Hello and welcome to the first Showcase of April. My name is Peter Roe and I’m a poet, writer, lead editor and director of The Jawbone Collective CIC. We are a small press poetry publisher, workshop and events organiser based in Dorset.

I am thrilled to be guest editor of Showcase during National Poetry Month and look forward to seeing your submissions on the theme of ‘Misunderstandings’.

I will start this first Showcase with one of my own poems. I shared this poem at a panel session about ASD and Creativity at The Woodford Folk Festival in Australia. Just reading it seemed to give the autistic creatives in the room ‘permission’ to engage in the conversation.

Performance

My life is a constant
looking over my shoulder
observing…
analysing…
questioning…

• Have I said the right thing?
• Am I doing the right thing?
• Is this appropriate?
• Is this necessary?
• Should I, or should I not?
• Will this be misinterpreted?
• Am I overthinking this?

Because for this Neurodivergent performer
who has spent his life
putting on masks
to fit into a Neurotypical world
This platform
is the one place
where I know the rules
In this place my role…
and yours…
is determined by this microphone
this stage
these seats
So for five minutes
I can just be me
the calm in the eye of the chaos
of a fast moving society
Then later
when I am awake in bed
replaying the day in my head
The inner critic
reviews the days performance

• Was that appropriate?
• Did you say the right thing?
• Were you good enough?

 

(c) Peter Roe, 2023

Connect with Peter on Instagram and BlueSky: @mediachap

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In a letter Keats sent to Richard Woodhouse in 1818, he described poets as chameleons who take on the identity of others. In fact, he suggested that, in a room of many, he would be annihilated by the press of personalities. It’s a common misunderstanding that people who are autistic are lacking in empathy. I believe the opposite is true; at least from where I am standing, and find myself identifying with Keats – so much so, I wrote a poem titled iAmb a Chameleon which I will  share later in the month. In the meantime, I bring you Lunchtime Rainbows, a short story by Lynda Shepherd.

Lunchtime Rainbows

“All right, Billy?”

“It’s raining again, Miss!”

It was the third wet lunchtime this week. Some of the class were colouring in pictures of animals. One small group were building a tower of wooden blocks, before taking turns trying to remove one without the tower falling down and another were watching internet videos.

“Billy, don’t you want to join in?”

“No, Miss, I built a tower yesterday.”

“Are you enjoying your new reading books?”

“I finished one last night, Miss.”

“That’s good, what was it about?”

“There’s this, like, a professor who’s invented a machine that makes rainbows.”

“Sounds amazing, Billy.”

“It was, Miss.”

“So what happened?”

“The professor tried to charge all the villagers to see his marvellous rainbows.”

“He doesn’t sound very nice.”

“He’s not, Miss. He argues with the zoo owner, who lives next door.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Miss. They are so busy arguing, they don’t notice little Lenny lizard crawling into the rainbow machine.”

“Oh dear, Billy. Was Lenny OK?”

“Well, kind of, Miss, but it’s a bit scary to begin with. Do you want to know what happened?”

“I think so, Billy.”

“The rainbow machine starts making lots of noise and smoke, Miss, and it spits Lenny out. The zoo owner, Mr Dodson, rushes over but can’t see where Lenny lands. He’s really worried.”

“Does the professor help him?”

“The professor stomps off to get some tools to fix his machine.”

“He doesn’t try and help his neighbour?”

“No, Miss. Mr Dodson opens a window to get rid of the smoke but still can’t find Lenny. It’s only when he leans on a giant plant pot to try and stand up after searching all over the floor, he hears Lenny scream.”

“Was it the machine, Billy?”

Billy shook his head, “No, Miss. The effects of the machine meant he could now change colour to blend in with his surroundings. Lenny screamed because Mr Dodson had leant on his tail.”

“Oh, poor Lenny and Mr Dodson.”

“It’s OK, Miss.”

“Oh, how so, Billy?”

“The professor wasn’t able to make his machine work again, so he wasn’t able to be such a greedy guts, making money out of his neighbours.”

I couldn’t help smiling at his words.

“But that isn’t even the best bit!”

“It isn’t?”

“Now Lenny’s able to protect himself from bigger animals, Mr Dodson doesn’t have to worry about him getting into trouble so much and maybe one day there might be more lizards just like him.”

“That’s a lovely ending, Billy.”

“It is, Miss.” Billy frowned.

“Why are you sad, Billy? Lenny was all right.”

“It’s not that, Miss. Wouldn’t it be great if lizards could change colour in real life? Then we could try and spot them when we visit the zoo next week.”

“Billy, they do.”

“They do?!” Billy bounced up and down.

“They’re called chameleons. I don’t know if they have any at our local zoo, but I could help you find out more about them.”

“That would be, like, really cool, Miss.”

Billy stood fidgeting with his shirt sleeves as the sun finally reappeared and sunlight began streaming in through the classroom windows.

“Have you got a question, Billy?”

“How do we really get rainbows?”

“Well, I’m going to need some special equipment to show you.”

“Like what, Miss?”

“We need a glass of water and a sheet of white paper.”

Billy laughed.

“Why is that funny, Billy?”

“You. You said we needed special equipment.”

“I did, Billy. Please would you find that sheet of paper for me. I will bring the glass.”

I picked up the glass on my desk;  it was about two-thirds full of water. I took it to one of the children’s desks nearest the window.

Billy hurried over to me with the paper.

