Paper Friends

by Austin McClendon

Would you step over here and ease on through, open your hearts, and then your eyes? 

We are Paper Friends 

Would you let me open a world of wonder to you

and plow light through?

Allowing words to show you

what a paper world so simple and complete,

has done for Timothy.

Beside a boy and his family the love begins unspoken, 

a bond of open emotions, 

with a love poured out of devotion. 

When we share our words 

often unheard 

our deeper emotions 

can create waves of love that would fill the oceans.

We began celebrating writing our stories. 

Our words began to paint the scene. 

We opened them up and began to peruse, 

onward and through. 

Would you look at me? 

Upside down below the tree

with my words no longer hiding inside of me. 

With pages open that you can read, 

writing as others speak. 

Able to share.

Would you begin, 

bringing a wish and your grin, 

walk on over and step on in. 

Opening a journey of boys and girls 

traveling through our paper world. 

We have our stories here for you. 

Would you walk with me to the tree, 

the one you can barely see, 

blending into the scene. 

Watching books unfold 

wanting his stories told. 

Writing boys and girls a beautiful new world. 

Paper, pens, worlds and gems,

Come on in. 

We could escape the pages 

and travel for ages. 

We should probably start 

with the looking part. 

Would you open your eyes wide 

and empty your mind, 

allowing these words to be opening verse, 

of our world on paper?

On open wishes, promises, and sight, 

I bring to you a paper delight. 

Our world has been brought to you by paper, pens 

and our words within. 

_____________________

*Note to my readers,

Because I have autism words are hidden inside of me but they found a way out years ago. Books and stories are still working on their turn. 

Paper Friends is what I call people like me. We have so much stored inside to share but escaping is a time consuming process. Lots of ebb and flow allowing me to create and develop open thoughts takes place but the reward is something I can share with others. 

Books can be written and I am writing them. One I have been writing has a poem about Paper Friends in it. Celebrating autism month I would like to share it with you. 

World of Boys

Books of worlds, worlds of books, boys and girls our story begins with 

World of Boys

World of boys plopping around 

Brows of boldness borrowing ground

There are bright new beginnings

when you open a book

Beneath the tree 

that’s oft overlooked 

Good books are quite the find

Unless looking for one around borrowed time 

Beneath boredom and trees you’ve climbed

Are stories of mine 

When a portal is opened work becomes bright 

Opening up worlds and this boy’s life 

Looking to see 

but writing to speak 

A world of books sitting around

courageously waiting to be bound

Creative boy you are winning!

Where should I start? 

I guess  the beginning   

World of boys upside down

Writing to say there’s a book on the ground 

We can open it up, looking to read,

or I could climb that gigantic tree

and hang with you from my feet.

While in his head he clearly said

the words you just read.  But he couldn’t speak,

so all they heard was “eee eee eee”.

He escaped beneath that enormous tree

and opened the book he hoped to read.

But when he opened up the book

He looked and looked but could not believe,

there was nothing there,nothing to see.

Brown covers with white pages simply 

Free of words, completely empty.

So he picked that book up, and with the pen he took up,

he began to write.

On open wishes, promises and sight, 

I leave this book lost and bright 

and preparing, quite possibly, a story to write.

Please be patient with me

I’m looking for insight.

When I return quietly words will reveal

a boy, a purpose, and a gift that’s real. 

When he returned to the tree

Would you believe

Boy looked down 

and on the ground 

Beneath the leaves 

Below that tree

Last seen when he was four foot three

Was the book 

lost and incomplete

Lying at his feet

Weathered by both storms and life

Boy took his pen and began to write.

To Milo

Will you open the words with written worlds

Of boys and girls?

With a look inside a book

Your wonder will be carried away.

So that one day,

When your hair is gray,

When the children say

“Will you please tell me

A wonderful story”,

Their words will remind you of worlds of magical,

Upside down and theatrical

Times you had with Hagrid

And a boy who was gifted with magic.

And you will remember what it was

To be filled with love,

And that books were enough

Until that time when you snuggled

Words not uttered from a Muggle!

But a story was told

By a Poppa who was bold,

And as you rested your head

Those words he said

Would open your eyes

To a whole new life.

