Month: April 2016

THE SCENTED ROAD

/ deuxiemepeau / 3 Comments

The 30th poem on the 30th day of April for National Poetry Writing Month

 

And on runs the road,
rushing in rings around us,
faster than feet can find footing, 
brisker than bodies can breath, 
holds lost in the hustle and hurry,
securities slipping by the sidelines,
hearts hurtling off into hills 
parted and passed
before properly appreciated, 
faces fading into flashbacks;
were his green eyes 
really brown or blue?
I catch his aftershave
in an afterthought 
but it’s mixed now 
with other musks,
other bodies, other owners,
other moulds the meanders made of me
on the sweaty scented streets
that scurry by in seconds.
 
And on runs the road,
tracks turning with time 
too tight to keep track of,
to uncertain to ascertain 
as changing lanes change lives
and loads, luggage left for others
to look through and lovers
left for others to latch onto;
swapping suitors at service stations 
like they were something to eat,
something to drink,
a seduction along the sojourn,
a kiss to capture and captivate us,
to carry us carnally on to the next carriage,
the next imminent interchange. 

And so another road opens
and on it endlessly runs
and I’m always rushing at the rear,
duly dreading and delighting 
in the connections to come
beyond the bracing bends…

All Words and Photography by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken in De Hoge Veluwe, Netherlands

Listen to the audio version on Soundcloud:

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/the-scented-road

 

CAUGHT IN THE CONSCIOUSNESS

/ deuxiemepeau / 2 Comments

 

Curious are the occasions 
you come into consciousness, 
like colours caught 
out of season, without 
a reason you slip in 
between the solace 
to accentuate the silence,
the stillness and the distance.
 
Curious are the occasions 
you come into consciousness,
like lyrics lost
to their line, without
reason or rhyme, you are mine
through the miles, a million
smiles emerging for time
to divide, derail and deride.

Curious are the occasions
you come into consciousness,
like a photo forgotten
then found as if to remind,
to rebound on possibilities
pondered, attachments
attempted and those
connections long cemented.

Curious are the occasions 
you come into consciousness,
like a hold that can be held 
in hindsight, and suddenly
there is kindness in the place
of confusion, comfort
in the place of exclusion,
hope in between the illusion…

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Listen to the audio version on Soundcloud:

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/caught-in-the-consciousness

RISEN

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risen

I cross bridges blindfolded

not afraid of the heights
I could fall from

but aware of the ocean
of emptiness
I have risen from.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken in Södermalm, Stockholm, Sweden 

AMSTERDAM CALLING

/ deuxiemepeau / 2 Comments

I heard you today 
on the metro, 
in the morning, 
words falling
from foreign tongues 
as the train took me
so much further 
than the tracks permitted. 

I heard you today
in the distance,
calling, 
after the departure, 
a language dissolving the borders 
that bind us now broken 
but a hold still held
that I hadn’t considered. 

I heard you today 
from the other side of the track,
on the other side of goodbye 
where I knew 
the grass was greener,
where the felt 
the need was greater,
I heard you
still existing 
encore
nog steeds 
within me
but buried deep
under movement, metros 
and current concerns. 

I heard you today
on the other side of the metro,
in this new metropolis of old
unstoppable,
unbreakable, 
unforgiving,
unchanging,
while I stop
and fall
and break
and change
yearly
monthly
weekly
daily
 
I heard you today
as you whispered 
from my memories
a delightful
hello. 

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

IN HIS PLACE

/ deuxiemepeau / 5 Comments

 

And slowly the bud unfolded,
new life in bloom
as the leaves trembled
like clapping hands
while the heavens hushed.

And slowly the bud unfolded,
a spring in song,
the frost now falling
like melting tears
on her gentle face.

And slowly the bud unfolded,
as he had said,
as he had promised
when life was long
and time eternal.

And slowly the bud unfolded,
life flowing in,
the day now brighter,
air now fresher,
her loss now lighter.

And slowly the bud unfolded,
and in the breeze
she heard him whisper;
“You’ll smile again
when the buds will bloom.”

And slowly the bud unfolded,
a song in spring,
as he had promised,
a love to last,
their touch eternal.
And slowly the blood unfolded
and silence took his place…

Until slowly the bud unfolded
and in its beauty she saw his face.

