Because I Could Not Stop For Death

Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the School, where Children strove
At recess in the ring
We passed the fields of gazing grain
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us
The dews drew quivering and chill
For only Gossamer, my gown
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the GROUND
The roof was scarcely visible
The cornice in the ground.

Since then 'tis centuries and yet
Feels shorter than the DAY
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.


by Emily Dickinson

Welcome to Holland

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this…



When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum, the Michelangelo David, the gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.



After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."



"Holland?!" you say. "What do you mean, Holland?" I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy.



But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.



The important thing is that they haven't taken you to some horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.



So you must go out and buy a new guidebook. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.



It's just a different place. It's slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.



But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."



The pain of that will never, ever, go away, because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.



But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

Written by Emily Perl Kingsley


To read more beautiful and heartwarming autism poems click here.

I Can’t Remember

I can’t remember
skipping rocks on the beach
My childhoods forgotten
My childhoods lost.

Going to the doctor
Making mud cakes
Playing with friends in the street.

I can’t remember
All the bereavement
My childhoods forgotten
My childhoods lost.

The doctor doing surgery
Me getting pain pills
I can’t remember any of it
None of it’s clear.

I still can’t remember,
How it’s gone
My childhoods forgotten
My childhoods lost.


by Jamesha Willis

The Bandit

Upon his way to rob a Bank
He paused to watch a fire;
Though crowds were pressing rank on rank
He pushed a passage nigher;
Then sudden heard, piercing and wild,
The screaming of a child.
A Public Enemy was he,
A hater of the law;
He looked around for bravery
But only fear he saw;
Then to the craven crowds amaze
He plunged into the blaze.
How anguished was the waiting spell
Of horror and of pain!
Then--then from out that fiery hell
He staggered forth again:
The babe was safe, in blankets wrapt,
The man flame lapt.
His record was an evil one,
Of violence and sin.
No good on earth he'd ever done,
Yet--may he Heaven win!
A gangster he . . . Is it not odd?
--With guts of God.

by Robert William Service

Far Away In The Near Distance

Far away in the near distance.
Stands a dream with no signs of resistance.
This dream exists in each and every one of us.
Yet we look back and forth.
Truly trying to understand.
Who is this weird man.
Talking of dreams and man.
I speak of happiness and peace.
If we all could understand.
We kill one another.
Then ask the question why we struggle.
If life is given.
Why not give it a chance.
Love and forgiveness a dream we all can agree.
Is something you and me can see.
Far away in the near distance.

by Edward Morales

You Have A History

You were only six
But your eyes seemed hundreds of years older
And when you asked me if the lines on your palm told your future
I couldn't help but laugh
Because, babe, you had it backwards.

The curvy one growing up from your wrist is the stem
You were once a flower
And the zigzag striking across your palm is the path
You were lightning
The squiggly one that dances from the base of your thumb to the pinky
Isn't it beautiful to know how to fly?

Remember you were a bird
And the ebbing lines running across it all
Waves, you were the most wonderful sea
The ones slowly sliding down from your first finger
Paint.

You were god's masterpiece
Then, finally the short, straight, horizontal
Lines rushing all too quickly across your fingers
Oh, isn't it obvious?

Human.

Poem in October

It was my thirtieth year to heaven

Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood   

      And the mussel pooled and the heron

                  Priested shore

            The morning beckon

With water praying and call of seagull and rook

And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall   

            Myself to set foot

                  That second

      In the still sleeping town and set forth.

      My birthday began with the water-

Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name   

      Above the farms and the white horses

                  And I rose   

            In rainy autumn

And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.

High tide and the heron dived when I took the road

            Over the border

                  And the gates

      Of the town closed as the town awoke.

      A springful of larks in a rolling

Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling   

      Blackbirds and the sun of October

                  Summery

            On the hill’s shoulder,

Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly   

Come in the morning where I wandered and listened   

            To the rain wringing

                  Wind blow cold

      In the wood faraway under me.

      Pale rain over the dwindling harbour

And over the sea wet church the size of a snail   

      With its horns through mist and the castle   

                  Brown as owls

            But all the gardens

Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales   

Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.   

            There could I marvel

                  My birthday

      Away but the weather turned around.

