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


My Friend

Us who feel vulnerable
Are noticed by others
And the heart which we have
Inspires them beyond


Sense of the World

This blooming Bag for Life
Broke the first time I used it.

Where does that leave me????


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.


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.


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!?


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


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



Being a limited being is beautiful
For we the bereaved
The damaged
The vulnerable
Are aware



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


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…


Forever in Lygra

Drummers and horn-blowers
Around the rocks
And in the sea

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





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


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
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.


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


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.


Who Is That Man I Am

All the drives
The wishes

I am
I think
I am

So I will be

But to be free

And decide

Who is that man
I used to be



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

Within the mountain.
So close to the source,
It fills

This land it brings
Such very strong emotion



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
Hear it said again,

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

You hardly hear
This tiny part
For you…

Are broken


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


and my most inspirational and most veiwed poem blogged so far


3 thoughts on “Poems

  1. Pingback: Poems More | Adrian Spendlow The Blog

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