World Poetry Day: 5 poems about dyslexia

This year, we’re celebrating World Poetry Day by sharing 5 poems about dyslexia. 

1. Dyslexia by AO

Ten year old AO created a poem in which you can read both forwards and backwards. The poem was posted on Twitter by the teacher and has since gone viral, receiving hundreds of thousands of shares and likes.

Firstly, read the poem forwards:

I am stupid.

Nobody would ever say

I have a talent for words

I was meant to be great.

That is wrong

I am a failure

Nobody could ever convince me to think that 

I can make it in life.

Now read it backwards:

I can make it in life.

Nobody could ever convince me to think that 

I am a failure

That is wrong

I was meant to be great.

I have a talent for words

Nobody would ever say

I am stupid.

2. Disobey Me by Sally Gardner

Sally Gardner, an award-winning British children’s novelist, has written many poems about dyslexia. Below is one of the poems titled Disobey Me. For more poems written by Sally Gardner, visit The Guardian.

They told me I was dyslexic

it didn’t describe me

belonged in the library

of words I can’t spell

no matter how many times they tell

you just try harder sound it out

simple when you think about

it. Stop giving me the third degree

don’t put me down

don’t make me fret

I can’t learn my alphabet

it doesn’t go in any logical order

the stress gives me attention deficit disorder

at school I wanted to go it alone

they told me that’s unwise

they called me unteacheable

I was unreachable

stuck in the classroom, broken by rules, by buttons and ties.

But I don’t like the little words they always disobey me

the does doses up and is higher than a dude should be

So they tested me

they corrected me

and found my results poor

and told me I wasn’t concentrating

they expected more.

I tried to get along

I never made the score

And I think about Chaucer in those freedom days

when no one found your spelling faulty for the extra Es and As

Mr Shakespeare I wonder would they let him write his plays?

Oh woe is me

might just be

graffti in a bog

And Hamlet the name

he called his prize-fighter dog

But I don’t like the little words they always disobey me

the doe doses dope and is higher than a do should be

You say that you’re a writer

but that’s absurd

how do you write

if you cannot spell the words?

listen, it’s not the way I spell

that makes me want to write

It’s the way I see the world

That makes me want to fight

I challenge you – see the words as I do

feel them sting your skin

the meaning often shocking

the way the nib goes in

to relish discombobulate not to moderate your passion

not to murder language in an artificial fashion

words are our servants

we are not their slaves

it matters not if we spell them wrong it matters what they say

But I don’t like the little words they always disobey me

the does doses dope and is higher than a dough should be.

3. Ghoti by Gregory Kearns

Gregory is from Liverpool in the UK. He is a published poet and works at The Brain Charity which helps people affected by neurological conditions including dyslexia.

I’m asked to read out names on awards night

at school. I’m reassured that I’ll be helped

to pronounce all the names that I can’t read.

The teacher points to my piece of paper

scaled from my nervous folding. This one’s

easy, say it as its spelt – So I do

and I’m wrong – over and over. So

I practice – even double-check the hard names.

It’s said like café and that helps until

my memory aid swims away,

and there, the slight smile of disappointment

on students’ faces as I get them wrong.

To think that I can spell fish: ghoti and pheti

the way I always read unite as untie.

4. Dyslexia by Teedy Dawn

Teedy Dawn’s poem about dyslexia reminds us of the struggles those with dyslexia face on a daily basis. You can listen to the poem below by visiting Poem Hunter.

It really is annoying when you can't read black on white,

You just get lost so easily because you can't tell left from right.

When words all look like pictures and letters jump around,

And mathematics baffles you because it has no sound.

I'm capable, articulate and speak with true conviction,

Yet it's written works and reading words that highlight my affliction.

Sometimes I worry silently, the fear just makes me sick,

I fear that people judge me because they think I'm ‘thick'.

So I offer up this silent prayer to ease my troubled mind,

Let others see me, as I am, intelligent and kind.

Please feel the struggle that I face each and every day,

Dyslexia is not a myth, it’s real and here to stay.

Alas, I know that faith alone will not bring understanding,

The world is fast, intolerant and always too demanding.

I realize no higher being will clear my mind of fog,

In which case, I have to ask if there really is a doG. 

5. The First Bird of Dyslexia by Philip Burton

Philip Burton is a multi - award winning poet. The poem below was commended in The Poetry Society’s Stanza Poetry Competition 2020.

Morning has Broken, said the hymn

like the first morning; and (for me)

was unreadable even when pounded

out with heavy hammers

mor- / -ning / has / bro- / -ken  

Teacher would perform the trick

of lifting a sound and a sherbet lemon

from a high shelf – mor, he would say –

cracking the sweet with his teeth

now you, now you…

       – ning he would say

now you, now you, NOW YOU…  

Each bit spoke for itself, I was told;

he showed his tongue and sweet fragments.

MOR- crack! -NING / HAS / BRO- crack! -KEN

a spine-touching nosedive of sound

scattering hanks of itself on the road outside.

Blackbird has spoken like the first bird

okay, but my spoke had a missing bicycle.  

Nothing screamed from the page;

even when scratched by an adult fingernail

mor- couldn’t talk, -ning had no bell.

I couldn’t conceive of them leaping through eyes

into the brain, and out of the throat.

I hosted a dream of shapes and cyphers

that whispered, sneezed, clanged and blared

but none of them had any name, or if they did,

it constantly broke, broke again

like the first morning.   

When told I was lazy or dull,

springing fresh from the Word

I perched my face on the loops and ascenders

of the wrought iron gate of the school

till morning mended.

Have you written a poem about dyslexia that you would like to share this World Poetry Day? You can email us info@dyslexia.org or tag us on your social media post!