TIME ON THE TIDE; PART 7; I PROMISE

I wrote words before,
polished promises I lost hold of
at nights by the sea where the waves stripped
all that was fantasy from a reality
that was never to know my hold.
I lost words I’d promised to hold
for longer than time would allow
but time is not to be toiled with,
time takes no prisoners, is not on our side,
the tide comes and goes, like these lines,
the ones we write and the ones we cross.
I can promise now, nothing but now,
nothing but this hold where hope is held
without being spoken,
I promise to hold you as we wash over time,
further, deeper into the waves
to see what the tides think of us,
to see if we float united,
or fall under in separate streams.
I promise, I promise.

TIME ON THE TIDE, PART 6; CURRENT

We stood in arms, two boys at play
as the sea swept the shore below,
as the wind wound its way around us,
trying to cut through us as a bird
battled above for the right to go left
though the current had other thoughts,
saw other connections in this flight
of feathers fighting the force of rising
and falling, of coming and going,
of getting to and moving on.
We took the boat that took our breath
as it waged through waves, past homes
housed on hills born from the water
that held no shelter (can it still caress?)
that offered no comfort from the cold
(where to find the heat?) as you slipped
your hand into mine in this foreign land,
you and your foreign hand already feeling
so familiar, coming in, coming closer,
going out and coming back stronger
like this boat that sweeps the shore
from city (of sexy trams traversing
and curved girls smiling) to the walled
edge of nowhere, where the guns
sound the silence in the shadows
of a ghostly grandeur where soldiers
once stood to secure their settlement
and I told you I would fight dragons
for you if we make it through the waves
that come and go, these motions that make
or break the connections we are now
curious to keep current, these arms
we want to keep so close.

On the train I left you and climbed
the steps to the east of elsewhere
as you continued along the tracks south
and then so far south that the sun
still shone, both with other connections
to catch but aware of the current
of comfort we had begun to create
and I wondered if the bird found its way
home before the guns roared again
through the sky. And later, I wondered
if it were that bird, that same bird,
that echoed through each of us,
as we made our way, separately,
through the night.

We take tracks on lines ever crossing
but are bound to circles ever spinning
like echoes calling back on themselves.

We are tides torn between the depth
of the ocean bed and the safely
of the sandy shore.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

TIME ON THE TIDE, PART 5; COTTON CANDY

 

Clouds come,
cover, congregate,
create contours
out of what was once
just colourless cotton candy
to catch us unaware
as we swim through
each other’s current,
currently without caution
and I wonder if we are
no more than clouds;
coming together,
creating colours
in between the shadows
before we fall too heavy,
too saturated, too needy
and comes the rain
pouring from the corners
of our eyes.

Clouds come, clouds go.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

 

TIME ON THE TIDE, PART 4, OTHER ROOMS

 

And so
another door
finds its hinges turning to a close
(you choose, you enter, you stay, you leave),
tides twist
and then return
as another summer
finds winter whistling on the arms
of outstretched autumn
(rains fall, flowers grow, sun shines, rain returns)
and I wonder
what is left
within the rooms
I’m leaving, in the corners once
caressed and now cast off, and in the veins
that entwine themselves around the body that houses me,
that pulsed through this home
that once held me
and I wonder
what is left
of the summer heat
now burnt onto skin since soothed
by solutions and sweaters and the summer nights
that promised no end but, like life, like this house, like all this
which was once home,
has now been paid for
and packed away
and prepped
for someone else
to put their mark on
while I ponder the patterns
now a part of this person, frequently familiar
and sometimes a stranger, that is me.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

TIME ON THE TIDE, PART 3; IN WAVES

 

And we kissed
and I took you in, in waves;
your breath, your body,
the smoothness of your skin,
the ease with which
my hands slipped
from thigh to burning heat,
lower, deeper,
aching for exploration
and my hunger rose
and I took a breath
and all that you are flooded me
with nothing but a longing
for more and more
of more.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

TIME ON THE TIDE, PART 2; DRAWN TO THE DEEP

 

In sweeping sprays
the ceaseless sea
is savage to the shore;

bound and breathless,
always and evermore.

Living life on lucent lines
that linger on longing
but are lulled by the lullaby;

that constant cord caressing
the circle ever spinning by.

Ardent amoureux are we all,
ever eager to be eaten
and drawn to devotion,

never quite knowing
if we are the sea;

devouring

or the shore;

devoured by the desires
of our own creation.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

TIME ON THE TIDE, PART 1; AND SO WE BEGIN

 

And so we begin; the light freshly falling
on newfound flesh, clouds breaking over
a sea breeze gliding in over giddy grass,
a giggle in its thrill, bright bodies bending
lending limbs to longing, every touch
a tiny tickle as naked truths twist and turn;
turn on, turn hot while hands draw hope
as we grope the layers, as we undress
a barrage of barriers now newly broken
on the floor by the bed with less room
but more comfort to caress, cum and cuddle,
each to the other a curious new creature,
new waves washing along the other; under,
over, into as we dare each other to dive
deeper, each breath a new scent to sink
below, a salty seduction, a sweeter sweatiness
like salt that settles in the afterglow
on the shore of this new light, bright
is the beginning, I want to say more,
but no, linger only in this fair light,
rare light, rare is the time for this light
that time will not spare, take time to taste
the temperature, between thighs we tumble,
between each pause we laugh lightly,
pulses pressing into parts pulsing, we learn
how far we can push, how deep we can dive
down, I rise up to speak again, but no,
not yet, be still, let us feel, let us feel
how much we can open up below
the light, this new light, just beginning.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud: