This collection of autism poems is always growing. People send in new poems all the time. So be sure to check back regularly if you want to read the latest that's being written in this little niche of the poetry world.
This isn't the poetry of Robert Frost or Edgar Allan Poe. They were both great poets but neither of them had autism as best we can tell. And although they each had a unique view of the world their views were nothing like the view of people affected by autism and other spectrum disorders. Autism poems tell a story from a different angle that few classical poets could see.
Poetry is what gets lost in translation. - Robert Frost
Public Display of Autism
by Tina Moreland
If he falls to the floor, kicking and screaming, because there’s no chicken nuggets, it’s just his way of coping. Be patient, you’ll get your turn to order.
If she bumps her head and starts to hit herself in the face, don’t stare, it’s her frustration. Mom will handle it, she see’s it everyday.
If dad is cutting his child’s food, he’s not treating him like baby. He just doesn’t want his son to choke.
If she ignores your child on the playground, she’s not a brat. She’s just not good at social interaction. She would love to play with your child, she just doesn’t know how.
He may be to big to sit in the shopping cart, no, he’s not lazy. He wants to run around, but his mom needs to shop. She’s not up for chasing him today.
If she has to be carried out screaming, it’s probably because of a meltdown. Be helpful, open the door. Don’t just stare or whisper. No, it’s not because she didn’t get the toy she wanted. If it were only that simple.
Don’t talk to her like a child, unless she is one. Don’t yell, she’s not deaf. She may not talk, but she can understand.
No, it’s not bad parenting. Discipline won’t help.
This is autism, it’s his life. Don’t judge him, he’s not judging you.
Untitled
by Rachela Anderson
We are the children and adults with autism.
We are not "naughty",
But we are different
I am a girl with autism.
I am twelve years old.
I do not speak,
But I do understand.
I am a little boy with autism.
I am three years old,
And my mommy is scared
Because I seem to be in my own world.
I am a man with autism.
People call me
"The weird one",
But I am misunderstood.
We are the children and adults with autism.
We are not "naughty",
But we are different.
Workplace Interpersonal Skills
by Kate Gladstone
As I was heading homeward on the bus at 6:03,
I overheard two people, and they were discussing me:
My workplace supervisor, Ann, complaining to her boss
That, though I did my job quite well, I was a social loss.
"She does not like the office parties our department throws:
She comes, she tries to be polite -- it's TRYING. Well, that shows.
She's helpful, kind, she stays on task. Subordinates and I
Depend on her for research ... still, we wish she'd quit or die."
Her boss asked questions. Then she said: "Yes, Ann, that type I know.
I cannot put my finger on just why they ought to go.
I do not care how well they do: when folks like that are hired,
If we can't make them want to quit, it's best to have them fired."
Ann said: "Oh, yes, she's got to go. I sure agree that's true.
I've planned a little accident. I'll share the news with you.
You know the First Aid training all our staffers have to pass?
Her name's been dropped discreetly from the roster for the class."
(I'd heard no hint of this before. In fact, I had been told
By Ann, that very afternoon: "Tomorrow you're enrolled
To take the First Aid session. Please be here by half-past eight --
The first floor auditorium: no credit if you're late.")
So I spoke up (in terror at how rude I must appear) --
"Why, Ann! And Mrs. Sánchez! What a pleasure meeting here!"
They turned and glared and frowned because they knew I knew they knew
I'd overheard each single word of what they aimed to do.
I kept that job -- because by eight I'd memoed Personnel,
And "cc"ed several advocates the tale I had to tell.
(But other times I've lost a job, I've wondered: "Was it me,
Or was it conversation on the bus at 6:03?")
It's Autism Sunday
by Kate Gladstone
It's Autism Sunday, that one day a year
We welcome in fellowship "THOSE folks" 'round here.
We pray to become more autistic-aware
On this one special Sunday: the rest, we don't care.
We'll pray for you all, you're the cause of the week:
But please don't imagine that YOU ought to speak!
We pray for you, speak for you, WE shall decide --
WE steer the course, you're along for the ride!
We'll pray you get healthcare and all of that stuff --
We'll pray once again -- now, that SHOULD be enough!
Sure, come 'round next Sunday if help you still seek --
And we will inform you: "We prayed that last week!"
The service is ended, we rush to the door --
Till "Autism Sunday" next year, we'll ignore
The folks that we pray for, this one day a year:
It's "Autism Sunday," we're SO glad you're here!