      It turned away from the blithe country

And down the other air and the blue altered sky   

      Streamed again a wonder of summer

                  With apples

            Pears and red currants

And I saw in the turning so clearly a child’s

Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother   

            Through the parables

                  Of sun light

      And the legends of the green chapels

      And the twice told fields of infancy

That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.   

      These were the woods the river and sea

                  Where a boy

            In the listening

Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy   

To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.

            And the mystery

                  Sang alive

      Still in the water and singingbirds.

      And there could I marvel my birthday

Away but the weather turned around. And the true   

      Joy of the long dead child sang burning

                  In the sun.

            It was my thirtieth

Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon   

Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.   

            O may my heart’s truth

                  Still be sung

      On this high hill in a year’s turning.

by Dylan Thomas

A World of Lost Minds

The morning sun had set
now the night would beget
the sparkling stars that shine
speaking to this heart of mine

Where art thou Lord of dreams
I watch the ethereal streams of
haunted souls go by bringing 
tears to my eyes for all of their
needs

 For I am not content until I get
consent to enter the depths of
discernment to learn the measure
of your design so that you may
define my deeds

The systems of the world are meeting
manic minds  scheming  to  lay waste
causing hell in haste,  as the  liars who
live in lairs , can't get away from the
truths they fear, minds now lost

At what cost, the ignorant and numb
rely on the common sense of some
to save them from, the trials that lie
before us hoping to stem the evil course,
while they just find a place to play

Must the past be repeated, by the
indifferent who will retreat, allowing
things to pass them by, without even
trying to understand that our
nightmares have become a reality

by E T Waldron

The Rider

A boy told me

if he roller-skated fast enough

his loneliness couldn’t catch up to him,

the best reason I ever heard

for trying to be a champion.

What I wonder tonight

pedaling hard down King William Street

is if it translates to bicycles.

A victory! To leave your loneliness

panting behind you on some street corner

while you float free into a cloud of sudden azaleas,

pink petals that have never felt loneliness,

no matter how slowly they fell.


by Naomi Shihab Nye

Hidden Mystery

For yesterday is but a dream,
And tomorrow is but a vision.
But today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness,
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.In the deepest depths of you and me
In the deepest depths of we
Lies the most beautiful jewel
Shining forth eternally

Within that precious jewel
Within that priceless piece of we
Lies a time beyond all time
Lies a place beyond all space

Within that sacred source of radiance
Lies a love beyond all love
Waiting
          Waiting
                    Waiting
Ever so patiently

Waiting for you, waiting for me
Waiting patiently for all to see
The beauty that is you inside of me
The beauty that is me inside of thee

In the deepest depths of you and me
In the deepest depths of we
Lies the love and wisdom
Of all Eternity


By Fred Burks

Go With The Flow

If the sky above seems cloudy
and you are left out in the rain
If you are searching for a rainbow
but the colors bring you pain
If your world is not revolving
and there is no end in sight
If yu are looking for the sunshine
but all you can see is night
If all around you are smiling
but all you can do is frown
If you are tired of all this living
because life just brings you down
Then look beyond your teardrops
at the wonders of this land
The beauty of a flower
like velvet in your hand
Feel the air around you
the smell of fresh mown hay
Laughing children in the park
the innocence there at play
Imagine floating with a butterfly
as she flutters between the trees
Or the whispers of the ocean
on a warm summer's breeze
Think of the taste of cotton candy
as it melts upon your tongue
Or the melody of morning birds
as they greet the new day with a song
Remember words of beauty
told in your mother's embrace
Feel the gentleness of her touch
as she softly kissed your face
See the good within you
cast the clouds from your sky
Don't look toward the pavement
but hold your head up high
Think not of what life owes you
but of all you have to give
Forget about tomorrow
then you can start to live
So bless this day you're living in
with the gifts you can bestow
Don't disregard the stream of life
GO GENTLY WITH THE FLOW....