“Thank you, Billy.”

“How’s this going to help, Miss?”

“You’ll see. When do we normally see rainbows?”

“After it’s rained.”

“It’s certainly when we notice them. There’s something else we need that we now have.”

Billy looked back out at the playground again. “Sun, Miss?”

I nodded. “What do you think will happen if we put the glass on the desk and the piece of paper next to it?”

“Don’t know, Miss. Rainbows appear in the sky, Miss.”

“They do, but we can use science to copy what happens.”

“Science? Really, Miss?” Billy frowned again.

“Yes, you do still want to know how rainbows work?”

“Yes, Miss.”

I put the glass in a bright sunny patch on the desk. “Put the paper next it and tell me what you see.”

“A rainbow, Miss!” Billy’s eyes sparkled with excitement, watching a mini rainbow appear on the paper. “That’s magic, Miss!”

“It’s science, but it certainly feels a bit magical. This happens because different colours of light are bending or refracting through the water. White light, like from the sun, is made up of a mixture of all the colours, which can be separated out using something like a glass of water. Red light bends least as it passes through and violet bends the most. That’s why the colours in a rainbow are always in order from red to violet.”

“Can we show the rest of the class?”

“Yes, Billy.”

Billy bounced up and down. “Thanks, Miss. Do you want to know something else?”

“What’s that, Billy?”

“I’ve decided wet lunchtimes aren’t so bad after all.”

© Lynda Shepherd, 2025

I loved this tale of a young reader; it reminded me of the Fables Of Aesop. When I was eight, I was given extra attention at Junior school by my own version of this teacher. Aesop being one of the many books that I read along with Nature magazine, The Viking Sagas and The Greek Tales of Homer and Odysseus.

Lynda’s story uses dialogue between two people in a natural conversational way. I seem to spend my life chasing rainbows and this tale resonated with me. I felt my teacher was the first to truly understand me.

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For me, my childhood years were a constant puzzle of trying to understand facial expressions, social cues and body language. Back then, I was a voracious reader and always had my nose in a book. Later, in the workplace, it was computers and technology where I found my place – working with machines that were based on logic and rules.

Misunderstandings in education are a common theme in people who were educated in the 1950’s through to the 1970’s. There was not the same awareness about neurodiversity as there is now. This means many people of my generation are being late diagnosed with ADHD and ASD. Diagnosis is important for understanding and reconciliation with our life choices. I was finally diagnosed as ADHD/ASD 27 years ago when I lived in The Netherlands. This led to an epiphany, an understanding of why I made certain choices, why I always felt like an observer on the outside of the fish-tank of my life.

In a poem to her son Tim, Jawbone Director Megan Simson shows just how bewildering life can be for those without a diagnosis.

Tim

You carry my desires
They were planted in you
before you were born

Spirit-led truths
wishing to take form
In the hope
for different outcomes

You carry the yearning
of the bewildered kid
making it up
as she went along

Lost in daydreams
Falling through the cracks
of the flawed system
ignorant to the needs of difference

You carry the hope
of the vulnerable
twenty three year old
awaiting your birth
searching for different outcomes
that the love of learning would bring.

This was the only intention she held for you.

Morphing into a spirit led calling
which you now carry.

A burning desire
to bring forth the change necessary
for new outcomes.
Striving for an environment
where the difference
of every child is celebrated
and the love of learning
is paramount

(c) Megan Simson, 2023

Connect with Megan at her website: www.megansimson.com

*****

Misunderstandings can be familial, societal, cultural and institutional. I had a life-changing accident that led to ‘early retirement’ due to an underlying health condition that both myself and doctors had misunderstood. Retirement proved to be something of a silver lining. It led me down a path of creativity, where I reinvented myself as a writer – something of a childhood dream.

As a writer and poet, as a human being, I am a truth teller. I believe I don’t tell lies, or is that a lie I tell to myself? Truth is a slippery fish; elusive, it depends on your perspective. My truth will always be different from your truth. Enjoy this poem by Liam Smith, named simply Truth.

Truth

The truth has always seemed to me
Like ice cubes cracking in a crystal glass—
Clear, cut diamonds quick
To soften, transform
Transmute, distort.
A twisting thing, mutable
Melting and inscrutable
Yet all-embracing:
Total, just and sovereign.
The foundation, the bedrock
The core of the glacier
Whose surface might warp
Under pressure of nature.
Truth, the light; and life
The raindrop—scattering those rays
In rainbow shades
To grace our world
And so produce
Another version of the truth.

(c) Liam Smith, 2025

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So here we are ending this first week of National Poetry Month on Rainbows and Truth. Sharing through the written or spoken word can heal misunderstandings, tackling big subjects in a safe, mostly non-confrontational way. This can help us realise that perhaps we’re not quite as alone as we think. I invite you to share your stories or poems about misunderstandings.

The Jawbone Collective is a group of 18 creatives spread across the South West of England. We are also a small press publisher, workshop and live event organiser. Find out more about us here: www.jawbonecollective.org.uk

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If you’d like to see your writing appear in the Write On! Showcase, please submit your short stories, poetry or novel extracts to: pentoprint.org/get-involved/submit-to-write-on/

Hear extracts from Showcase in our podcast. Write On! Audio. Find us on all major podcast platforms, including Apple and Google Podcasts and Spotify. Type Pen to Print into your browser and look for our logo or find us on Spotify for Pocasters.

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