motif is not mine
maybe the little pond one
tiny with a familiar line
I'll join the frogs and have some fun

my legs are not jumping as high as theirs
the water lilies are all taken
of the same family and still their eyes stares
my identity they all cheapen

My attempt to capture my own flavor of Aspergers...

A Sense of the World

Both textile and tactile, twisting
the thick pile toe after toe through
a braided lawn; each touch so
different yet appearing the same.

Up close with things is my home; the
colors I remember instead of names,
the shifting qualities of light, the natural
world's twills the first family I've known.

A dozen times my favorite movie plays;
changed and comforted each time the
credits roll, the subtle freshness hidden by
the seeming monotony is gradually revealed.

Rocking without a chair; if I depress this
button the right number of times and the
stars align I may finally be able to rest.
I daven without faith, like the surf and its tides.

Powered by the need to finish what I've sparked,
I can focus forever until the light burns out--
after the fever, the relentless drive to complete.
Skinless with no body for hunger or memory for sleep.

The weight of amassed collections, intangibles
collecting, connecting, absorbing, becoming.
Mandalas of patterned information; associations
naked to me; annotated for my pleasure and use.

Yet when things are broken I break. Lateness,
lost data, crossed wires. Vagueness. My clothes
itch with irritation as I struggle to stay
buttoned down and nothing fits.

The world is wool and I am boiling boiling.

I looked for a thread like this and found it!

I do not consider myself a good poet, but I need to express myself through writing sometimes.
Just a rough piece; a 10 minute release, this is. I want to share it now though, otherwise the compulsion to express may be lost and the moment will pass.

Into my 8th

This release, I crave
From all that is real
Sublime
Darkest thoughts haunt me
Through this passage in time
Sanguine
I want them, I am them
My boundaries dissolve
I squeal, inside
I am the forbidden
I tremble, losing control
Of what I will never share

Another poem, this one is from the past.


Loving November

I knew death as not such beauty
Until autumn came, that is
And through the crisp, clear air
Golden leaves fell to their demise

I'd felt air with no such serenity
As I looked upwards to the trees
And sweet mr. robin took flight
Twinkling, his silver frost beneath

Art was never such a passion
As when we made our last design
And the room filled with laughter,
Toned with warmth and red wine

But covertly, one fiend
A wounded being been scorned
As we were all soon to find
40 past drover point

The hours we were to follow,
A living beauty cut free
Yet here serenity deceased
Our worlds changed permanently

Our friend lost forever
My lover departed
The air's starkness, our shock
We immortally acquainted

The cemetery, that season
So peacefully still
yet burning, in this heart
as it forever will

I am enjoying reading the other poetry here.

It's bringing out emotion.

I had to write about winter



Winters night.


Snow of crystal, delicately downward falls.
Across the fields, the solitary snowy owl calls.
Princely dressed in feathers, eyes like lanterns glow.
Moonlight dances,showing traces of life in the snows.
Foot prints tell of wanderings, across the fields so bare.
Though in the distance, the lights of a cabins life shine there.
Trees standing in slumber, awaiting the new springs sun.
Though they know the seasons, sense time had begun.
Smoke softly rising, from a wood stoves fire, warming a heart.
Tales old, yet new, drawn to eyes shining in the dark.
Faces sit in silence, eager for some magic stories,
logs in the flames, crackle in the praise, of the fires glory.

Timmy

Hello, Timmy!
It's nice to meet you
How do you show in my life?
You are a loving mother
A wonderful wife
An hard-working teacher
and a loving person
Whenever we mess up
We confess to you
You taught us how to be mature
Through your eyes
There is no such thing as a perfect family
We made mistakes
But have taught us how to
make things right alongside God
I love you, Timmy
We all love you.

Dilation
by Travis Hess

the great shining forth of Reality
is what you are
deep aeons talk through your speech
and
the arc of the universe walks in your steps

you are not separate from the Beauty for which you search
this primal vibration of Light and its music is your Root
you are not separate from the Goodness for which you ache
the immaculate feeling of Love and that Dance is your Heart
you are not separate from the Clarity for which you look
Natural Mind and its evolution is your Intellect

from the womb of the Holy we are birthed
through the forge of the Beloved Community we are tempered
and
as Living Inquiry we become naked,
ever becoming
the flow and fire of awakeness,
unblemished wholeness and
radical freedom,
ever deepening
this unique precious possibility
yet
in whatever form
ache of awakening
the joy of friendship
a sorrowful goodbye
always ineffable and unconditioned,
the Primordial,
that is what you are

Fluorescent Hell (about the struggle to survive in today's Neo-Slavery)

Flourescent Hell

There’s got to be something better,
another place, another time,
any place but here.
Is this all there is?
Is this what’s to look forward to?
Is this really life?
Is this really life?

Trapped inside this existence of struggle
juggling inconsequential obligations
of everyday life aggravation
Just trying to survive,
never to thrive in this maddening monotony
of maintaining the mundane
a persistent pain.

Embroiled in this co-parasitic equation
as I try in vein
to sustain myself on the meager morsels, spoiled.
Eating dirt and excrement for nutrients
diligently
Force fed by starvation
grudgingly I swallow in necessity.

My life’s disappearing,
years of laborious efforts,
bear no fruit suitable
for my dried and cracked pallette yearning for relief.
In a grieving state I’ll die,
Bereaving time gone by and wasted,
in the scramble for a taste
of the reaping of what we sow,
something I’ll never know.

Keep plugging away at the dream you’ll never get to.

I am an aspiring novelist and poet, so I have a lot of poems, but this is the one that I believe would be most appreciated by fellow users of this website:

Autistic Meltdown
By Gina Andrews

Sirens sounding
Heart is pounding—
extremely hard
Looky here; a crying bard!
They say, “You’re bad!”
But I’m just sad
There’s no need to yell
Or tell me that I’ll go to hell
And to behave this way is a sin
Fire’s already licking my skin
My face and arms are sunset red
You tell me it’s all in my head
As heated darkness consumes my soul
My body is torn; I no longer feel whole
Anger, depression, hate
It seems the gods have written me quite a horrid fate
You say that I’m being naughty
And that I’m acting so haughty
But you sure do not see
The maelstrom inside of me