Poetry Collection by Adrian Spendlow 08 2017

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Poetry Collection by Adrian Spendlow 08 2017

 

If by chance

If by chance a fairy came this way the air she danced upon a glistening pastel pattern of an atmosphere inter-linked with lilac, puce and purple edges of the burgundy issuing images of thought inside you of an informative description messaging to reach for this in all the impossible the actual the so now real She gives you She gives you gifts made possible from within the everything If by chance a fairy being fluttered by us yes she did and this is ever-time where one foot steps and feels the dew rise to lift one slightly Never ever again walk at surface earth or quite the same for you are otherkin and everything is happening Reach within and step beyond to

 

by Adrian Spendlow

 

 

Bum’s Rush

I am moving back up, onto the edge of the toes

By the minute; go the moment

Hang it and dump it this not able to cope

Sickness, bereavement, anxiety, recovery

Slowly, ponderously, dealing if possible

Begger that darlings. It is a whole just as shite

When you are ready for it. Up at it every day

Mind set and healthy fit

Though don’t expect to get the better of it

Get on them timbers and shout out for attention

Not expecting though

To be immune to an afternoon snooze

Or a complete flip out

Take all your happy snaps

Begger that too honey. I am ready

And I am right on the edge of the toes

It’s called living

And bum cheeks are clenched

 

by Adrian Spendlow

 

 

The Noise in the Corner There

 

Most people are just not that pretty

Or interesting in appealing ways

Miracles are manipulated to achieve

Off the peg fits for their additives

Thank the gods of unloveliness

There are evening socials

Groups to join, sufferings to have

Places we hate to work – Thank God

Not being interesting is quite bad enough

Hey, we don’t know how to engage with you

Or to take turns either

Those botched eyes haven’t quite related

To your semi absenteeism

Inept appearance is hardly our worse aspect

Let’s form a club, or work hard to have staff night outs

Goggle at each other; at our google eye unbeauty

Let’s have a get together

 

                                       by Adrian Spendlow

 

Just Any Two People

God it was exciting to be alive

Back when another human was encouraging

Things there were to say of each other

Habits turned to possible activities

I was interesting by god

So were both of us

Shadowy gangs of hangers on

They realise

They used to be people we knew

They were excited too

No, actually, they were exciting too

It was us, and we were new

 

                                   by Adrian Spendlow

 

 

I Spotted A Victim

I admire the survivability of survivors

A whole rainforest of tears shine this morning

Just thinking of playgrounds and wooded areas

Just thinking of the homes which disparage the word

I admire the survivor

The ability to look in a mirror on waking

And ‘make-up’ to be like other people

Other people other than perpetrators

Surely there are other people

That’s why we do our hair of a morning

To be like those other people we have heard of

I admire the survivor for keeping writing as tears

Blur the ink of this growing poem

I admire the survivor

For I am sure they can see me

Reaching out as we know you know

Monsters make us doubt ourselves

Yet a chance moment allows

An unstable old person, a poet,

And an eight year old

To look around sat on hay bails

And acknowledge

I don’t know you, either of you

But I do know

I know you admire me for I survive

I do admire survivors

I admire the survivability of survivors me

 

                                              by Adrian Spendlow

 

 

I Dreamed of a Village

We built a tepee village here

And the bunny boiler

Killed my kid

“Goat stew” he said

A whole herd has lost

My favourite little friend Fifi

He belittled me in other ways

These days I look back at

The rolling meadow utopia

We physically built there

 

                             by Adrian Spendlow

 

It Never Happened

It is my honour bound duty

She whispered kindly to her

To keep a child with her mother

I am a family nurturer

In many situations I would do this

In your case

It would be a wickedness

Over my dead body would they

Put you back with that monstress

Bless you child

That you have no memory

Wild as you are

You are a miracle you see

 

                       by Adrian Spendlow

 

And a couple of old ones from way back…

 

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

 

Poetry Is

 

