We are born through barriers that break, water carriers through canals  into comfort and concerns  were borders are built to nurture nature while we are compartmentalised, still, more silent, less severe; fortunate, less so, white, less so, gay, straight, one gender,  less gender, clever, less so,  a part of peace  or placed into parts Continue reading “BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO.30, NAPOWRIMO”


  I have parts of me  twisted like rotten roots  in drying soil and parts of me  supple as feverish fruit, thirsty for attention. I am both  crumbling skin trying to flee this figure and sides so smooth that they offer little hold. I have broken borders to be free and built boundaries  to hideContinue reading “BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO.29, NAPOWRIMO”


  Walls cannot keep us from war, defences are not always the deterrent, destiny is not capable  of being confined in a cage. I captured a corner of comfort  but it grew cold,  capturer and captive,  alone is not alive, solitude is not always  the solution when looking for solace. All words and drawings byContinue reading “BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO.28, NAPOWRIMO”


  I constructed in concrete  so many conditions  to keep me away, like walls to fold me in  and hold you out, but with every kiss the bricks dissolved like snow melting in the heat of the sun that rose again when I thought our foundation had melted. All words and drawings by Damien B.Continue reading “BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO.24, NAPOWRIMO”


  On blood soaked walls  he painted his pain  in shades of scarlet  crying, on walls worked red he captured the child with cries that still  are drying, on scarlet walls he hung his hurt on hooks too high  to handle, in rooms since then he sees that shade still kindling  in the dwindling candle.Continue reading “BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO.22, NAPOWRIMO”


  Snow is no different to sun; it falls and we, in turn, slip silent under its blanket before it dissolves on skin  still tingling from its touch. I recall the heat we made every morning I wake up  and feel the caress  of the cold. All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly

Paul Stephenson

Poems, Poetry, Poets

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na rudai ata i mo cheann

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