I caught your scent
on the breeze today
as a stranger passed me
on a foreign street,
in a foreign land
and I fell,
a decade in the passing,
till there you were;
beside me, behind me,
inside me,
piercing my memory
with Parisian pleasures,
show-tunes and sunflowers
on this foreign street,
in this foreign land
that had never known
the wealth
or weight
of our love.
I caught your scent
on the breeze today
and was reminded
of all I won’t let go.


All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Spring Cleaning


Spring cleaning

As fresh white snow falls by the window.

Spring cleaning;

Filling countless boxes of memories

To be covered up in cupboards,

Hoovering up all you left behind

In corners too tricky to tackle.

Spring cleaning,

Polishing over reflections in mirrors

Of the many moments we made

And washing the bedclothes over and over

And entrusting the rest for time to fade.

Spring cleaning,

In December, with icicle eyes

As snows of white cover the world and its sighs.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly


Fidgeting thoughts

Reaching deeper into the mind
to disregard the frivolous poetic
dribble of infantile days, with intent
to extract hidden meanings behind
the restlessness recently found
in the momentary sway from elated
joy of comforting freedom
to the languorously sleepy
life passing-by complacency
that occasionally drifts in as life
drifts by while I slumber. Is it enough
to be alone again; to comfort myself,
to pleasure myself, please myself?
What is this numbness newly found
within while without I fuss, fidget
and fumble, decorate, dawdle
and doodle, bake, bath and binge.