Spring Snow
Spring snow, oil on canvas, 50 x 50 cm., Adam Donaldson Powell, 2014.


In the guises of feminism and masculinity,
we paced and stalked definition
with the cunning of a mother lion:
’round and ’round, closer and closer,
until our precarious showdown brought us
face-to-face with insecurity and dream.
As the war-drum heartbeats of a
million Amazons prepared to vanquish
my masculinity at its first indiscretion,
I loaded my tongue with silver arrows
and mercilessly catapulted the words
‘I love you’ against your brazen shield.
And simultaneously we fell — breathless.

by Adam Donaldson Powell, from “Collected poems and stories”, 2005, Cyberwit publishing.

Gone primal, oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm., Adam Donaldson Powell, 2014.
Gone primal, oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm., Adam Donaldson Powell, 2014.

A real sucker.

I am a real sucker for beautiful women …
helpless goddesses, manipulating and
man-eating amazons, man-hating
nymphomaniacs with a bone to pick …
all flirtatious, and moody — “spiderwomen”
with love that gets turned on and off,
like a faucet; and vaginas that require
so much work to gain entry to that it is
almost not worth the effort. I fall for the same types of men, too. It’s complicated.



Beetlemania / Bugging out! (Oil on canvas, 30x30 cm x two paintings).
Beetlemania / Bugging out! (Oil on canvas, 30×30 cm x two paintings).


Hey you, spiderwoman.
You who are always one of the
best-dressed in the city,
but who never uses money
when you are out on the town.
Hey you, spiderwoman.
So shy and alluring that
guys chase after you until
you capture them.
Hey you, spiderwoman.
So lonely. So sad.
So afraid for yourself.
Hey you, spiderwoman.
Is that so strange, really …?

(My original Norwegian version.)

Du, edderkoppkvinne.
Som bestandig er iblant
de best kledde i byen,
men som aldri bruker
penger når du er ute.
Du, edderkoppkvinne.
Så sjenert at gutter
leter etter deg inntil
du fanger dem.
Du, edderkoppkvinne.
Så ensom. Så lei.
Så redd for deg selv.
Du edderkoppkvinne.
Er det rart, eller …?

(Spanish adaptation by Fernando Rodríguez)

Eh tú,
Mujer araña.
Que siempre
estás entre
las mejores vestidas
de la ciudad,
pero que nunca
gasta un peso
cuando sales
de noche.

Eh tú,
Mujer araña.
Tan timida
que los chicos
te buscan
hasta que tú
los atrapas.

Eh tú,
Mujer araña.
Tan sola.
Tan triste.
Tan temerosa
de ti misma.

Eh tú,
Mujer araña.

¿Es raro, o qué …?


(from Adam Donaldson Powell’s “Jisei”, 2013.)

"Avalanche", oil on canvas, 80 x 80 cm.
“Avalanche”, oil on canvas, 80 x 80 cm.
"RAW", oil on canvas, 40 x 40 cm.
“RAW”, oil on canvas, 40 x 40 cm.




in the spring of our rapture,
you assuaged my hunger
with gallant love-bites and
wept rubescent teardrops
as my own offering
cascaded willingly into the
vessel of your thirst.
enchanting midnight promenades,
serenaded by love-sick werewolves,
inevitably climaxed with
splendiferous candlelit repasts
of aristocratic blood plasma
and the finest port wines.
magically abducted by the ecstasy
of transfusion and reminiscence,
we who are forever young
renewed our vows of
never-ending devotion with
all the certainty and bliss
intrinsic to incipient passion.
so golden were our halcyon days —
yet unblemished by the ravages
of overfamiliarity and diseased blood,
now yielding insomnious forenoons
in separate coffins and
solitary meals under would-be
romantic moonlight.
since our greatest promise
has become your heaviest burden,
I look upon eternity as
the merciless side-effect
of myopic infatuation …
and dream, perhaps,
of growing old.


(from “JISEI”, by Adam Donaldson Powell, 2013)




While we wait …


Patiently — we endure,
desperate to believe in God, justice and humanity.
Repeatedly — we suffer
from our own ignorance and immobility.
Admirably — we martyr ourselves,
tranquilizing pain with saintliness and esteem.
Inevitably — we avenge,
using the very tactics of our aggressors.
Ultimately — we are shunned
by all who thought we were extraordinary.
Typically — we wait
for the world to discover its misjudgment.
Ironically — we learn nothing,
and neither forgive nor forget.


Pacientemente — nos mantenemos,
desesperados por creer en Dios,
en la justicia y la humanidad.
Repetidamente — sufrimos
nuestra propia ignorancia e inmovilidad.
Admirablemente — nos hacemos mártires,
e intentamos paliar nuestro dolor con santidad
y consideración.
Inevitablemente — nos vengamos,
con las mismas tácticas de nuestros agresores.
Últimamente — nos avergonzamos
por todos los que pensaban que éramos extraordinarios.
Típicamente — esperamos
que el mundo reconozca sus equivocadas críticas.
Irónicamente — no aprendemos nada,
y no se olvida ni se perdona.

Copyright Adam Donaldson Powell, excerpted from “Collected poems and stories” and “Three-legged Waltz”)