Submissions by AutisticPoet (Amanda or Mandy)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
To be as we autistic and not so few, our minds entwined with an autistic view. I am a 36 year old women living with my cat, high functioning autism, dystonia, muscle dystrophy, and chronic pain syndrome.
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
9th Aug 2017 00:22am
9th Aug 2017 00:22am
Expressing My Write
Every poem that I write
is a testimony of what I fight.
illness,
life,
struggle,
and strife
these are the things I fight.
is a testimony of what I fight.
illness,
life,
struggle,
and strife
these are the things I fight.
#LifeStruggles
#LifeAsAWriter
423 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Aug 2017 6:45am
4th Aug 2017 6:45am
The Shady Rose
Weathered Poetry
THE SHADY ROSE
"You can never cover up the truth with a lie, but you can cover up a lie by telling the truth. It's simple, you don't lie from the beginning."
I told my brother this when I was seven years old because I was tired of him getting in trouble.
_______________________
To Be Shady Like You
You might like it if I was shady like you, I’d become something more than just your shadow. My stem will no longer be soft and pliable, and my thorns will be hardened and ruthless.
No longer am I nothing but a...
THE SHADY ROSE
"You can never cover up the truth with a lie, but you can cover up a lie by telling the truth. It's simple, you don't lie from the beginning."
I told my brother this when I was seven years old because I was tired of him getting in trouble.
_______________________
To Be Shady Like You
You might like it if I was shady like you, I’d become something more than just your shadow. My stem will no longer be soft and pliable, and my thorns will be hardened and ruthless.
No longer am I nothing but a...
#lies
#betrayal
#flowers
#shadows
#TruthOfLife
471 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
30th Jul 2017 6:39am
30th Jul 2017 6:39am
Sad Love
I was accused and abused,
I trusted a man who stole
right from my hand.
Why?
Because I believed if someone says they love you,
that means they have respect for you.
I am wrong,
love doesn’t make someone trustworthy
or a nice person.
Being honest happens
when someone is truthful,
Being nice happens
if someone is truly nice.
If you are a nice person deep inside you won’t find it hard to be kind.
You won’t have to work at it,
because it’s been there the whole time.
I have been told by one...
I trusted a man who stole
right from my hand.
Why?
Because I believed if someone says they love you,
that means they have respect for you.
I am wrong,
love doesn’t make someone trustworthy
or a nice person.
Being honest happens
when someone is truthful,
Being nice happens
if someone is truly nice.
If you are a nice person deep inside you won’t find it hard to be kind.
You won’t have to work at it,
because it’s been there the whole time.
I have been told by one...
546 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
29th Jul 2017 9:57pm
29th Jul 2017 9:57pm
Dear Rose Bud
Oh dear rose bud,
how you blush in the morning sun.
Dear rose bud,
How I feel about your rooted bud,
your closeness to the Earth,
your perfumed memories
and your fragile stem.
Oh my rose bud,
how I feel about your petals
and your bashful ways.
I admire your beauty
and your fragrance reminds me
of dreams of the misty forest’s.
Such memories you provoke,
such things you remind me of.
Soft walls of beautiful
floral gardens,
once again I am taken back to
my secret garden.
...
how you blush in the morning sun.
Dear rose bud,
How I feel about your rooted bud,
your closeness to the Earth,
your perfumed memories
and your fragile stem.
Oh my rose bud,
how I feel about your petals
and your bashful ways.
I admire your beauty
and your fragrance reminds me
of dreams of the misty forest’s.
Such memories you provoke,
such things you remind me of.
Soft walls of beautiful
floral gardens,
once again I am taken back to
my secret garden.
...
457 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Jul 2017 2:09am
20th Jul 2017 2:09am
Gothic Kisses For The Moon
My love for night
shines brightly in the sky.
Every evening my heart
revels itself as my love rises,
full and final, as the moon.
shines brightly in the sky.
Every evening my heart
revels itself as my love rises,
full and final, as the moon.
447 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
20th Jul 2017 00:23am
20th Jul 2017 00:23am
Tainted Kiss
It caused shivers down your spine,
chill's to roll through your core,
it poisoned your mind
with passionate caresses
that stained life.
A kiss,
like a bee sting it lingers
after it has gone.
Your heart beats faster,
your breathing becomes chaotic
and rapid as skin touches skin.
It was a kiss.
chill's to roll through your core,
it poisoned your mind
with passionate caresses
that stained life.
A kiss,
like a bee sting it lingers
after it has gone.
Your heart beats faster,
your breathing becomes chaotic
and rapid as skin touches skin.
It was a kiss.
520 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
15th Jul 2017 5:32am
15th Jul 2017 5:32am
Lover's Out At Sea
Breathe deeply,
taking in the taste
of the salty air,
that lives upon
the chaotic sea.
As waves crash a shore;
my heart takes flight
with each pounding tide,
my passions ride,
and with each roll
there comes a kiss.
Owed to my Sea born lover,
stole my heart,
under the cover
of the rolling waves.
taking in the taste
of the salty air,
that lives upon
the chaotic sea.
