#Dyslexic Poet

[thesorcererpoet]

Encouragement

The biggest reason I am so enamoured with tumblr is that it’s such a supportive place to share your creations. While some work on here is indeed impressive, I love it that we all just share and support each other to grow, no matter what skill level we are at.

I have been writing since I was a child on and off, and it’s something that is deeply important to me, but honestly, my work got so much better when I first did a blog on here some years ago. I think a big part of the reason is because of that encouragement. You also get to know what others enjoy. You can literally see when you’ve written something good and it’s often surprising what it is that others like. Sometimes it’s even work that I wasn’t so sure of myself that others were drawn to.

As a challenge to myself, for several months I decided I was going to write every single day. I was so inspired by what I saw here that I was never short of inspiration. It was like somehow we are all in collaboration, adding our words to the conversation. That conversation with the world, with ourselves and each other is the important thing. It makes me want to think and to create.

Being in that writing habit, that’s the key to your growth. Just read, and push yourself to write. Find inspiration in the writers around you that you love. Read poetry, see how it all fits together, how it feels, how the rhythm flows, where it rhymes and half rhymes, where words sound comfortable together, where they clash deliberately and keep going!

May your writing journey bring you much joy!

P.S. I am dyslexic and dyspraxic. Don’t let anybody tell you learning difficulties have to be a barrier to your joy, they don’t.

[peskypoetry]

When You Feel Like Giving Up

In those moments when the weight of the world seems unbearable, remember, there's always someone ready to share the load. 🌟 Pesky Poet's latest piece reminds us that a simple walk, a shared silence, or just being together can make all the difference. Reach out, and let's walk through it together. #YouAreNotAlone #SupportEachOther

When you feel like giving up,And you just don’t give a fuck,Just look up my number.***You don’t have to talk,We could just go walk,And I’ll be with you.***If you just put me on ramble,I can talk and you can mumble,While saying very little.***So if you need to vent,Or just to hear my end,Call and I’ll be with you. 🚀 Spread the Joy! Sharing a poem can brighten a poet’s world. Let’s light up the…

[very-gay-poet]

This was supposed to be about my fanfic and what themes I wanted to portray but I may have ranted a little lmao (this was written by someone who is late diagnosed)

the only kids at Hogwarts that are diagnosed as neurodivergent/disabled are those who were raised/have close ties to the muggle world so there's tons of kids who just don't know that there's people like them and they aren't a freak/stupid/weird/lazy their brains just operate differently.

Ron having dyslexia but not knowing it/ being undiagnosed while Hermione and Harry are diagnosed with their respective neurodivergence, used to show the difference on how a child who is undiagnosed views themselves and the importance of diagnosing your child if you suspect/ reminding children that they're allowed to talk about things they struggle with and that they should be treated with seriousness when they open up about it, and it not being seen as a "downside", a "weakness" as well as not being seen as a "super power" or that you're "special" (while that can be encouraging to younger kids it needs to be reminded that their disability can disable them and they're not wrong/a burden for asking for help/assistance and shouldn't be expected to never have bad days especially with people with chronic illness where mobility aids are involved and being interchangeable for some people (needing a wheelchair one day but a cane the next). The message being; you are allowed to have some sort of aid, you are allowed to ask for help help, and you sure as hell shouldn't apologize for simply existing in another's space. You are allowed to be there like anyone else.)

[bigdumbbambieyes]

part 3 of poet!billy & dyslexic!steve

part 2

——

it’s a stupid argument. petty, even.

still, it sours steve’s mood and the evening that was supposed to be filled with movies and cuddling turned into another lonely night after he told billy to get out of his house.

he avoids the blond the next day at school, even though he can feel those blue eyes burning into the back of his head in class and the side of his face during lunch.

billy doesn’t try to talk to him, though. which makes steve feel disappointed and then annoyed at himself for being disappointed. of course billy wouldn’t be eager to talk to him after last night, why would he? steve was a bad boyfriend. always had been, and apparently always will be.

he’s so busy attending his own pity party that he doesn’t see the person leaning against his car in the lot, not until he’s only a few feet away and he looks up from the ground to see billy looking at him with a pinched expression.

