What are we
but lines crossing,
lanes connecting,
leaning on lovers
lying next to us?
What are we but colours
caught out of context,
in corners too curt
for comfort, so often
a reflection already faded,
a ripple unreadable,
a trace too tepid
to be touched, a shade
too subtle to be seen. Blue,
like she said, this is the rhyme
we’ll leave them in time,
a hue of blues on the water,
colour cast into the current
of consumers too caught up
to be concerned. What are we
but tall tales towering
over twisted truths,
echoes that ache more
with their passing
than their lack
of permanence.
What are we
but bright colours
bolt upright, trying
to make our way
through a landscape
that now shadows the day?
All Words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available on Soundcloud:
Damien B. Donnelly 
Lovely metaphor. I imagine you, a bright column of colour slipping through the sterile shadows of city buildings.
Well thank you Jane!! Today I’m actually acting like the sun- it’s in the sky but not sure what it’s doing!!!
If your weather’s anything like ours, it’s playing cache-cache with the March showers.
How can you be sun burnt and rain soaked all at once?
Easy. You drag Ireland a few degrees of longitude further south…
😂😂😂
That sounds like Damien to me, too!
The kind of person it’s our duty to keep happy 🙂
Agreed! 🙂
🙂
Your image is so defined, all those crisp lines, and then your words subvert it and play with it. It’s a nice combination.
Thank you so much. The picture cried out for a voice.
I like the poem and the image–and the thought of all of us colors sometimes running parallel, but other times intersecting.
So lovely esplly lines like “colour cast into the current.”
Thank you! The corners of color in this city are truly inspirational