Poetry is a flickering grit of rock

Cast within the wide forever black

Poetry is a rare viewed

talismanic artefact

Poetry is the disallowed

Clutching at the edges of the past

Poetry is no longer held

As other than the esoteric

Bring it back

Poetry is – no longer

Gone the way of the storyteller

Gone the way of the Shaman’s chant

The way of the dance

Where is all your ritual

The spiritual – The festival

Gone the way of the

Soon to follow songwriter

When such as Dylan die

Who will sing

Just for the sake of truly saying

Poetry – Poetry is gone

No longer inspiring the simple soul

To go live the life of the Troubadour

Poetry is no more

And yet

It leaves us all bereft

Help us poetry

Why don’t you call

Reach us like a joy to share

Gather people – Listening hearts

Or have we hardened

Pushed aside for solid ground

The will to even care

Poetry is dead

And at it’s wake

The quaffer’s smack their lips on

Garish fayre

Did they forget

Or is it there

Seeded in the genes

the memory of gathering

Simple childhood harmony

Poetry is

A stoppered flask

Lingering as an inkling barely heard

Lost, stamping,

just beyond the daily word

 

Poetry is

The victim of the

“That’s not”’s

Judgement takes her

Poetry is

The scoffing stock of

“No time”’s

Avarice despise her

Poetry is the metal of the spirit

Turned away for what seems sharper

Poetry is

The laugh of Gods

Gouged out by heartlessness

A vision that the modern self

Just will not see

Set it free

Set it free

Say ‘Poetry’ have a home in me

Poetry – Poetry – Poetry

 

AS

 

 

0123 ev group flipped

 

 

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That Which Links is Silken Thread

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That Which Links is Silken Thread

I think the little differences intrigue because inside them is the similarity. Connections unspoken received and encouraged. I embrace you as you are. I embrace you as I am. I embrace you. For we are.

thread globe green.jpg

Adrian Spendlow

The Reclamation of Love

So much wonderful feedback caused me to revisit this poem, I read it now as if I have never seen it before and tears of joy and hope and love come falling through my smile.

To read the full poem click here

Adrian Spendlow The Blog

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I don’t do art, draw, or paint; I create images to compliment a poem or a story. This one says, ‘Read my poem; be inspired to love’

The Reclamation of Love

I think I’ve found love

and this time it is going to last

It came on fast

It let me know it is here to stay

This love has spoken of forever

Coming to me in a moment

In the petals of a flower

The seven hour scenery

Had many

Only one leapt out at me

This is a love of everybody

A love of me

Sadness told me

Lost love loses everything

Letting the feelings of failure

Come flooding

Forgetting enthusiasm

A trap of remembering

Saying

Never again

Never never again.

Never, be reliant on being,

of being better,

because of someone

Then, while thinking of others

of knowing

of helping

of contributing

View original post 47 more words

I am Celebrating – three thousand views since I started blogging – here are some highlights

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I am Celebrating – three thousand views since I started blogging – here are some highlights

The wonderful wonderful experience of my Viking Comics Inc. first publication – The Hammer Fliespic 031b redone

Strange Jobs

I released my first singleam

cloud worldI previewed my Greek Myths CD

I was very pleased to see my pal Georg has started a blogEvening Trail

Viking Comics Inc. Two – The Horned God and the Wild Huntseeress toni

Viking Comics Inc Volume Threeoski light

Model-making Done for the DAyA new regular feature – Grumble Monthly

I declared a Kingsea king

I tried artwild creature

wizardTen years a storyteller

A plan to conquer the Viking worldsnapped zena and meI am going to Gudvangen

I play with toys

Toys

I did poems

I was things

I planned a fishing trip and saw mooseelk 03

(You gotta look at that one, it’s my fave)

I cut out dollies

ade silouhetteI met ghosts

Medieval Historybig hat smiles

best tellerI got wistful

I ranted

I cookedme n amanda

12049342_495805563939884_3566201213765577221_nI got spooky

I opened a festival (on TV)

I discovered whole worlds

News of Faeries (btw I am about to prove that little people exist)

Stay close

There is so much more x

Grumble Monthly – A new magazine series to join such as Poem Pics, Chatty Mag and Rant of the Week etc

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Grumble Monthly – A new magazine series to join such as Poem Pics, Chatty Mag and Rant of the Week etc

I am updating this page and re-blogging it with loads more new stuff in it, cos I had this idea that I might be funny. My mate tells me I am not all that funny usually. Except – when I bitch-slap.ade-scarygreen

Get me mad or give me a platform to grumble and then I am entertaining. That’s what she said any way.

