Recollected As
There are some situations
When you listen
Or are listened to
That you realise
After hearing both sides
We may never know the truth
AS
My Friend
Us who feel vulnerable
Are noticed by others
And the heart which we have
Inspires them beyond
AS
Sense of the World
This blooming Bag for Life
Broke the first time I used it.
Where does that leave me????
AS
Metaphor poem
This one is purely an exercise, for a poetry workshop where I am going to be demonstrating metaphor (some say I should cut it to not having the ’my’ type bits.) I think my performance will shock the group into understanding the concept.
AS
Luscious Ripe Metaphor
This over-ripe piece of fruit
You hold in your palm
Is my heart
As your fingers enclose
The juice of my life
Squeezes out
Dripping down upon
The blackened banana
On the floor before you
You press down your foot
Feel the pulp of me gush
Step back
And spit at me
The small stone you fire
Is my cherry-red centre.
AS
Haiku No
The title of this next one is No Title and that is appropriate because it intends to be a haiku and yet haiku do not have a title, hence the title of No Title, but it is not a haiku because haiku do not voice thoughts and considerations, they are not written by effort to write, they are a thing you see you report and the reader finds the meaning with no lecture. But then again I performed this at the poetry slam and people laughed, so, as hai means pun, perhaps it is a haiku after all.
No Title
Watching the writer
Busy in contemplation
No haiku here
The cats cradle girls
The cats cradle girls
Stood out from the others
Not downcast and sad
Not at all
Self-contained, self-absorbed
Lost – to us
Such things are witchcraft
If they continue
If they survive
Just think of the future
Of their descendants
What would
the people of this village be like
in the tomorrows!?
Ammonite
Don’t delve into the creative well
Some of us were always meant to
Tripping round about the edge
Slowly, luxuriantly, stepping forward
Bathed in exploration of within
Finding pools are subterranean
Shouting discoveries through canyons
Echoes reach the light of day
Chilling listeners to gather
For occasional returning
Crushing, eager for some wisdom
Laughing, worshipping the diver
Seeking ways to live and move
Journeying involves return
As ancient waters, timeless, spill
Emptying lungs, and heart, and bile
Spewing dark, rich words is easy now
Somehow envying those who didn’t listen
Dancing in the meadows – laughing
“I can’t reach back to you!”
This fish is gutted, splitted, splayed
The facets now exposed
Will never go away
AS
Wishes of What You Are
I wish you
That which you are living
The road you are going
There is a pathway
It is in your heart
You have the strength
We wind different ways at different paces,
and you walk a path to the woodland of your very own
We have been with you each step
You are going among in your way
Together
AS
Thoughtful
Being a limited being is beautiful
For we the bereaved
The damaged
The vulnerable
Are aware
AS
Times
I rise above
I lift
I like to be
I roll without knowing
I should know
I should
I am the news
The disaster
The fascinating
The moment
And the fall
I rise above
AS
Something Inside Me
I set the default
It doesn’t work
There is always a reset
But I go
I try
Old as I am
There is no wisdom
There is only
A new direction
I wait here
And wonder
What it is…
AS
Forever in Lygra
Drummers and horn-blowers
Around the rocks
And in the sea
Ready
To welcome
As the ship comes in
To this rocky bay
In among them
In the waves
A woman
Such a woman
I will always remember
This moment
As we marched down
To proclaim
In all the tongues
Welcome
Welcome
Welcome
AS
Possibly
I think perhaps that this is
And how I am is how
Yes this is
I cannot walk across
To other than
Because of
As moments tell my lie
Belief is to fly
And I have been in there
Oh why doubt
Do I
Meeting systems of who
Of you
Being with another
Brings a lie
I do not doubt
I…
AS
A Collaboration.
This powerful poem by Norwegian writer Nina Instefjord retranslated into English by Adrian Spendlow (Me).
Videos and Paper
It seems so strange; all the ones who you love,
They never come back.
Some because they no longer are
And some connected to the ones who are no longer
I just watch them on video
Some you like so much your heart bursts
I cry, laugh a bit, then cry again
I remember
One should not feel sorry
Not, for yourself,
‘I hear my father’s voice’
Then I dry my tears
“If things don’t get better, then I don’t know,”
Once my father said
I am thinking the same
But everything comes to an end.
I hope it will be good
And I hope that he is somewhere he can see it
I used to write everything that came into my thoughts
Someone read my thoughts. They
Beat me as a punishment
This stopped my writing
My heart broke
I stopped writing my heart on paper
Life carries sorrow
So I am writing again
Because I have learned
Love and being true to oneself
To close ones
Might be something they don’t know
They can read
So they know
I hope they don’t cry
Like I did
I will write my heart on paper
Again and again until it is mended
Some things never come back
I accept and know
This is not a negative thing
This is how it is going to be
Sometimes you don’t decide over life
Like the weatherman
He also gets weather-sick.
I found the little pieces of paper with words
Now
I am at a crossroads
And I know a change is going to come
I hope it ends up with laughter
Like in the videos I just saw.
NI / AS
Touching Base At Last
When all is desperate
And there is crisis
One has a feeling of
Just getting through
When everything is fine
And all back to normal
The general perception is
Just getting through
AS
Style Gurus
As a loud car passes I contemplate, when I was the age of those passengers old men would shout at me, “Get your hair cut!” Now young men shout the same thing at old men.
AS
Who Is That Man I Am
All the drives
The wishes
Shattered
Gone
I am
I think
I am
So I will be
But to be free
And decide
Who is that man
I used to be
Who
AS
Heart of Norway
Here and there the river
Finds a way to flow
To channel; wind
Despite deep ice
My heart embraces
Love and wonder
Even though
Part of me is dead
Now,
Within the mountain.
So close to the source,
It fills
This land it brings
Such very strong emotion
AS
Broken
The rug is pulled from under
You crash to the floor
And are broken; broken
All you did was listen
It was gradual
Yet now sudden
You once were
Capable of anything
Anything
Hear it said again,
Anything
Anything
You cannot now
Pick yourself up
To climb to your knees
Inside, deep inside
A quiet voice
Is spoken
Love yourself
Hear only your heart
Breathe
Believe
You hardly hear
This tiny part
For you…
Are broken
AS
Top of the World
We occasionally feel
On top of the world
But this earth revolves fast
You have to set quite a pace
Just to keep still
AS
and my most inspirational and most veiwed poem blogged so far


Saying Thank You
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Reblogged this on Adrian Spendlow The Blog and commented:
I am reblogging this recent post because it used to be called Poem – and now there are lots of them!!!
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I am reading a few of these at the poetry slam tonight
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