THE POETRY SERIES
This is an ongoing photographic series titled “The Poetry Series”. Each artwork has a stanza number and is accompanied by a poem written by Spencer and Lloyd in tribute to the artwork. “A Book of Poetry: Volume I” includes the first 13 stanzas and is limitedly available. Artworks from the series have been exhibited in the National Portrait Prize and included in the semi-finals of the Moran Photographic Portrait Prize.

18. The Encore - Skii Harvey
She takes pause before it all begins
An audible gasp of baited breaths
She smiles and gently lifts her chin
Revelling in her guests unrest
And she wonders if they might suspect
The twists and turns she has in store
She ponders as the band project
The start of a wistful, rousing score
Are they ready for love and loss?
Are the ready to weep for joy?
The best of life comes at a cost
But soon they’ll call for her encore
An audible gasp of baited breaths
She smiles and gently lifts her chin
Revelling in her guests unrest
And she wonders if they might suspect
The twists and turns she has in store
She ponders as the band project
The start of a wistful, rousing score
Are they ready for love and loss?
Are the ready to weep for joy?
The best of life comes at a cost
But soon they’ll call for her encore

13. The Wall - Elise McCann
The nights have passed in silence
The days were whispered sighs
I wondered twas it the highness
That kept them hastening by
I did call out perhaps once or twice
But none did seem too moved
I suppose they insisted on sacrifice
when I asked to be removed
So I’m waiting here now quite fixed
Unlikely to ever come down
But on the upside I’m now convinced
I’ll become a saint of some renown
The days were whispered sighs
I wondered twas it the highness
That kept them hastening by
I did call out perhaps once or twice
But none did seem too moved
I suppose they insisted on sacrifice
when I asked to be removed
So I’m waiting here now quite fixed
Unlikely to ever come down
But on the upside I’m now convinced
I’ll become a saint of some renown

12. The Mother - Helene Latey
The mother has no more tears to cry
Her child was suckled till her teat ran dry
But she knows better than to wonder why
She knows if asked you would only deny
She just waits and watches the passersby
To see if they’ll stop and realise
That it is their own nature that they defy
And she decides who lives or dies
Her child was suckled till her teat ran dry
But she knows better than to wonder why
She knows if asked you would only deny
She just waits and watches the passersby
To see if they’ll stop and realise
That it is their own nature that they defy
And she decides who lives or dies

10. The Attic - Hannah Marshall
It was from these windows I did see
The world play out a show for me
The shadows danced around the trees
The sun did hide for the stars to peek
And oh the flowers played their part
I watched them bud, then fall apart
All as the wind, “hooed” and “harked”
A song that called each day to start
And each day they played unrestrained
Each day they awoke to dance again
And with only this window to entertain
I wondered if they’d keep me sane
The world play out a show for me
The shadows danced around the trees
The sun did hide for the stars to peek
And oh the flowers played their part
I watched them bud, then fall apart
All as the wind, “hooed” and “harked”
A song that called each day to start
And each day they played unrestrained
Each day they awoke to dance again
And with only this window to entertain
I wondered if they’d keep me sane

7. The Castle - Brianna La Rance
I’ll build you a wall that’s tall and high
So your enemies need not climb
I’ll build it in stone and the blood of men
So their moans will stifle your cries
I’ll build you a moat so wide and deep
That any whom pass you by
Will stop and wonder who loved you so
That they kept you safe and dry
So your enemies need not climb
I’ll build it in stone and the blood of men
So their moans will stifle your cries
I’ll build you a moat so wide and deep
That any whom pass you by
Will stop and wonder who loved you so
That they kept you safe and dry

6. The Mirror - Victoria Newell
It was a whisper that spun her so
A lingering whistle that kept her close
And though still, she swore they moved
Her lips into a smile just as quickly removed
But then, again, she saw in her eye
A narrowing, a glower, oh nature defy!
Surely mistaken, she looked once more
At the mirror, at the girl whose resemblance she bore
This portrait was a finalist in the 2017 National Photographic Portrait Prize
A lingering whistle that kept her close
And though still, she swore they moved
Her lips into a smile just as quickly removed
But then, again, she saw in her eye
A narrowing, a glower, oh nature defy!
Surely mistaken, she looked once more
At the mirror, at the girl whose resemblance she bore
This portrait was a finalist in the 2017 National Photographic Portrait Prize

5. The Bite - Yolanda Ramke
In it seeps through my veins once blue
The shift of season changing hue
And when it’s past you’ll find me there
Under a quilt of autumn’s hair
My eyes will open to meet your own
And at last I’ll awake for winter’s bone
But in the spring you’ll find a new
What once was dead will come for you
The shift of season changing hue
And when it’s past you’ll find me there
Under a quilt of autumn’s hair
My eyes will open to meet your own
And at last I’ll awake for winter’s bone
But in the spring you’ll find a new
What once was dead will come for you

3. The Ritual - Wendy Sharpe
The thoughts arise so often
I wonder if they’ll stay
To keep this nagging hunger
A little more at bay
I awoke again this morning
To find they didn’t leave
Perhaps they knew how much
They set my mind at ease
I’m thinking of inviting them
To stay at least a year
I don’t think they’ll mind at all
If I insist that they stay near
This portrait was a semi-finalist in the 2016 Moran Contemporary Photographic Prize
I wonder if they’ll stay
To keep this nagging hunger
A little more at bay
I awoke again this morning
To find they didn’t leave
Perhaps they knew how much
They set my mind at ease
I’m thinking of inviting them
To stay at least a year
I don’t think they’ll mind at all
If I insist that they stay near
This portrait was a semi-finalist in the 2016 Moran Contemporary Photographic Prize