So you are going to have to put up with it right.

Well only once a month or so.

I will collect up all my grumbles and put them altogether into a themed magazine issue (just one of my many threads oh yes).ade

(People who see my posts on Facebook will be breathing a sigh of relief at this point, “Oh Thank the Gods, we don’t have to see his miserable posts three times a day.)

Super –posters are going to be the subject of my vitriol quite soon I can tell you. Ah, no, it will have to wait till next month and I will have to be nice in between times.

Mark My Words I will be jotting it all down and saving it up, so watch them posts of yours, cos I am…

Poundshops. They sell me far too much stuff. It is ridiculous. Oooo a fly swatter, I would like one of those. No. You get five. Five. What on earth do I want with five fly swatters!!!!!!

Lobster pots, they get me mad. There you are having a nice walk by the harbour and there are loads of them piled up (I actually think fishermen/fisherpeople are lazy as them pots are always there on the harbour – they ought to get out fishing more often). People wander by and they go, “Ooooo look lobster pots.” Have you looked at the seafood stalls! Loads of crabs, and like, two lobsters. They are crab pots, crab pots, what are you calling them lobster pots for! That’s why I am cross about Lobster Pots.

Oh no I have gone and called them that now.

loti notice 01Allotments. The committee have gone and put up a map board – ‘You are here’. It is rubbish, well for most of the year anyway. It is only actually accurate in mid-winter; the rest of the year it means nothing. Nothing.

Or.

It could be they have just recently repainted the notice board. So no one is putting notices on it in case it gets spoilt.loti notice 03

Yes that’s it, look, cos next to it there is a really old one and people are putting their notices on that.loti notice 02

And that Michelle, (not that I should really grumble about my wonderful friend), but what a rubbish greenhouse you have.pop up 03 Admittedly it has been in her shed for years unopened. So I borrowed it, and took it to another friends allotment to set up for our mutual seeds (don’t read anything into that phrase this is not a social networking pop up ad.)

But look at it.

pop up 01

Note the bag of pegs

I opened the packaging and it exploded, shot up in the air and became an instant greenhouse.. But what good is it ! There is only room for one plant. You have to peg it down to stop it blowing away. There isn’t a hole anywhere or a lid or anything. How on earth are you going to give it any water! They do need that you know. I hope it blows away.  Someone else can put their plant in it only for it to die.pop up 02

So I built one from bits laying about.cold frameplants 02plants 03plants 04

If you look closely at any of these pictures you will probably see some Mares Tail / Horsetail Fern. It is everywhere. And its roots go down to Australia. Turns out, one of the allotments is rented by the local horticultural college and about thirty years ago, they came and said, look we have a revolutionary way to get rid of Horsetail Fern. Can we come and work on the finer details in tests on an allotment? They planted the whole allotment with the stuff. Then. The tests failed. They didn’t have solution after all. Now. All two hundred and fifty allotments (vegetable gardens), are full of the stuff.

Look out Australia!

oz turned

Jocular yet slightly racist ignorance helped position this image

Whenever I am on a train, I look out at some point and there is a BATA. It says it is a country store and everyone is welcome. What the hell do they sell? I’ve never been in one. They are plonked out of the way by the railway and you never ever pass one by any other means of transport. Welcome? Pah!

Two pouts and you are out. My mum says you can’t trust anyone nowadays cos everything has been taken over by spammers and tricksters and all the cowboys she sees on them programs she watches that warn you about stuff. mum coolWell. She is right. I get at least one friend request a day. When you go on to look, they have nothing on their page at all. Nothing except their two pics, one for the profile, one for the cover pic. They are wearing a short shirt, they have big eyes and they are pouting. Remember my rule to get you through life –Two Pouts and you are OUT.

