Do you enjoy poetry?

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I am such a visual person I just don't like "word art" (aka poetry), but sometimes I wish I did. Poems that tell a story are the easiest ones for me to get because I can visualize the story in my head. Do any of you like poetry? Can you teach yourself to appreciate it more? Any ideas on how to do that? (I am an aspie homeschooling 2 aspies so that why this came up)

There is a poet out there for everyone.

Life would be darker without poetry.

I loved Spike Milligan as a child, silly and surreal poetry.

My favourite poet is Charles Bukowski, themes and language may be a little strong for children.

I know it is possible to learn to appreciate poetry because I have done so myself.

If you're trying to appreciate poetry then the first step is to cast a wide net. You may think you dislike poetry when in reality you only dislike the poetry you've read so far. There is quite a variety of poets and poetic forms. I recommend doing a little bit of research and sampling the famous poets to see if you like any of their work.

With that out of the way, these, are in my opinion, the keys to learning to appreciate poetry.

1. Make sure you are relaxed before you begin and then read the words slowly and patiently.
2. Start off with shorter poems and re read them a couple of time and contemplate them for a bit before you move on.
3. Try reading some poetry out loud, some people find it more enjoyable, you might not, but its important to find out if you have a preference.
4. Read a lot of poetry.

The last one may sound like a catch 22, but I find it is a reliable way to learn to appreciate poetry if you are motivated to.

Thank you! That sounds like good advice! Do you think that there are some types of poetry that are more commonly enjoyed by Aspies? Or that there aren't any types that are more commonly enjoyed, it just takes more time for an Aspie to develop an appreciation for "word art?"

> Do You Enjoy Poetry?

Very much, and extensively. I think for an aspie, you might want to start with more formal poetry, and learn about structural patterns and rhyme schemes -- don't worry about vaguer things like symbolism and metaphor. Think of formal poems as like crystals with special structures to be discovered.

And of course if you want to be really visual/structural, you could try a famous shape poem or two.

Maybe you should have a look at concrete poetry, it will give you the visual aspects you like and maybe will create a bridge to regular poetry.

I'm not sure if there is any kind of poetry that aspies naturally prefer. I am an aspie and I like sonnets, but I don't know if that is something I have in common with other aspies.

Here is an example of a sonnet I enjoy

An Irish Airman foresees his Death

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.



I do not know if aspies take longer to develop an appreciation of poetry. Conventional wisdom tells us that people on the spectrum tend to be more literal minded and thus struggle somewhat with figurative language. This could pose some difficulties, but since this problem effects some worse than it does others I would have to say that it depends on the aspie. If you look under similar topics at the bottom of this page there is a thread where users on this site post their poetry, so aspies who like poetry can't be too rare.

My master's lit meant reading a lot of poetry, and my advice is similar to that already given, look around as there are lots of different kinds.

There are some poems that can put vivid pictures in the mind, there are some poems with thin meaning that are like reading a daft novel, and there are other poems that are so packed with meaning it can take many re readings to unravel, and there are many more kinds besides.

"You don't work on poetry, poetry works on you" - something an old lecturer used to say.

To my mind, reading out poetry aloud to myself has been useful.

Thank you all! Great advice!

Here's an interesting and unusual one, A Martian Sends a Postcard Home
http://www.poetrybyheart.org.uk/poems/a ... card-home/

I know you've probably read this one before but I love Kuba Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.


In Xanadu did KubIa Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chafly grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And `mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And `mid this tumult KubIa heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight `twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honeydew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

My favourite is Dog Days by Derek Mahon

'When you stop to consider
The days spent dreaming of a future
And say then, that was my life.'

For the days are long -
From the first milk van
To the last shout in the night,
An eternity. But the weeks go by
Like birds; and the years, the years
Fly past anti-clockwise
Like clock hands in a bar mirror.

I had an argument with one of my lit professors over the age-old question of sound and sense. I insisted that sound is just as important as sense. I love the metrics, rhythm, alliteration, and patterning. This could be an Aspie thing, IDK.

I love poetry. When I was a kid my Mother (Aspie) didn't read fairy tales to me at bedtime. She read poetry instead. I love the rhythm, the meanings and feelings in words. Made more sense than Fairy tales.

i like simple poetry. it's hard to navigate poetry that circumvents itself.


ah, sunflower, weary of time
who countest the steps of the sun
seeking after that sweet golden clime
where the traveler's journey is done

where the youth pined away with desire
and the pale virgin, shrouded in snow
arise from their graves and aspire
where my sunflower wishes to go

-william blake

^ Do you like haiku? Done properly, it's sublime simplicity.
I like poetry. The poetry I have got the most out of has been contextual, however - I have a certain spiritual teacher who uses poetry a lot to illustrate his point, and will always find a poem that applies beautifully to any concept he is trying to explain. I'm convinced it's sneakily circumventing our analytical minds. It also relates to how beautiful a person he is, how his intentions toward the group are always positive and genuine.
Maybe associating poetry with a positive context could help?
This is one he used to great effect on interconnectedness -

Where Were You Last Year -
Breath deep
Breath deep

The air fills my lungs and then?
My blood receives
This grace by which
I live a few moments more
My every cell replenished.
With every breath
A part of me departs
And something new
Is put in place.

The rice I ate yesterday,
Where is it now?
In my muscle, in my bone.
The juice we shared,
Where has it gone?
In our arms and legs and all.

Last month
The rice waved in the sunshine
In other lands:
In the low flood plains
Of the Mississippi
Or Irrawaddy;
And the fruit hung
On trees in Cyprus
Sicily or Spain.

And before that?
Before that their substance
Was in the soil,
Was in the air,
Was in the seas.
Was in the seas
Waiting to be gathered up
Waiting to soar up into the highest reaches of the sky,
Waiting to become rain.

You and I
Are mostly water.
Last year
Most of each of us
Was in the ocean.
We circulated together
In the Atlantic
Or Pacific perhaps,
For we are mostly water.

And that water was lifted
By sunshine heat
By the impact of photons
Cascading down
Beating upon the ocean’s face.

And every photon
Comes from the sun,
From the belly of the star;
You and I were stars last year.
We chased each other
In the turbulent heart of the sun.

So who was it that lived in your house last year?
And where will you be next week?
Who is your true friend and who your foe?
And who will you be next year?
Breath deep
Breath deep.

This air is me.
This air is you.
This air we share.
I give my substance to you and
You yours to me.

With each breath I am linked
In a single orbit
With the great forests.
My out breath is their food.
Their’s fills my lungs.
Last year
I was a tree
And the tree was me.

Each day
We gather up substance
And continue the task
Of endlessly
Remaking ourselves
From one another.

Each day
We discard a portion
And continue the cycle
Of endlessly
Returning ourselves
To others.

Day by day we change
And become one another,
The substance of the universe,
Stardust and all,
Passing through us each
And we through it.

Where were you last year?
Breath deep,
Breath deep.