 

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Listen to the audio recording on Soundcloud:

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

/ deuxiemepeau / 3 Comments

We were meant to be nothing more
than the compliment to you,
calm and considerate,
not the conqueror;
covetous and carnal.

We were meant to be nothing more
than the guardian of you,
grateful and gracious,
not just gluttony
grounded in greed.

We were meant to be nothing more
than the homemaker in you,
humble and harmonious,
not all harmful,
hungry and hoggish.

We were meant to see the beauty
and not become the beast.

All Words and Photographs and Watercolour by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken in Balmoral, Scotland.

FullSizeRender

TRUST

/ deuxiemepeau / 2 Comments

 

Trust me
as I thrust into you,
as we sweetly
split the space
within the identity
that we identify
and the disguise
that we discard in corners
where clothes are cast aside
for more carnal concerns,
born in beds soon to be
bruised and battered
as we bare bodies,
as we bend bodies bare,
tongues tingling to taste
the tender flesh
fresh for plucking.
We tumble and turn
in throbbing thrusts,
in tantalising teases, swaying
to the sweaty surrendering’s
between soon to be scented sheets
and shaking shadows, shy and silent
until I cannot tell
your limbs from my legs,
your hands from my hips,
your taste from my tongue
and in between
we slave and sleep,
and in between
we worry and work,
but before it all
we lay and linger
and before it all
we kiss and cuddle
and I curl beside you
above you, below you, inside you
and even in parting
I still feel your hold around me,
feel your breath upon me,
your scent within me…

Trust me
as I thrust
as I trust in you too.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

DELICATE THINGS

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There are violets
in lullabies
caressing windows
where once
only sleeping notes lay

There are songs
in springtime
seducing summer
in gardens
where all colour was grey

There are violets
awaking
on walls now a witness
to the orchestra
of nature at play.

There are violets
on strings,
on sweet subtle strings,
simplicity reassured
in the delicate things.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

THE FIRST TIME, UNDER THE PINK

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Tears on the sleeve of a boy
he’s gonna find release today,
‘Tears on the sleeve’ is what she sang
I fear he is a man today

Tears on the side of his face
this was what he’d waited for
thrown by the time and the place
he thought it would be so much more

things to touch
things to kiss
things to feel
and things to miss 

Tears on a bed not his own
his tongue is gonna roam today
as Tori plays the piano all forlorn
he finally woke the dream today

Lips on the chest of a man
desire came throbbing into life
fingers trace the length of his spine
to many years under stress and strife

where to look
what to see
how to hold
and who to be 

Tears on the sleeve of a man
he stripped the boy from man today
tears in the throb of each thrust
there’s no more need to kneel and pray

Lost in desire and despair
as bodies bend beyond the bed
not what he thought it would be
confusion raging in his head

where to run
where to hide
how to breathe 
but still he cried 

Under the pink with his pants
while the wrong band came to play
‘Can’t stop it coming! she sings
and suddenly he’s on his way

Getting off 
getting off
while they’re all 
downstairs

Wanna go
wanna go 
but they’re all 
downstairs 

He read in the stars of a match
the horoscopes were wrong again 
somewhere in the hold there was a catch 
he won’t be cumming here again 

Tears on the chest of a man 
he left behind a boy today 
between the thighs of a golden haired man
he left behind the boy today

Someone’s knocking
on the bedroom door 
you can go now
he can go now 

he’s a man now
it’s all done now.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

BEAUTY IN SPACES

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There is a beauty
within this space, 
a creation considered
to compliment the concrete,

you can leave 
if you like 
by the stairs 
or you can rest
for a while
on the seat. 

There is a soul
within these veins,
a creation connected 
to more than the carcass,

you can leave
if you like 
by letting go 
or you can stay
for a time 
in the hold. 

There are footprints 
upon this floor,
tracks that tingle 
where others have thread,
 
weather will wither them
and winds will wear them

but they remain
submerged
ingrained. 

There are memories 
within this soul,
impressions that have permeated 
and beats that have broken,

they are indivisible from flesh
they are inseparable from spirit,

they are beauty
within the space
of every person.

All Words and Photography by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken in the gardens of La Fondation Cartier pour l’Art Contemporian, Paris