As waves crash a shore;
my heart takes flight
with each pounding tide,
my passions ride,
and with each roll
there comes a kiss.
Owed to my Sea born lover,
stole my heart,
under the cover
of the rolling waves.
573 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
13th Jul 2017 10:57pm
13th Jul 2017 10:57pm
To Sleep When Sleep Has Neglected Me
Like a shadow you stalk me,
then you neglect me
before the rising sun
rose for me.
Now I lie alone
as I post on my phone,
writing this poem.
Sleep, you forgot about me,
what happened to our relationship?
Why do you leave me?
All I want is a restful mind,
instead I have a restless mind.
Oh sleep please come find me
its past my bedtime.
______________________________
I wrote this early this morning at 2:03am because I couldn't sleep. I finally got sleep around 3 am.
then you neglect me
before the rising sun
rose for me.
Now I lie alone
as I post on my phone,
writing this poem.
Sleep, you forgot about me,
what happened to our relationship?
Why do you leave me?
All I want is a restful mind,
instead I have a restless mind.
Oh sleep please come find me
its past my bedtime.
______________________________
I wrote this early this morning at 2:03am because I couldn't sleep. I finally got sleep around 3 am.
482 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
8th Jul 2017 10:48pm
8th Jul 2017 10:48pm
Owed To Gothic literature
Oh how I love the moon
it reminds me of your poetic gloom.
Such passionate beams
devours my mood.
My love for Gothic literature
seeps through the paper,
it stains my format with
a grungy texture.
Owed to Gothic literature,
a beautiful format,
gloomy,
no dulled senses,
no wasted sentences;
only foggy days,
and a gloomy haze.
it reminds me of your poetic gloom.
Such passionate beams
devours my mood.
My love for Gothic literature
seeps through the paper,
it stains my format with
a grungy texture.
Owed to Gothic literature,
a beautiful format,
gloomy,
no dulled senses,
no wasted sentences;
only foggy days,
and a gloomy haze.
631 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
8th Jul 2017 7:33pm
8th Jul 2017 7:33pm
A Dark Poets Night
Of many a night I sat writing
to let my thoughts roam free,
the poetic runnel ran steady
and the streem flowed free.
Such night's as this,
I become more than just the poet,
I become the lady of the night
planning plots to take over the night,
with pen and paper as my weapon.
Devouring the moon with
my poetic gloom,
I watch as the moon swoons
and its shadow plays.
With each word I write
it's wane guides my write and
clears my writer's block.
Upon this night I become
the lady...
to let my thoughts roam free,
the poetic runnel ran steady
and the streem flowed free.
Such night's as this,
I become more than just the poet,
I become the lady of the night
planning plots to take over the night,
with pen and paper as my weapon.
Devouring the moon with
my poetic gloom,
I watch as the moon swoons
and its shadow plays.
With each word I write
it's wane guides my write and
clears my writer's block.
Upon this night I become
the lady...
490 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Jul 2017 8:35pm
4th Jul 2017 8:35pm
To The Moon
I love your beams,
Your shimmer and shine.
I love your waves;
you push the tides
with your wane,
casting your reflection
upon our Ocean tides.
I love your fullness
and your curves are so divine.
I love your dusty ways,
I find you beautiful, mysterious,
elegant, and callus
in your concrete state of change.
To the moon,
I have confessed
my darkest fears,
You never laughed
nor judged me,
You always lent me your ear.
You listened to my poetry,
without biasing;
you...
Your shimmer and shine.
I love your waves;
you push the tides
with your wane,
casting your reflection
upon our Ocean tides.
I love your fullness
and your curves are so divine.
I love your dusty ways,
I find you beautiful, mysterious,
elegant, and callus
in your concrete state of change.
To the moon,
I have confessed
my darkest fears,
You never laughed
nor judged me,
You always lent me your ear.
You listened to my poetry,
without biasing;
you...
522 reads
9 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Jul 2017 8:00pm
4th Jul 2017 8:00pm
Rose Bud
My rose grew as my tears
hydrate its bloom.
Our love is unique,
She a blooming bud,
I a stealer of breath.
I sat her in my handmade vase,
hydrating her roots each morning.
I shared my poetry,
She shows no judgement,
yet still she is but a rose,
her stillness cultivates my curiosity.
I wonder if she hears my voice,
if she feels my presence, my touch.
Can my rose be more than just a
rooted bud?
Her petals are wilting,
like burning parchment paper
over a candles flame, ...
hydrate its bloom.
Our love is unique,
She a blooming bud,
I a stealer of breath.
I sat her in my handmade vase,
hydrating her roots each morning.
I shared my poetry,
She shows no judgement,
yet still she is but a rose,
her stillness cultivates my curiosity.
I wonder if she hears my voice,
if she feels my presence, my touch.
Can my rose be more than just a
rooted bud?
Her petals are wilting,
like burning parchment paper
over a candles flame, ...
444 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by AutisticPoet (Amanda or Mandy)
