Month: November 2016

GOING EAST

/ deuxiemepeau / 9 Comments

 

I have crossed oceans
without feeling the weight
washed beneath their waves…

I have cut through clouds
without knowing the worries
they whisper to the stars…

I have flown

from darkening dreams
towards tomorrow’s daylight

and yet
the light’s already fading
on front of me

before my past
has even slept

before my future

somewhere far behind me

has even been conceived…

 

All words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

FINDING FAVOUR

/ deuxiemepeau / 2 Comments

 

Dig deep             fisherman,             brave man,
                                                      for there is worth below the waters,

between the silence
                and the stillness,
                                 between the fish to find
                                                and the tangles to entwine,
                                                                between the breathing in
                                                                                and the letting go, let it go,
                                                                                                 between the desire to dive
                                                                                                                 and the danger of drowning.

Dig deep                 fisherman,                 simple man,
                                                           for there is madness in the making

beyond the bank and bed
                and bark and bait,
                                beyond the trees that tower
                                                and the skies that shelter,
                                                                beyond the seductive stillness
                                                                                and the call of the silence,
                                                                                                beyond the fortune to be found
                                                                                                                 at the end of your line.

Dig deep                 fisherman,                 honest man,
                                                           salvation lies in your simple swing

far from the sinners
                swimming upstream,
                                far the faithful
                                               drowning in the shallows,
                                                               far from lies
                                                                              cast to raging waters, enraging waters,
                                                                                               far from the substance
                                                                                                                since sucked from the sacred.

Dig deep                 fisherman,                 still standing man,
                                                            make not the crowd your coffin

sure is the rod
                that sweeps the silence,
                                brave is the bait
                                                 that slips though the stillness,
                                                                 clever are the cautious
                                                                                 who consider the current,
                                                                                                  fortunate is the fisherman
                                                                                                                  who finds favour far from fools.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

DOWN THE DRAIN

/ deuxiemepeau / 10 Comments

 

My body

my body has a memory
my body has a memory of you
my body has a memory of your skin.

My body

my body remembers
my body remembers how it bent
my body remembers how it bent to your beckoning.

And yet

my mind
my mind has washed itself
my mind has washed itself of your name

like it were no more than scum
to be scrubbed.

All Words by Damien B. Donnelly

FERTILE FIELDS

/ deuxiemepeau / 10 Comments

 

Around me, like a blanket,
nature wraps its scent
of bush and bark,
of fertile soil,

as if I am the tree
and comfort comes
from fragile foliage

folding into colours
that glisten like gold
over crisp blades
of cut grass

that feel like velvet
beneath my feet
and I thread softly
and I move carefully

like the compassionate clouds overhead.

Before me with roots
deeper than time
a tree stands tall
entangled with memories

with madness,
with a sadness
that cannot be buried,
that cannot be wrapped
in a blanket.

We plant our past in fertile fields
and water them with our tears

in the hope for a brighter future.

 

This field, in Parc de Sceaux, in a southern suburb of Paris, is the site of the Mémorial de la Shoah, a memorial to the deportation of the Jewish during World War II.

All words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud:

SNAP

/ deuxiemepeau / 5 Comments

 

Pictures capture the setting in silence
as if the silence has settled

Reflections capture the stillness in the water
as if to sink beneath

could somehow be more soothing
than the reality rocking
just a fraction beyond the frame.

Hope is as fragile as a pond of still water,

a breath held

as if to hold back the ripples
that can render illusion

a drowned delusion.

Snap.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly