I beat back the blues
by licking fingers
on this honeyed language
we spread over the dawn
of each dark day.
We can be drunk on symphonies
of sentences
that slip shadows into sleep,
I whisper of rain
and you twist another truth
through its tendrils
to tell of something drier,
warmer, more lasting
than a droplet of despair
dissolving in the air.
We can be drunk on the words
we sip slowly in the storms,
we take torrent thoughts
of thunderous terror
and turn them
into diaphanous diamonds;
everything is an experiment,
a reaction,
a chemical coming to terms
with its contemporary,
a dictionary is a sentence
awaiting a structure,
the moon is a callous clump of coal
until your eyes spark it
with suggestions of significance.
So much can be broken
and the rest appear so bitter
but I come willingly
to lick the dark chocolate
of these words
and see what structures we can build
together between all this
broken bitterness.
All words by Damien B. Donnelly
Damien B. Donnelly 
Beautiful !
Thank you my dearest! Sending you and Trey and pixie Christmas greetings, speak over the holidays or early Jan- need to send some money your way! 😘🤗😘🤗 can’t wait for feb!!! Adventure time!!!
Dark chocolate, bitterness, brokenness, and even drunkenness! “Drunk on the words we sip slowly in the storms” and “I come willingly to lick the dark chocolate of these words…” I was spellbound reading this poem.. what a passion for words! Have a very Happy Christmas Dami and I look forward to more of your amazing posts in the New Year! 🙂
Thank you Liz, I really enjoyed writing this one, always happy when Little positivity sneaks in through the shadows! I wish you both a wonderful festive season filled with joy and laughter! Until 2019 🤗🤗😘😘🌟🌟🌲🌲
The year has slipped away so quickly Dami, and its true that 2019 is nearly here! This is the third consecutive Christmas that we are in the process of moving to a new address. And we’d actually rather be settled, believe it or not! “Hunger is not a harbour…” my all-time favourite poem – it provides me comfort and encouragement. This time we own the place we’re moving to, perhaps it will be our harbour 🙂