And in that moment you would realize

The gift inside a man so wise

That should be shared

With those who care.

And you will begin

Telling stories, like him.

Love,

Uncle Austin

I wrote this poem for my nephew Milo last Christmas. I especially love him and his love for books is something I share with him. Who doesn’t love a good story?

When he was younger I remember the first time he heard a bedtime story from his Poppa. Wonder and excitement lit his voice opening his mind to a special gift we will all pass along .

Writing My Sister

With all my heart, written with

An open wish

Of love and happiness

To my sis.

You are the warmth of promise brightly lit

With words of writing your expressive gift.

When I think of you, I see

So much personality

Dressed with charm and intelligence.

Your witty words, with engaging quips,

Keep me listening for the next twist.

With this final thought:

I simply love you, a lot.

-Austin

Writing My Brother

Cole:
Writing you, brother.
Would you borrow tomorrow
And become worlds away?
Or fill today
With these words I’m about to say?
What we have
Isn’t just a mom and dad,
We have brother
Love for one another.
With all my memories
Shiny and glimmering
With value and respect,
I would like to collect
And never forget
The moments we’ve shared,
All the times you’ve cared.
But when brothers would write with
Words to reminisce,
We can never wonder. Did I ever say this?
I love you.
Written so it’s never expired,
Wondered, or born of necessity.
Written from me,
Wondering
boyishly,
Well, could it possibly be
That you and me
Are the best part
of a family?
Love abruptly.
These words are because
I know you can’t get enough of me.

Your brother,
Austin

Sleeping Giant

We were a family, with all but my brothers Jack and Cole, hiking a mountain in Kauai called Sleeping Giant. When I heard we were going to hike, all of us, even me, I was so excited. But then I was wondering if I would become too exhausted, borrowing strength where there was none. Writing about this now, I realize that’s exactly what I did. We walked up a mountain and we pushed ourselves. Would we make it to the top? Would I make it to the top?

I always wondered why people would want to climb a mountain. I wasn’t sure this was something I could do. I had hiked before but not like this. We had wonderful short hikes and great times with those. One time, though, I became very exhausted, which I still vividly remembered. Would this hike be like that? 

When we discussed this trail I was told that I could stop at any time to rest or to wait for everyone else to complete the hike, at any place, whenever I wanted. Encouragement was offered but I was also given realistic descriptions about this mountain, so I wouldn’t feel this was something that I had to do, but could choose to do. Because the power often is not there for me like it is for others, that gave me so much confidence.

With our snacks and Camelbacks full of water, we positioned ourselves at the trailhead. We began briskly walking up the mountain, winding back and forth with a steep incline through the trees. The path was often boldly mocking me, a blind man, trying to navigate with one hand on my hiking pole and the other on my dad’s shoulder. Walking, tripping, and falling into my dad, each step I took was a victory. My hiking pole was extra security. It allowed me to ask questions and get answers, which helped to ease my worries, while I put my trust in my dad to keep me safe. He and my mom did their best, but I did fall off the trail twice. We were all learning each step I took. 

Looking around would not help me in this unfamiliar and unpredictable environment. While walking, bright and wonderful things will pop into my limited sight, causing disabling distraction and confusion for me. But when I’m in a familiar place I can make sense of those things. While everyone else enjoyed the views, the beauty found on this mountain was perspective for me. I would like to see what they saw but I don’t lack beauty from my experience. Borrowing strength through worth, love, and words of praise, I was able to walk on with my dad. The cool breezes, warm sunlight, and occasional rain were welcomed variations while I clumsily worked my way to the top. We walked until we came to an opening. 

I was told there was an obstacle. We stopped and discussed what would be the best way for me to climb this solid ten-foot rock wall. Looking around I saw bright possibilities. Looking ahead I felt a cold, hard, rock wall. An impenetrable wall. Walls are meant to keep things out but this wall was not built by man. This wall was God’s, and we were going to climb it. 

