Between the lines and through the lens…
Clouds congregate under summer skies, standing towers, still, waiting for Napoleon’s rise. Up close, only echoes of history hit the hollowing rock below- coming in to slip out with more, in search of possession on another shore. There are footprints on the beach- horses hooves whose metal shoes now feel the rust of the […]
Read More…
I was in Paris at the time- drawing rabbits on chalkboards in an Irish pub, on a Friday, in a cut-off corner of Chinatown. Joanna had studied in Queens, Mum was over from Dublin and Anna and I had promised each other forever friends though we barely survived the slow pull of a decent […]
Read More…
Who knew rocks left actual human shaped footprints It’s wordless Wednesday but it you are looking for words to read, visions to marvel at and a deep dive into poetry then look no further than Black Bough Poetry’s latest anthology, currently No.1 on Amazon for poetry collections and our WordPress muse Merril D. Smith is […]
Read More…
Not all creatures can be crushed- some lords have lizard skins beyond the light to slip from. Behold, stilled soil but the other side has been broken. All words and photos by Damien B Donnelly. Photo taken at Pere Lachaise, Paris
Read More…
There was always an end Even before we started To circumnavigate Time’s tock- Listen Still Hear it Winding back To that first tick There was always an end We Were Just greedy Like composites Wanting to be primes. All words photos by Damien B Donnelly
Read More…
There can be earthquakes in little towns, far from tectonic plates, on little streets, rarely shaken where we sat, once, on the wall of a garden now obsolete, the summer burning through our cool-lessness as we trembled beneath attractions we didn’t have the words to understand while eyes watched from windows, trying to translate […]
Read More…
We strike matches along the shiny skins of polished apples, bite into the heat of burning coals that hold no seeds within their core, watch our reflections on the heavy skins of those ripening fruit as if it will show us a truer representation of who we might be because it too holds a […]
Read More…
Old wheels still turn through new miles. We are more than we look- muscle is not only what it takes to transform. We skirt old roads now well educated on my departure, it’s not just the seasons that circle back on themselves. I’ve left parts of me in every other recess in order to […]
Read More…
Lilium lancifolium lies back in a bed we repositioned last spring under the scorch of today’s mid-afternoon melt. In a slow movement that set her into structure, before the dawn woke the rest of us, she assumes a position to demonstrate the perfect pliancy of her freckled petals and pushes everything out to be […]
Read More…
Dominant bird rings on repeat his call in the late afternoon- arriba, arriba, arriba he appears to echo whilst other feathered fellows join in his mash-up as if they all know the price is now time sensitive- this has become their season to shine- they sing and we sit in their shadow, the quiet […]
Read More…