Desert Poem

I see you in the desert where,

You’re wandering alone,

But what you have forgotten is,

I haven’t left my throne.

.

If you take my hand, I’ll lead you out,

But you need to make that choice,

I’ll never force or pressure you,

I’ll guide you with my voice.

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I am a patient father and,

I’ll love you either way,

But I want to save you heartaches,

And remove your constant pain.

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I have a master plan for you,

It’s been there all along,

I know you wandered off the path,

But I also made you strong.

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My strength in you has kept you as,

You weathered storms and strife,

My spirit has sustained you when,

You wanted to give up on life.

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Your heart is soft and beats for me,

Though you’ve said things you regret,

You momentarily lost your way,

But when I forgive – I forget.

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My chosen child, my precious one,

Be still and rest in me,

I’ll guide your steps and hold you close,

For all eternity.

 

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A Mothers Love: Poem for my son.

The school bell rang and children rushed,

Toward their classroom doors,

I saw you pull your hat down firm,

And brace yourself – then pause.

.

And as you walked inside your room, 

I noticed you inhale,

Your hands you pulled into your sleeves,

Your face began to pale.

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I saw you mutter to yourself,

And count your steps until, 

You noticed I was watching you,

Then stopped and stood dead still.

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I think you’re brave , you push yourself,

Out of your comfort zone,

I see this and it makes me proud,

I know you’d rather stay home.

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You think that you have got me fooled,

And that I’ve got no clue,

But I’m your Mum – I see your pain,

In most things that you do.

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I know that when you pace and count,

You’re trying to pro-cess,

And when your brow is screwed up tight,

It means you’re getting stressed.

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You sometimes find it hard to speak,

And tell me how you feel,

When you get home from school each day,

For you that pain is real!

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I’ve come to learn that you express,

Emotions differently,

As either happiness or rage,

And nothing in between.

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I need to show you other ways,

To let your feelings out,

There are better ways to show me these,

You needn’t scream and shout.

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Just know son that no matter what,

I’ll love you with my all,

I’m here to guide you through these years,

And catch you if you fall.

Step back in time

My Mum has decided to do a really big clean out in her house. Kind of like spring cleaning. But it’s winter.

Well….she calls it “downsizing so that there’s not so much for you and your sister to sort through when I die” but that’s far too morbid for my liking! So winter/spring cleaning it is 🙂

And last week while I was up there, she was clearing boxes out from under her stair case and she pulled out a dusty box full of all the school work that we brought home over the years!

I can’t believe she has kept it all!

Especially since I am the mother who throws out everything. I can’t stand piles of paper everywhere. School work doesn’t last long here.

{Although, having said that: I do keep the really special pieces of artwork that all my kids have done and have laminated them for posterity. So I’m not totally evil! }

I have had an absolute ball reading through all my old school books and I especially loved reading the poetry that I wrote when I was in grade 2. I had a whole book called “I can write stories” . CUTE!

I noticed that my love for writing poetry and writing in general must have started earlier than I remember and I laughed and laughed at the stories that my little 7 year old brain came up with!

Here is a poem/story that I wrote called: Scott’s Tortoise learnt to fly

(And here’s a little bit of behind the scenes info for you: Scott was my very first boyfriend. We were SO in love LOL)

…..
One day when I was out playing,
Suddenly I heard someone wailing,
I looked right up to the sky,
And then I saw a tortoise trying to fly,
And so I shouted loud to him,
“Come on, come on, and fly to that limb”
I climbed up that limb and got him down,
And ran with him right out of town.
…..

Hilarious!

Wonder what else I’ll come across 🙂

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Unsent letter

To the person who has hurt us,

You do know who you are,

I want to tell you here- right now,

That you have gone too far.

.

I want to let you know that we,

Still love you just the same,

But it hurts me when you judge our ways,

And give me all the blame

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You know my life is not like yours,

And it will never be,

I do the best with what I have,

So please don’t bad mouth me

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My children know that they come first,

And have my full attention,

So forgive me now, if you’ve to wait,

And I am not perfection

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I feel that you just inward look,

And make it all about you,

But in THIS house, we’re not that way,

You never seem to approve

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I’m sorry if you feel that I,

Have been a dreadful pain,

I have no time for childish rants,

It’s puts me off my game

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My days are filled with ASDs

And everything that includes,

So give me grace when I am not,

Always in the happiest moods

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I’m sorry that I sometimes get,

All tense and non compliant,

But all this stress has turned my woes,

Into a towering giant.

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I’ve never claimed to be immune,

To snapping under pressure,

But bringing up the past to us,

Just brings us such displeasure.

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So instead of focusing on yourself,

Why not offer to shoulder our burden,

And walk a mile in different shoes,

Before just spurting your poison.

