Hello everyone, some of you probably don't know me as of yet being that I am a new member. Anyway I am writing a book of poetry, much of which is influenced by Aspergers. I thought I'd share two of the poems from that collection. Let me know what you think and i'll keep you posted on the book. These two have little to do with AS at first glance but were inspired by a nostalgiac obsession for things from my childhood which is a big part of AS in addition to a metaphorical longing for something that is no longer there. Thanks for tkaing the time to read them, i am somewhat inexperienced as a poet and and haven't fancied myself as one in the past but it is a great way to convey things which are difficult for me to express otherwise.
CEDAR CREEK PLACE
Brian Witt
Like the leaves of the trees which now ride on the wind,
I have left from my home to seek solace again.
It seems now that eons have passed since the days,
That I ran through the meadows of Cedar Creek Place.
In the years of my youth with two eyes shining bright,
I could play through the day and tell tales in the night.
Just as eager as me, Sara followed along,
But today she is distant; I know not where she’s gone.
Now my life in the city has taken my pride,
And I long to return to that place in the pines,
So I’ve left now that I might find nature’s embrace
In the gardens and meadows at Cedar Creek Place.
As I get there I find out that little remains,
The cabin is gone and the fields have been paved.
For a long time I weep then return to the road,
As I mourn for the loss of my childhood home.
Once back in the city I grow old alone,
Lost from the Eden from which I had grown.
Now my memory is gone, it has vanished with age,
Because time is a judge; it doth take life away.
MUSINGS OF A DREAMER
Brian Witt
The rays of pale moonlight gently brush against my face,
And paint a pristine picture on the canvas of my eyes.
I frolic in the forests of a world of endless grace,
And look upon a starlit cove while soaring in the sky.
An ancient sage of ceaseless age descends into this world,
“What seek you traveler?” says the sage, “A dream to ease your mind?”
“I know not,” say I, “except that I am looking for a girl,
Long ago she came this way, now her I cannot find.”
“I’ve seen this girl of whom you speak,” replies the withered Sage,
“She passed into the realm of dreams and there she shall remain.”
“May I see her,” say I to he, “just once before I wake?”
“You may not,” explains the sage, “the living must abstain.”
Before I grasp his words the sunlight renders me awake,
Tomorrow night I’ll try again; I long to see her face.
22 Apr 2007, 6:30 pm
