Poetry written at Autscape 2023

I only got home from Autscape at 5.15pm on Thursday. It was amazing. I learnt so much from the most amazing people. It was a wonderful experience, among autistic people being themselves. People wondered around in a variety of clothing, with or without shoes. They joyfully engaged in games and arguments. I cried so much, from being overwhelmed by everything. I met some lovely people, played a great ttrpg campaign, and learned to spin from Jo the Spinner.

I’m still exhausted, so this might be a bit disjointed.

I attended two writing workshops at Autscape this week. I wrote several poems in the process, met some poets and writers, and a few Discworld fans. I am not the only Autistic person who thinks Sir Terry was Autistic!

The first writing workshop I went to was ‘NeurodiVERSE’ with Kate Fox and Janine Booth. I have a copy of Fox’s The Oscillations, and Booth’s Autism Equality in the Workplace: Removing Barriers and Challenging Discrimination. I bought a copy of NeurodiVERSE which they co-edited, and another poetry book from Kate Fox.

The first prompt was: In an ideal world

In an ideal world…

  • We wouldn’t need Autscape
  • We wouldn’t need this oasis of Auties, away from everyone else
  • The food would be better

In an ideal world…

  • Trees would dominate the world and lights wouldn’t buzz and sting
  • And libraries would be fully funded

In an ideal world…

  • I wouldn’t feel lost and alone, or lessened by their disbelief
  • I wouldn’t feel anger at every ‘but you don’t look autistic’

In an ideal world

  • I’d be in a swimming pool all the time
  • Or a never-ending bookshop.

We followed this with writing a list of things we want to communicate in poetry and then write a poem about it. I eventually chose my love of fantasy special editions.

Special Edition #1

Grinning glee in a box

Folded in bubble wrap

A new treasure, just for me

Squealing glee

What will I find?

Shining covers protecting pictures, smooth under hands.

Colours and textures feeding me information in skin and eyes.

A new treasure, just for me.

Crack it open, hear the paper slide, the binding creak.

A new treasure, just for me.

Ink and paper, shade and weight – just right!

The heft, the tone, the contrast – Just right!

Feel it, see it, smell it.

Inhale. Imbibe. Take it all in before I read a word.

End papers rich in colours. Edges Sprayed. Gold foil, unique designs.

Special Editions.

I love them all. New treasures, just for me.

Special Editions #2

Touch

  • Embossed covers
  • Smooth plastic
  • Rough paper
  • Weight in my hands
  • Weight on my fingers

Smell

  • New paper
  • Ink
  • Brown
  • The smell-taste of a newly opened special edition
  • Breathing in the microscopic particles of ink, cellulose, air from another place.

Sight

  • Rainbow paintings
  • Little pieces of art
  • Vibrant colours highlighted in gold
  • A story told before a word is read.
  • Sprayed edges and end papers – hints and chapters untold

Hearing

  • Blue glide on fingers ocver pritective plastic
  • Creak and crack of new books opening
  • Sandpaper slide and shift of page on page.

Taste

  • The taste-smell of a newly-opened special edition.
  • Breathing in microscopic particles of ink, cellulose, air taking me away to another place.

The second workshop was based on the Writing East Midlands Beyond the Spectrum creative writing workshops. It was meant to be run by Pippa Hennessy, but she wasn’t well and her wife Rachel (I’ve probably got her name wrong – she’s a lecturer at one of the universities on Nottingham) ran the workshop instead. In 2020 I interviewed for a shadow writer job on the Beyond the Spectrum project. I didn’t get it, obviously. However, I learnt some useful information from both the workshop on Wednesday and the discussion on Thursday. I’m running a weekly writing workshop at Neurospace in October to December for Faraway, and it turns out the Beyond the Spectrum are trying to find funding for a three-year project, rolled out across the country, and partner organisations to host the workshops. There might be a chance for us to work together in future.

Pippa and Rachel are lovely people.