When I touched the rock wall, wondering what it smelled like, I brought my hand to my nose. It smelled like dirt but felt like a challenge. But what was probably unusual about that brief moment was my desire to take on that challenge so quickly that others were caught by surprise and asked me to slow down. It felt like something I already believed I could do. I placed my hands where I could secure my grip, working my way up through touch, while my dad guided with directions and each foot placement. We made it to the top of that wall, where I sat a few feet away and rested while taking in the wonder of my accomplishment. As I sat people who had so patiently waited began to pass by me. They were so kind with their words of praise. One guy even said I was “badass”, which was possibly more memorable than anything I have ever been told before. Looking around, loud and clear, I saw a future for me and two more miles to the top of Sleeping Giant. 

When I brought writing words for communication into my life, well, people started to understand that words were just hidden behind lips that wouldn’t express. But because my writing could be slow, musings would often be left without any opportunity to ask or discuss questions I had. “Blood is thicker than water”, for example. What? Well, being the inquisitive wordless person that I am, I tried to understand what this might mean. I now know, bright as the sun in my eyes, that it’s a love like we only feel from our family. Whether we share blood or would otherwise not know each other, though, does not seem to be as important as the saying would lead you to believe. Sometimes words coming from strangers can feel like the love of a brother, when they become words spoken out of a bond created, in a moment of respect, for who I am. I would find my strength begin to increase in moments like this. Bringing worth to me beyond what my family expresses, I know they love me, but this was a beautiful gift when strangers saw me as an abled human and shared a bit of love. I am wondering, would they be as kind, would they be as proud, had they known me as a child? Would they love the words I write? Would they realize how much their words would strengthen me?

We did make it to the top. We sat at a table enjoying a snack, water, and the love of a family sharing this incredible mountain. I pushed with all my strength up that rock wall. I realized later that this was the first time I’d been able to pursue a goal and complete it in one day. We climbed portraying what challenge was for each of us. The Sleeping Giant of Kauai may still be resting, but the Giant lives awakened inside of me. 

Christmas List

Would we blindly trust,

With someone we love,

To bring us up

Looking with bliss

To the one true gift?

This Christmas

We can wish and wish

For beginnings and lists,

But will we believe,

Look, and receive

The one gift

not found under the tree?

I plan to see,

beginning with this:

We are all promised words of love,

The one true gift

who is God above.

I will begin this,

Without any wish or lists,

With our love and His wish.

We are worthy because we are His.

I just wanted to tell you, when you ask for my list,

It’s short

and it reads like this:

There are people who we need to feed.

They don’t have homes like you and me.

They are brothers and sisters,

Wives and misters.

We can give them socks

to heal their blisters.

But every day they pray.

We don’t know the words they say

Because we haven’t listened.

With you and me

They can receive

a gift with our wishes brought from their lists.

And people can see

Love not found

under a tree

When we care

for the least of these.

This is my list,

and I wish you all a Merry Christmas .

Words

Treasure starts inside the heart.

But words have never lost their part!

Would you come and see?

Help free words residing inside of me?

Woken with writing, my special gift.

How could words have weariness?

Would words wander?

Would they wish?

Could they escape with unbroken lips?

Words written won’t be missed.

Words won’t always bring happiness,

But words whether spoken or well writ

Should always be handled like God’s gift,

Used for worthy worldy blisss

And delivered like a mother’s kiss.

Looking words in the mouth,

We could write or we could talk.

Would we upend or mend?

We can choose the words we use.

But while treasure starts inside the heart,

Words have never lost their part.

Bee Free

Bees move like lightning

Filling up the sky

Having little friends

Fluttering lovingly up high

Moving, buzzing, gliding

Being beautiful like queens

Rushing, chasing, spying

Going where they please

If near, quick, start to run

Bolt, run, rush

Hovering wildly in the sun

Boldly Grasping Art

Hi serious art lovers,

Art borrows portraits from life and lets us create our own representation while pursuing a love of learning something new. Before I asked to learn to draw a lot of people wondered what I saw. Art is first a way for me to express myself without words, but also passes on bold answers, to questions about what I see. Adriana patiently has taught me how to get what I see on paper.

I probably will wonder all my life what is so different about what I see, but art accepts what our perceptions are, and embraces them as opportunity. Our world is a much brighter place with art.

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