“uh,” steve says dumbly, “hi…”

billy doesn’t say anything, just holds out his hand, where a folded paper is pinched between his fingers. they’re trembling a little when steve takes it from him.

he eyes billy for a moment, who’s shifting his weight between his feet and staring over towards the middle school, clearly waiting for steve to read the note and pretending to look for max.

with a mildly annoyed huff, he unfolds the scrap paper and smoothes the wrinkles away, reading over the black ink quickly. too quickly, because he has to start over a couple times and take a calming breath when his frustration mounts.

you’re a firestarter

the match to my desire

igniting the hope

that you won’t snuff me out

when my anger stokes yours

well. fuck. steve looks up and sees billy staring back at him, looking uncomfortable and maybe upset but also not. it’s hard to read him sometimes.

but, not always. “is this about last night?” he asks quietly, watching billy twist his mouth and look away, giving the smallest nod imaginable.

a soft sigh leaves steve as his shoulders drop, all anger leaving him as he steps closer to the blond, who’s staring at him through his thick eyelashes.

“let’s just forget about last night, hm?” steve murmurs, “we were both being assholes and, don’t worry, a stupid little argument isn’t going to, like…make me not want to see you again. that would be stupid.”

billy considers it, quietly, until he tilts his head a little and eyes the pocket of steve’s polo, “yeah. yeah, i’d like that. i…” his brows furrow and he looks into steve’s eyes again, that familiar fire once again behind them as he mutters, “i’m not great at apologies and shit, either. so. yeah.”

steve smiles, something knowing and soft, and it’s enough to make billy give a small one of his own - a twitch at the corner of his mouth as they stare at each other.

“c’mon,” billy finally murmurs, “let’s go for a drive.”

“if i’m good, will you read me this yourself?” steve grins as he waves the poem between them, which billy quickly snatches out of his fingers and gives him a playful look.

“if you’re very good, sure,” billy hums, tucking it into the pocket of his denim jacket, “now let’s go, pretty boy.”

steve is good. very good. and the sound of billy’s poetry is so much sweeter when it falls from his mouth between breathy sighs and quiet moans.

part 4

[sun-dipped-quill]

Dyslexic

I have dyslexia which really kinda sucks. which really kind of sucks

especially whenever I to try reaparagra..(remember deep breaths)

I have dyslexia… (wrong line)

whenever I try to read or write a single paragraph

so it’s funny that a poet…. (Okay let’s try from the top)

I have dyslexia, which really kinda sucks. Especially so, when I try to read or write a single paragraph, so it’s funny that I ended up a poet.

[writing-blind22]

From a different world...

I am off this world but I do not feel at home here, I wish I wasn't here, I wish I was somewhere else, I see things that aren't here, that are from a different world, I want to go join them...

[humanconditionpoetry]

A Poem Request

Hello Everyone, I hope this post finds you well!

I have had this poem on my blog for quite a while now, however, someone asked if I could put in plain front. So, Here is the poem in plain front for anybody who wishes to read it and it should be more neurodivergent and Dyslexic friendly!

That said....

This is a little bit of a more mature theme in this poem as it is deals with death/maybe suicide(can be interrupted that way), so that is a trigger warning for you all! Read at your own discretion!

Again, T.W for death and possible suicide interpretation.

[mayaswiterblog]

Memory

This poem was originally posted on Wattpad on 11 July 2015.

I never remembered texts Nor I do nowadays and now The pictures, moves, Colours and rooms All of them I remember clear The posters, the films The appearance of my friends But words and songs I cannot recall without fail I may remember the way How the song goes But how the sentence forms I have no clue, And I muss up the words No speech, no talk Only pictures and eyes

[magicalflowernerd00]

I love sketching, photography and poetry. Summer is arriving in the Uk and I have wrote some new lines 🖊️🌞✨

I have dyslexia and Autism. I will adjust and correct some lines but I just wanted to be so positive with a stressful day and celebrate the return on the sunbeams that highlight the happiness within 🌻🌞☀️ what’s your thoughts on the summer season ( I do like autumn ultimately)

Lou 🥀

[xxstrawberryfeelsxx]

[ericmoonly]

i wanna write poems so bad but im not really good at writing and im dyslexic (my dyslexia is just bad af..) so i dont think its a really good idea.. i mean i wrote like two kinda short poems, but i needed to check everything on internet if i wrote it right and its kinda idk not very poet style?😧

also connor holding plushie connor is so adorable fr.