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I work so hard but still you want,

To criticize me and complain,

You won’t believe in ASDs

So it’s always just the same…

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I’ve tried to tell you all I can,

But you don’t want to listen,

So saying that I am “not right”

Has been your latest mission

.

If I’m “not right” then why do I,

Do most of this myself?

And manage to raise gorgeous kids,

With barely any help?

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The things that you’ve complained about,

Weren’t done to tick you off,

My heart was right, and full of love,

But now….I’ve had enough

.

I can’t go on pretending that,

Everything is now okay,

I’ve tried my best – but it’s not enough,

I’ve nothing left to say

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I truly hope that you get to,

The place where you find peace,

I pray that God will bless you lots,

And that this tension now will cease…..

Different NOT less.

This poem was inspired by a number of things that have transpired here lately. Firstly by Eustacia Grandin Cutler who is Dr. Temple Grandin’s mother who coined the phrase “Different not less”. She wanted the world to know that her daughter is remarkable but my no means any less of a masterpiece just because her thoughts and ideas are sometimes a little left of centre.

Another inspiration for this poem comes from sitting down at night and talking to Harley about his day and hearing the pain in his voice as he is starting to realise that he is different to his peers.

He has had a lot of “down” moments lately and it has been coming out in his behaviours at home.

No-one else is privy to this hurting side of him and that’s one of the downsides to being high-functioning I guess. He is able to recognise that he is an anomaly and is trying his darndest to change that and I’m so mega proud of my boy but sometimes feel like I’m standing on the sidelines watching a traumatic event take place before my very eyes and all I can do is stand anchored to the ground with my arms ties to my side unable to do anything to help him.


Sometimes I want to run away,

And leave it all behind,

I’m tired of the exhaustion, want

To quit the daily grind

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The tiny things that make me see,

The hugeness of this task,

Of raising special children is,

A really montstrous ask.

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It’s not the normal Mummy things,

That make me want to yell,

I can do the meals, the baths, the chores,

And manage very well.

.

The dressing kids and sorting fights,

And homework battles too,

I get that every other Mum,

Feels like she runs a zoo!

.

No, it’s not the things that we ALL do,

That make my tears begin,

And threaten to undo my cool,

and break my heart within.

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It’s seeing how the simplest things,

Can totally undo,

My child because he cannot tell,

Me what he’s needing to.

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When he erupts if he can’t cope,

I sense his physical pain,

I see the torment in his eyes,

And watch him thrash again.

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He wants to be like all his friends,

He wants to blend right in,

He knows he’s different and that hurts,

His feelings through and through.

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My mother’s heart just breaks apart,

When he tries to adjust,

To sit in crowds, with noise and lights,

And try to look non-plussed.

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The things that others take for granted,

Really causes me stress,

I want the world to realise that,

He’s different but NOT less.

Tossing out the pebbles.

Decisions are like skimming rocks upon a glistening lake,

Some glide while others plummet and then sink,

I make my plans and polish the stones to see if I can make,

My choices win and not end up in the drink.

~

I’m asking lots of questions but the answer does not come,

Solutions wave and mock me from afar,

I feel my strength unraveling; I’m slowly being undone,

I wonder if it has to be this hard?

~

The answers are in reach although I don’t know where to start,

I question if I really know my stuff?

My priorities are ordered and I know them all by heart,

But I doubt that they will ever be enough.

~

If I could figure out just what my next few moves should be,

And make my brain relax and take a break,

I know then that I’d understand and be able to see,

In front of me and just what is at stake.

~

I need to learn to lay things down and not let them control,

My every waking thought until I crack,

But I’m the kind that feels all things with heart as well as soul,

And know that there’s no room for turning back.

~

I know that once I stop and rest: The answer will hunt ME down,

But that requires me to let things be,

And that’s much easier said than done – I feel like I could drown,

But I have to or I’ll never again be free.

Another side of me.

Hello beautiful readers.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and I’ve decided that it’s time to reveal a bit more of myself. No – I’m not going to start stripping my clothes off!

But I am going to publish the link to my “other” blog.

I have been writing this other blog since last October and originally the link was only given to a handful of close friends but now I’ve decided that I’m ok about being more public.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I am a Christian on this blog but the purpose of Wonderfully Wired has never been to be used as a preaching platform. It’s main focus will still remain on the ups and downs of raising children on the autistic spectrum and my other blog “Being Still and Listening” is for me to write about my walk with Christ.  It mostly consists of poetry and letters and isn’t updated as frequently as this one is.

I hope to see you there!

http://www.stilltohear.wordpress.com.au or you can simply click –> HERE <–

Fi xx

King David rocks!


 Things have been rough here lately. I won’t bore you with the details but the basics are: Harley has been a NIGHTMARE, some plans that I thought were going to come to pass never eventuated and my children have been at constant loggerheads for WEEKS now!