The first poem I wrote had the prompt:

The best thing about being Autistic.

The best thing about being Autistic is my brain’s ability to make unexpected, often entertaining, and sometimes very weird connections between seemingly unconnected concepts, ideas, and events.
The best thing about being Autistic is monotropic flow – learning all the things – and monologuing – sharing all the things!
The best thing about being Autistic is knowing myself better, understanding how I process.
The best thing about being Autistic is hearing the birds sing, even when there’s traffic; smelling the changes in the weather; spotting the unexpected wildlife; touching the wind; tasting the sea on the air.
The best thing about being Autistic is senses that take in everything – when I’m out in nature.

The second exercise involved writing a list of things that bring me joy, then choose one to write notes about, describing it. Then we had to think about two people who don’t get it and write down what they might say. Finally, I had to write a poem or prose that will help people understand.

I chose the potato, because I’ve just harvested the first potaotes from the allotment.

Ode to the humble spud

Trodden into the dark, cold, wet earth, a mucky old spud.

Buried under layer after layer as leaves of emerald sprout, uncurl from the sodden clay. Only to disappear again.

Still you keep in growing, you, the seed potato, who in time becomes a multitude, seeding, growing, accidentally left in the ground.

Starch hoarded to feed the plants until sunlight and warmth return. Going mushy, rotting when you’re used up all your stores.

Don’t put a fork through it!

Leaves sprout and spread, stems lengthen and slouch against each other in ranks and squares

(And in the stack of tyres, because we had to use them for something).

Forgotten brethren appearing unexpected among the peas and sweetcorn. And the flower beds.

Roots swelling as flowers like stars bloom against a field-sky.

New potatoes from mud and a mucky old spud.

Some people were kind enough to say they enjoyed my poems when I read them out. I put a certain intonation into my reading, so it’s possible they found that entertaining rather than the actual work.

I hope you enjoyed them.

Poem: I should have known

I should have realised
Long ago
There’s something a little off 
About me.

Everyone knew how
To act
To react
To interact
Inate instructions calling time
Picking up the rules and the rhyme.

No one told me the rules of the game
Or even that we were playing, with
No choice but to play.

I learnt the rules, or a strange
Version thereof from
Books.

Because nobody bothered to sit down
And explain the rules of the game, or
that I had to play.

So when i say or do
The wrong thing, try remembering
You knew the rules, how to act, interact, react,
And I’m still learning with every book I read.

 

 

I wrote a poem last night, it’s had some compliments from a number of people. I’m quite pleased with the metaphor and hopefully it gets the message across.

NaNoWriMo 2016 has begun

And I’m not doing it this year. I want to focus on finishing my novel and editing the first two if I get the chance, plus I’m helping a friend by editing her novel and I have that MA to study for.

However, as a treat I’ve written a poem. I came up with this one early this morning, blame lack of sleep if it’s terrible.

I have questions, by Rosemarie Cawkwell

I have questions, about the universe mainly.
I’ve always wanted to know, but no one will tell me,
If the universe is expanding, what is it expanding in to?
If I stood on the bow wave of spacetime, what would I see?
Anything? Nothing?
The Void?
What is the Void, Nothingness, Infinity?
If I stood in the Void, which isn’t possible,
I know,
And looked back at our Universe, what would I see?
A perfect sphere, uniform,
A ball of spacetime rolling through the Void,
Or a splat spreading out at different rates.
Would I see other universes rolling through the Void?
Bumping in to ours as both expand?
I have so many questions, and nobody will answer them for me.

 

 

I actually have spent at least two decades trying to work out what the universe is expanding in to and I’ve yet to get an answer from anyone. I’m reading a book at the minute called ‘The Substance of Spacetime’ (I’ll be reviewing it next week, possibly, depends on how busy I get) and I still haven’t got my answers.

Good luck to everyone doing NaNoWriMo this year, I know that some of my fellow MA students are also taking on the challenge whilst studying and I wish them all the best.