(btw I did have a genuine friend request one time fairly recently I am sure)

Spoiler alert –

This next bit is going to spoil a film for you, so scroll down past it quick.

Castaway.

Six long years he was there on that island. He could not escape because no boat with just oars would ever get over the great big reef that goes all the way round his tiny little miserable island. He crashed there with a huge pile of parcels he was supposed to deliver. He was going to deliver those parcels. He was going to get away from here and get home and do his job. He would. But one by one he opened the parcels, and each time it was something useful that saved his life. His long miserable life dreaming of the woman he loved who was now with someone else (A dentist!). When he eventually gets home he personally delivers the last parcel. Very emotional.

It is a true story. I recently, quite by chance, met the actual woman who received the parcel. (btw if you scrolled down a paragraph to avoid the spoiler it is in this one actually.) I actually met her, the real woman. I asked her…. What was in the parcel? The answer… Loads of bedding and a tent.laundry day spares

(Six years)

(Did ‘six years’ over egg the joke?)

I hate Kinder Ninjas. It has been driving me mad. Ages trying to work out what to do with it. But I did it. I have one on my key ring and I am ready…

Is there a message in random happenings? I have just counted up, and I have been given or had bought for me 11 suitcases. Is there a message in this for me?

Random equals synchronicity. I see it in everything. I believe in it. There is always a message. Then I read Jung. He says, there is no such thing as synchronicity, yet there is great power in it.

I like that. I like that.

Then. I read an article by some psychologist. He says random events are random events. There is no meaning in them happening at the same time. By their very nature random events are random. They are not evenly spaced because then they would not be random. So, they are bound to cluster. That is their nature to randomly appear and sometimes to randomly appear all at once. That is random.

I do not like that at all.

and that Vikings Uncovered thing on the telly – they ought to rename it – Myth Busting for Idiots (that’s my mini review)horned

Is it just me, or when you go on Facebook right, there is scroll along bar of recommended friends for you – How come every one of them looks like an absolute fruit cake.

And any of them social networking sites or twenty funny pictures pages n stuff, how come all the adverts down the side are always for really weird kinky strange stuff!

[blog update – ah, I’ve just been informed the adverts on pages you visit are tailored specially to you and relate to your search interests]

That Alan Sugar (I think it was him, but it might have been some other guy), anyway them queues in the garage – btw when I say garage I mean the shop where you go to pay for your petrol and buy stuff like flowers cos you forgot to get someone a present (see below).

You are in the queue right and the adverts are put on just for you, that guy, or maybe someone else I forget, right, made millions out of it, well a bit anyway. All they did was, went to a software company and said invent this please. There is a camera looking at you and it is linked to face recognition software. And it assesses the people lined up and determines their age, gender and stuff. Then it works out the majority profile and puts ads up about things they like. Loads of old ladies in the queue? = Ads for denture baths and elasticated hosiery. That sort of thing.

When I was in the queue the ads were all sorts of weird strange things!?

Norwegians (in my opinion) don’t learn English, they learn American English. So a garage is a gas station or a petrol station. Stuff like that. There’s loads more but I will grumble about it in another blog. No. Wait. I am getting radged now. Candy. Candy!!!!! It’s sweets.

Aeroplanes. They can’t have very good engines on these things if they have to put you in the dark by turning off all the lights before they can take off.

Ads for dating sites. They are always on saying our site will get you the right person you don’t want to be going on those ones that just ask about a couple of things about you.

What if I wanted to go out with a camel!

Thought: The chaos of the universe is mine and I should just do what I do. Accept my faults and failings and live. Lord knows there is love and acceptance there for me. I am damaged goods. Sometimes I forget the happiness, the sharing, the affection others bring. Thank you to all those who see the brilliance shine. I might just have a light in me.

Somewhere.

Shopping online with a friend is faster and easier or so I read – I don’t understand how the world works any more I don’t.