Lost Souls

In this heartless creation
It is hard to understand
Why some souls choose to wander
Forgetting

Yet I am lost without wandering
My love is a ghost
Ancient - with wisdom
Vital - with tears
Not able to move on
Unable to let go

It's hard to remember a love
You don't recognize in this life
Yet the memory is without thought
Agony - without knowledge
This love - is without mercy

Passing through eternity
Life to the next
Forever searching
In a labyrinth of whispers
For a blissful love
Lost

Longing for the touch
I'll sense when I feel
Whispering to my heart
Comforting this stoned soul

Our love burns within me
But I am lost in the shadows
This entity of dreams
Forever killing me

I believe this love is eternal
The flame will not relinquish
Forever circling me
The very matter of my existence

But for now I simply breath
Awaiting your rescue
Music - bonding our souls
Pain - stirring the memories
While silence shouts out this melody

By Sweet Madness

THE RAINBOW BRIDGE POEM

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

 
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

 
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

 
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
 

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Different

How are we so "different"?

If "different" is just a thing.

If we all have certain features,

What does "different" bring?



People filled with hatred,

Can't possibly see,

That there's not really "differences"

Between you and me.



Looks can't show "difference",

If they're just there to be seen.

If you don't look like someone else,

Why are they so mean?



If being "different" is what is wrong,

I'd rather not be right.

And I'd want to finish living,

Doing the "different" fight.

 by Vincen Tabatha

"Life" - A Poem By Marilyn Monroe

Life,
I am of both your directions
Existing more with the cold frost
Strong as a cobweb in the wind
Hanging downward the most
Somehow remaining
Those beaded rays have the colors
I've seen in paintings--ah life
They have cheated you
Thinner than a cobwebs's thread
Sheerer than any-
But it did attach itself
And held fast in strong winds
And singed by the leaping hot fires
Life-of which at singular times
I am both of your directions-
Somehow I remain hanging downward the most
As both of your directions pull me.

Written by Marilyn Monroe

"It Is Never Too Late To Become What You Might Have Been"

Ever wished you would have done something, but didn't? Something you wanted to do, perhaps even needed to do; but for one reason or no reason at all, you just never did. We all have. And many of us still do. Instead of doing, we don't. And a lifetime of missed opportunities passes us by.


What's the deal here? What makes us frequently turn our backs on the very things that are important to us, things that give our lives meaning and purpose? Why do we needlessly allow so many magical moments to silently slip away?


Why do we leave a trail littered with broken promises and unfulfilled dreams instead of just doing what needs to be done?



"Everything comes too late for those who only wait."
Elbert Hubbard

While there are as many reasons as stars in the sky for not doing what we need to do, the most popular explanation is the old reliable 'it's too late' excuse. Since it's too late, there's no sense doing it. So we don't.


But can it ever really be too late? No, no, absolutely no.


Regardless of how desperate life gets or how hopeless things look, it's never too late. No matter how low we have sunk or how far behind we have fallen, it's never too late. As long as there is a single breath left in our bodies, there's always a chance. And a chance is all we need to turn things around.


As long as we're willing to take that chance, we've got a chance.



"The time for action is now. It's never too late to do something."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Can it ever be too late to open your heart, to open your eyes, to allow life's best to come rushing in?


Can it ever be too late to do your best, to be your best and to make your dreams come true?


Can it ever be too late to give it a try, to give it a whirl, to take your best shot and see where it takes you?


Can it ever be too late to show your appreciation, to express your gratitude, or to simply say 'thank you?'


Can it ever be too late to savor a sunset, to relax in the woods or treasure the tranquility of the endless heavens above?



"There is an immeasurable distance between late and too late."
Og Mandino

Can it ever be too late to care, to share, to hug a loved one or to say I love you?


Can it ever be too late to do a good deed, to whisper a kind word or to offer a hand in need?


Can it ever be too late to flash a friendly smile, to laugh a hearty laugh, or enjoy a meaningful moment?


As long as you're willing to give it a go, it is never too late. And there is just too much to love about life to simply give up and quit. You need to start living boldly, bravely, with nothing held back, nothing left behind. Giving it all that you've got each and every day. No matter how old or how young you may be right now, it's never too late to love, to live, to be all that you have dreamed of being and more.


So get out there a make today a truly memorable day, a fabulous day, a super sensational day that you'll cherish forever.


The Bottom Line: You need to live every second of every minute of every hour of your life.