I sat down in the sunshine this morning with a pen in my hand and my journal so I could write it all out. I just wanted to purge myself of these depressive emotions and helpless thoughts..

I was chatting to my Mum on the phone afterwards and she commented and how similar my words were to that of David’s Psalm 13 in the bible.

I giggled as I told her that I had just finished writing a poem and I read some of it out to her on he phone.

But mine is definitely more of a 2011 version and more specific to my current issues. The main similarity is that I too have been asking God why on earth he is not answering my questions and why he seems to be hiding from me!

…….

Is it meant to be this flippin’ hard ,

I need to catch a break

The constant strife and sibling wars,

Are more than I can take!

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Poor Ella says she’s had enough,

And really wants to leave,

I know exactly how she feels,

I’d also like a reprieve.

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Just simple tasks like getting dressed,

Result in big explosions,

Of tears and kicks and hits and cries,

And un-controlled emotions.

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Each day I swear it’s getting worse,

My patience is wearing thin,

Does it really improve? Or is that just a joke?

Will we EVER start to win?

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I thought by now we’d start to see,

Improvement NOT back-sliding,

So why do I feel like I need to go,

Retreat back into hiding?

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We’ve got the cards of visual clues,

Stuck up on every surface,

But still we fight and tempers flare,

Do we honestly deserve this?

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What will it take for them to see,

They’re tearing me apart?

Every stupid whinge and silly fight,

Stabs right into my heart.

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I KNOW that God has said he won’t

Forsake or leave my side,

But I cannot seem to find him here,

Maybe he’s hidden beneath my pride?

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He also promised that there is,

A great plan for my life,

His will isn’t for me to be just another,

Exhausted mother and wife.

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So even though it hurts so much,

I’ll choose to seek His face,

And look to Him and his guiding light,

Until I complete this race.

.

.

Psalm 13

    For the director of music. A psalm of David.

 1 How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever? 
   How long will you hide your face from me? 
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts 
   and day after day have sorrow in my heart? 
   How long will my enemy triumph over me?

 3 Look on me and answer, LORD my God. 
   Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death, 
4 and my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” 
   and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

 5 But I trust in your unfailing love; 
   my heart rejoices in your salvation. 
6 I will sing the LORD’s praise, 
   for he has been good to me.

Releasing happy tears

Coming home with your report card,         

You looked at me and said;

“I’ve tried my best but school’s so hard,

It’s doing in my head!”

.

I smiled and then I reassured you,

That I only want,

For your best shot in all you do,

I don’t expect savant!

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To see you learn the things that are,

An instinct for your peers,

Then do your best and try so hard,         

Just gives me happy tears.

.

It matters not what grade you get,

Or where you have been placed,

Nor if you are the teacher’s pet,

Because it’s not a race.

.

I love to watch you as you work,

And see your furrowed brow,

Your crooked wrist and little quirks,

That epitomise you somehow.

.

I never dreamed that life would be,    

This fast, full on or mad,

And filled with joy and ecstasy,

Though also sometimes sad.

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Your days seem longer than before,

There’s so much more to do,

It’s why you feel so drained I’m sure,

Keep going son…. because I’m proud of you…….

Why do I blog?

Whilst I primarily write about life with our autistic children, it is not all that I am.

Me in my "teen angst" years 🙂

Just as autism doesn’t define who my kids are….it also doesn’t define my role as a mother, a wife, a daughter and a friend.

As a teenager I wrote a lot of poetry. Most of it is no longer recorded anywhere as I burnt most of it in a ceremonial bonfire not long after I got married.

The memories that they held were just too painful so I wanted them gone.

Doing this is something that I often remember and regret.

(I bet you didn’t know any of this Mum!)

***

I have discovered a lot about myself since I started blogging.

I am able to work through things a lot quicker and more smoothly when I write out my thoughts, emotions and fears.

Someone asked me today why I blog. I thought about it and this poem just came to me.

*****

I write for the freedom of speaking my mind,

Expressing emotions and thoughts,

Uncovering my feelings – once left behind,

Sharing my story of sorts.

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I’ve never considered the prospect of being,

A slave to the rules of the pen,

I write as I live and I write what I’m seeing,

The way that it happens and when.

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I don’t care for lying and making up stuff,

It’s seems like a grand waste of time,

The truths that I share here should be just enough,

As the stories I tell are all mine.

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To be a known writer is not my real goal,

I just need to write for release,

For when I have written my thoughts I feel whole,

And the worries in my head will then cease.

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I know that when I start to bottle things up,

My emotions take over and then…

I start to lose focus and fire from the cuff,

So I’m sticking with the therapy of the pen…

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So……Why do YOU blog??