Buses. When you leave the stop before yours, press the bell. Then the driver knows she has to stop at the next stop in plenty of time. Do not sit there with your finger on the bell looking out all anxious and press it just as you get to the next stop. Don’t do that.

Don’t talk to people either. They don’t want to know. Woman in front of me the other day, she looks at the (slightly large) woman across from her who has a pushchair and says, ‘It that your granddaughter?’ No. It wasn’t. The poor woman looks round and says, ’It’s mine.’ All choked up she was. She actually got off a few stops early and walked so she could have a cry. As she got off the bus the woman in front of me says, ‘Nice talking to you’. No it wasn’t.

And another thing, that democracy. It is all well and good having democracy but the trouble is, there are some horrible people out there. How come they get included in the right to vote!!! It just doesn’t seem fair to me.

Junk mail goes in a folder marked junk mail, but some junk mail goes in your inbox marked junk. It’s like that advert where some people are allowed in the park and others aren’t. Junk! Why does it do it! Does it forget its own rules sometimes? Or does it think, oooops I’ve put that in the inbox and now I’ve decided it is junk, better mark it quick so I don’t look daft? Does it think?

And I will tell you another thing

[You have exceeded your space allowance for this month, please try again in a few weeks]

Part I

We must never join in my friend. We must be what we are and do what we do. We must never join in my friend. It takes so long. No one notices what we do, but we are in on the zeitgeist, we are the past and the future and often not quite the moment, we are what we are and believe; we must never crumble my friend. Nothing is ever the end. Except the end. And that is a temporal thing beyond this existence. Try stepping into how other people live. No. this is not us. This is not us my friend. We live in dream. Only dreams. Only dreams of what we can say. Of what we can do. Of what we can make be. And we sing brother. Oh my god how we sing. Let your visions be. Let your software searches be a thing of the long long moment. Watch those blue bars pass. Edit the moment again and again and again. Dive into excitement. Dive into possibility. Be. Just be. Because you are just perfect as you are. And we are in this totally crazy forever forever moment forever. Never doubt. Who out there is the same? Who of the people we meet could be us. Never doubt. Be. Never doubt; be. Because. Because of a thousand things you hold in your heart. All of it is bursting out and will be seen. Will be experienced, in the heart of others, it will, it will. My crazy friend. My crazy friend.  My friend.

Never doubt.

gra

I wrote the above after I realised I had joined the world of editors, sitting in a little corner watching blue bars go by. I once told Gramey that everyone has a destiny in life and a purpose and that his main quality was an ability to watch blue bars go across the screen. He reacted as if I had placed a curse on him! Now I watch them. We are in fact The Blue Bar Boys. Not that they are always blue of course. I have been watching the black line one on my editing software a lot lately. One observes stuff which seem so of interest at the time. IE It takes longer for the bar to go from 99% to 100% than it does to get from 1 to 99 altogether. And the first 45% goes by in a flash. I don’t suppose there is any use for this information but it seems important when you are watching it.

Does watching the bar go by help at all? I feel like I am helping it along when I sit there. Sit there staring. Then when it clicks through to completed and I can at last start work again, what do I I do? Get up and go and make a coffee. Why on earth didn’t I do that when I was sat doing nothing!

What I endure is nothing to the time Gramey feels he loses. I felt he might need a reminder that there are usually beautiful outcomes to all his hard work.

Poems More

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I am rerebloging this post because I have added even more poems. the top ones on here are part of the set I performed at Anna Semlyn’s Poetry Slam at the Golden Ball (a cooperatively own pub in York). I was slightly challenged as I was introduced as the Action Poet and basically I had hit veiw / modified / print and the latest batch of writings are for listening to, not performing. I did still have people come up and say I like your sense of humour, even though the theme is quite moving and thought provoking, so I felt I had achieved what I intended (even though I didnt win) 🙂 x

Click through on the link to see….

poems

and my most inspirational and most veiwed poem blogged so far

Poems

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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!?

 

 

 

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

river