And down fell rapture, fell down, not up,
having claws now, clenched now
over the faithless who couldn’t fathom
what their lies and legions had begun,

and off flew the doves that once divined,
by his hand, (by whose hand exactly?)
that dry land where ships could stand.
They soar once more in search of other shores?

Worry not their weakening wings,
those precious things, make them not
our whores, have them listen not
to manmade myths once bound in books
by human hands, by hooks that humans
hang to, bare back brave bird, flap not
in fear, for hear this, here, this, this is it,
after rapture has turned to wrath,
after the columns have conceded,
there is only rubble to rummage through.

Raped were the fine forests
with ferocious flames, with claims
to conquests and conquerors
and contractors of condos,
and ashes are the only monuments
to the woods now, so no Arc, now!

Hark now, how the angles weep
over drought, and the shadow of doubt
over mankind, man now drained of kind,
no more the floods, (gone, just like those
woods) as oil is sucked from starving soil,
from sacred sands once known as native lands

And down fell rapture, not up, fell down,
crashed into oceans cast with cadavers
of the countless who’d been cast out,
cast off, caught in the current of a concern
that we couldn’t seem to cope with, refuge
reduced a raft we couldn’t keep afloat,

pain has purged paradise and all pleasure
plucked out by those pinched claws,
gripped jaws, savage with selfish
sensationalism, fallen too far
to the right to ever be truly right.

See me, it sings, serve me, and it slivers,
before the ravenous roar of wronged
rapture itself is swept from the stage.

In the end, there are no encores.

Rapture. No Rapture. A new rapture!

A deathly departure!

Down with the darkness it dives,
deep down, and with it ignorance
and arrogance, deaf ears and blind eyes,
and mouths that eat their own tongues
for no more is there need for words.

The war has been won and rapture
has fallen down, is done.

And no one stands in wait for us.
The Coming they prophesied
has properly been and gone.


But then wake did I
from darkening dream
and turn did I
to open window
where light was cast
in joyous beam

and thought did I
on entering day
that sights from dreams
in day don’t stay,
but slumber still
behind closed eye,
and tucked down tight
neath blankets sigh

and so walk did I
and work did I
and laugh did I
and hope did I
and eat did I
and smile did I

and the sun retired
and the stars stretched out
and I thought
there is not a single doubt
as I stared upon
the heavens gesture
and thought not man
can this vision fracture


then turn did I towards end of day
and hear did I, though in the distance,
a wing in flight, a fear now calling,

no dream this time,

but that rapture falling.


All Words and Sketches by Damien B. Donnelly

Congratulations to everyone who took part in #NaPoWriMo2017! Now Breathe!

Audio version available on Soundcloud: 


Published by deuxiemepeau

Published poet, writer, baker and former fashion maker, with footprints in Paris, London and Amsterdam but currently back home in Dublin with sights aimed at leaving a mark on the West coast one clear fine day...


    1. This was a lurker from this week! This didn’t really pop but a few moments of being on a slow metro helped! Congratulations on completing one month of poetry! Clap on the back for us all!!! 🎉🎉😘

  1. That was an exhilarating ride. The beating rhythm and the waves of images give it the feel of a religious chant. Well done on completing the month. Look forward to next year!

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