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Poetic…PERFECTION!!

That’s exactly what I saw this last week on Artists and Autism! The fantastic facebook group I introduced you to in my 1st “Highlite” Blog, “Birds of a Feather” recently. The Positive vibes just jump off of that page into your lap. The perfect artistic metaphorical “lap-dog”!! Something …that is ALWAYS THERE when you need a smile! No Matter the days circumstances. Just log on…and de~stress! If you haven’t found it yet…..

CLICK HERE!…http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000775923218&ref=profile#!/pages/Artists-and-Autism/366165741773?ref=ts

The wonderful people that contribute here have more than ART in common . Another “3~Letter” word: ASD! Autism Spectrum Disorder. We ARE, or LOVE someone on the SPECTRUM! Some of US are professionals with HUGE HEARTS. These professionals do more than earn a paycheck. They have taken Autism to heart. As if, they did have an ASD member in the family! That is so much a part of the magic. The magic that Jeff Kellen has created…propagated and nurtured! This MAGIC. that IS …”A & A on facebook.” Spread the good word!!

I love the fact that I have SO MUCH amazing Talent to choose from when it comes time to do a highlight blog!! Recently the POETRY has been phenomenal. I have picked 3 beautiful poems to share with you today! Our poets are named, Melody Rain, Nicole Nicholson and Sheera Cunningham! These talented ladies brought smiles and tears this week with their powerful words. Describing Autism and how it can make you feel is NOT an EASY task. It is awe inspiring to me how these gals can use just a few carefully chosen words and open SUCH flood-gates to emotion and knowledge! Thank you ladies, one and all~~ VERY WELL DONE!!

Melody Rains work…”Only Me”

once again my life has fallen apart
and has left a crack and a hole inside my heart
i feel so broken within
…..just like i did way back then
why do i have to feel …
so alone
so cold
so unreal?
no one understands
i doubt anyone ever will….
too bad my autism can not be solved by one little magic pill!
i do what others expect of me
i go places and do things
and try hard even if people do not always see!
but not good enough for some
and i wonder why do i even bother to come?
i try to make friends i really do
i try to be nice and sincere and true
all that i think a friend should be
but other times i want to be alone and feel FREE!
there are things about me you may never comprehend
but that does not mean you can not be my friend.
i do not have to be like you
or walk and talk just the way you do
i do not have to think in the way you think
and when i do not why does your heart have to sink?
how come i am the one who caused your frown
why do have to be the one who lets you down???
no one is the exact same
to want it that way…well…life would pretty lame
its ok for me to be different and not be like you
its ok for you to accept that and not wish for me to
be proud of me not what you wish or want me to be.
now please help me mend my heart
and help my world to stop falling apart!
be a true friend
one who is true until the very end.

Written and Copyrighted by Melody Rain (autistic poet,writer & advocate)
i also have the autism exposure page located on facebook.http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000775923218&ref=profile#!/pages/Autism-Exposure/137038026307262?ref=ts

Nicole Nicholson’s work…..

Poem: You Don’t See It

You don’t see it, but some days
I drag moonlit danger behind me like a veil of milky dust
casting itself off of my crown. I balance
armies of fire on the backs of my arms and
use them for wings. I hear
the stars rubbing their legs together for the want of music
and hanging gold fiddled notes on Venus’ earlobes. They
chime, making love in the solar wind.
I strap bass lines onto my back;
wrap chain mail angels around my chest;
strap thunderclouds to the soles of my feet;
and I dance.

You wouldn’t know it,
but I have a thousand Heavens
and just as many Hells burning inside. You see
the computer mind, but not the
glass shatter heart. I sometimes wonder
if I am a transparent kachina in your line of sight, if you can
already see how much I burn; but you
always prove me wrong. You
try to unzip me, and see my eyes fleeing away from you
like startled ponies. Do you really
know me? If you did, you would know that
if I look at you too long, I might burst.

But you don’t know. And how can I tell you?
I consult the dictionary of human behavior every day.
I had to load it into my brain and make it learn
that you open doors with hello and
that you close them with goodbye. I had to learn
the mechanics of when to smile, when to laugh.
If I like you, I tear encyclopedia pages and pictures from off my walls
to give to you as gifts. And if I were to love you, I might
serenade you with music channeled from the
stereo installed into my brain that I first noticed
when I was ten.
But small talk still feels like grease on my
fingertips. And some days, I hear
my own voice rendered in Greek and wonder
when I will speak my own tongue again.

So I will speak my own dialect of
encyclopedia notes, photographs, trivia bank entries,
badly sung covers of the originals, words shaped
like arrows. There may be no smiles, no
dance of our eyes, no oil between us to make things
easier. That’s not how I work, and I am
not ashamed of this. And maybe some day, you will
see me dance.

© 2010 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
Original poem published February 23, 2010
on Raven’s Wing Poetry

Sheera Cunningham’s work…….

this is a poem I wrote for my daughter right around the time of her diagnosis.

PANDORA’S BOX (for faith)

Pandora’s box
…meets Goldilocks
and eyes as blue as the sea
she
connects the dots
and swallows lots
of medication
her remedy
for
a spirit unleashed
on a world a peace
unprepared for a child
as
she
my first born love
to kiss and to hug
locked away from
reality
the miniature me
this porcelain queen
who presents as
my raggedy ann
is lost in a life
where demons creep at night
and
is too young to understand
the monsters that hide
within innocent
minds
and play us
as their wonderland
this child of mine
is
trapped inside
a realm without an upper hand
the games we share
misunderstood
nightmares
from daydreams
to butterflies
she sings in her
dreams
between the screams
my princess who always cries
a heart
of gold
I long to hold
but can’t comfort
this one that I love
a
future to mold
from impulses bold
an angel….misplaced from
above….

Sheera Cunningham

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