[crunchy-soup222]

Rant about Neil Perry's d*ath in DPS... **Tw suicide

In

3,

2,

1.

Okay, bear with me for this...

Because I am fully aware that Neil and Todd weren't canon no matter how delusional I am... they totally were in love right? But I always see posts on here like "what was Neil thinking?" and "did he even stop to think about how this would affect Todd and the others and blahblahblah" and honestly, that is the point. That is what makes his death so tragic. It is very common for suicide to be viewed as selfish but in that moment you aren't thinking about other people, you're thinking how how much of a burden you are, how much better off everyone else would be without you... (In my personal experience ik that's not the case for everyone)

But in the case of Neil Perry I think he was 100% thinking about the others...

For a moment, let's just hypothetically say that Neil (or both Neil and Todd) had feelings for each other that they never admitted or fully realized. Realistically the two only knew each other for a semester, like four months tops. It would be that painful yet giddy double edged sword of having a crush on your roommate/best friend and not knowing if they reciprocate said feelings back.

The longing looks, the side glances, the butterflies and inside jokes.... The whole shebang!

Soo theoretically speaking... the night of the play when Neil took one last look at Todd/the other Poets from his father's car. Looking out of the window symbolism that I don't want to get into rn but can't stop thinking about He lost all hope. He was being sent away from Welton. He would have been forced to go to military school.

His father would never let him act again- imagine what he would do if he found out Neil had feelings for a boy. It would end badly.

Neil thought he was never going to be able to act or go back to school. In his mind he would never be able to see Todd or the other Poets ever again. And maybe, just maybe that was part of his thoughts before he did it, you know.

The prospect of being ripped away from his friends and love and passion was too much for him to bear and that's why he did it.

Anyways I'm sad now, sorry for that rant.

[peskypoetry]

Dyslexia Is A Blessing Not A Curse

"Feel the life beyond the verse." 🌱 Pesky Poet's new work offers an uplifting view on the gifts of dyslexia. It's about more than the challenges; it's the rich, alternative understanding of language and life it provides. Let's celebrate the depth and diversity of learning differently. #BeyondWords #DyslexiaBlessing

Dyslexia has been a blessing not a curse.It has made me infinitely better not worse.I see the world beyond the words.And feel the life beyond the verse.My language skills are not reversed.And although my spellings look diverse.My knowledge of the language is not inverse. 🚀 Spread the Joy! Sharing a poem can brighten a poet’s world. Let’s light up the poetic universe! ✨ Share this page on…

[k41tlyn8487]

Plz plz can people interact with

Becuase im so badly shadow banned i have gotten no interaction in 42 days 😭😭😭 and yet on this account my post from ten months ago is still getting likes bro

[bigdumbbambieyes]

part 5 of poet!billy & dyslexic!steve

for my bub @hephaestn , who is always so so supportive of my poet!Billy-verse and is the loveliest person, I’m beyond grateful to call you my friend 🤍

part one

~

billy,

i want you to kiss me until you’re sick of it

steve frowns at the line, furrowing his brows as he taps the pencil’s eraser against his notebook.

how does billy do it?

“okay,” steve sighs to himself as he sets his pencil down in favour of rubbing his eyes, “just…make one more and maybe it’ll get things rolling.”

picking up the pencil again, steve moves to write, pauses, presses the pencil lead down onto the paper, pauses, and then huffs.

“don’t be fucking stupid right now,” he mutters to himself again, feeling his frustration mounting the longer he stares down at the paper and the single line.

it begins to change in front of him, letters switching and words looking wrong. his dyslexia gets worse the more frustrated he becomes - like the sentence changes with every blink and when he tries to read it again, the meaning is lost.

he pushes the notebook away with a tiny growl of frustration, the pencil tossed along with it, and steve buries his head in his hands.

he gives up. billy’s much better equipped to write love poems, anyway. what the fuck was he even thinking? trying to write a stupid poem for the guy who wrote from his heart every time?

wiping at unshed tears, steve pushes himself up from his desk and forgets all about the notebook.

~

a week passes and steve receives two more poems. they’re both perfect - filled with sweet yearning and sappy, syrupy love.

steve’s putting them in the shoebox under his bed when he hears billy ask, “what’s this?” from his desk.

“what’s what?” he asks in return as he slips the poems into the money clip. when he receives no response, he looks over his shoulder at billy and sees his boyfriend leaning against the desk, notebook in hand.

the same notebook that holds his failed poem.

steve scrambles up from his spot and rushes over, reaching out to snatch the stupid thing from billy, but the blond is quick - too fucking quick - and holds it behind him while his other hand is placed on steve’s chest, holding him back.

the expression on billy’s face is a multitude. surprised, mostly. like he hadn’t expected steve to charge at him the way he did, but he’d been bracing for the impact.

like a reflex.

steve feels immediate guilt.

“fuck - i’m sorry,” he sighs with a frown, taking a small step back to give billy some room, “i...i just want the notebook, billy. please.”

billy doesn’t say anything, just lowers his hand and brings the notebook back in front of him, brows pinched. he looks down at the notebook again and steve clenches his hands into fists to fight back the urge to yank it away.

“is this…?” billy starts.

steve shakes his head hard, urges, “it’s nothing.”

“nothing?” billy balks, blue eyes looking up at him again with that familiar anger. that anger which sits in billy’s chest like embers in a fire, flaring as he says, “steve - it’s not nothing when it’s fucking addressed to me and sounding like a poem.”

and steve frowns, because okay, yeah. he has a point. “i…i attempted a poem,” he admits after a pause, his mouth twisting as he opens up, “i tried and failed, and i was gonna throw it away but i forgot about it so…yeah.”

the anger simmering under billy’s skin must go still, because the tightness around his eyes softens as he looks down at the lined paper again. he shifts his weight between his feet, mumbles, “why did you want to write me a poem, anyway?”

he must be stupid. he must be dumb.

steve blinks, opens his mouth, but just lets his jaw drop in disbelief. “you’re kidding, right?” he finally asks before stepping closer to billy, until they’re inches apart and the notebook is caught between them.

billy looks up at him, slowly, from where he’s leaning against the desk. steve tries to read him, tries to read the blue of his eyes and the dots of his freckles. and in those, he finds hope.

strength.

“i,” he begins, swipes his tongue over his dry lips, “you write me poems, billy. and they make me feel so. much. i…i didn’t think feeling the way i do about you was possible. and no matter how many kisses i give you, or whatever little gifts i buy, it doesn’t seem enough.”

it hits him then, almost like a kitchen plate. makes his heart ache in his chest as he realizes and whispers, “i want to be enough for you, billy.”

and billy’s got tears in his eyes, as usual. as always. but steve knows they’re not sad.

at least, he hopes they aren’t.

“you are,” billy murmurs, his voice as shaky as the tears dancing on his waterline as he tries to keep himself together, “steve—you know you are.”

so he whispers back, “then why don’t i feel like it?”

billy sets the notebook down behind him and pulls steve into the tightest hug he’s ever felt. and billy’s strong - his arms and shoulders are muscled, and it almost hurts from how tightly the blond clings to him.

but, steve’s quick to wrap his arms around billy, too. holds him close, lets his boyfriend hide away in the space between his neck and shoulder. he feels the tears on his collarbone soak through his shirt.

they’re quiet for a long time, standing there and holding on another. neither of them want to pull away, finding comfort in the heat of their embrace and the steady beating of their hearts.

against his skin, billy mutters, “why don’t we do it together?”

the poem. billy wants to finish it together.

steve feels that familiar lump in his throat, the burn in his eyes from tears that will go unshed. billy’s helped him before, when he’d propped himself up in bed and read steve’s english lit book out loud to him. steve had put his head in billy’s lap and listened quietly the entire time. no one had ever done anything like that for him before.

he loves billy. absolutely adores him. he has no reason to doubt him when billy assures him that yes, steve, you are enough.

it’ll take time to believe it, but steve’s patient.

“okay,” he nods, sliding his hands up billy’s arms, gently pushing until billy pulls back and wipes at his wet face, like the tears hadn’t happened.

billy grabs the notebook and the pencil and takes it to the bed. sitting himself down, he beckons steve over with a tiny smile, “c’mon.”

steve doesn’t need to be told twice.

~

billy,

i want you to kiss me until you’re sick of it

hold me until i’ve sighed my last breath

and please keep loving me until i feel like i’m

enough

part 6

[authenticrottengirls]

There's something wrong about me, something twisted up, something that draws in bad people.

That sick, broken part of me reaches out her hand, eyes swirling brain fogey and beags for their approval.