Author: deuxiemepeau

A DEER BY A DOLMAN IN DUBLIN

/ deuxiemepeau / 8 Comments

–

Where you there, all the time,

I asked myself,

for I have not discovered

the powers of hindsight,

as our words wove

like the wind

around the whispers

the woods were once

witness to?

–

Where you there all the time,

I asked myself,

in that soft spot of spirit

in the fold of our minds?

–

I had whispered, along the way,

as feet caressed

the crumbling clay,

as a heart trembled

in a throat that tried not

to tumble through words,

I had wished for a grace

to ground us like that curve

of concrete on the caress

of the mound that grounded

what had once grown tired

into the ground.

–

You were there, all the time,

I told myself,

as I caught the river

as it cast reflections

of trees rising up

and roots growing down

and I realized

we are not just man,

we are not just the mound

we lay beneath.

We are inseparable,

like these reflections

sinking into the stream,

we are not one, but the other,

not beast or beauty, but both,

finding our way along the water

to a bed to call comfort.

–

You were there, all the time,

a dear Deer, by a dolman, in Dublin,

listening to our songs

of the living

and the loving

and the dreaming

and the dying

–

laying our poems

on paths already pressed

while the deer stood and wondered

who would come next?

–

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Group photograph by Harry Browne who you can find on Flicker.com

On Saturday 17th February 2018 renowned Irish poet Kevin Bateman gathered a group together on sacred ground next to Dublin’s oldest Dolman (even if no one talks about it, advertises it or sign posts it and it took Kevin 10 years to find it), Knockmaree Dolman on the Hill of the Mariners and poetry wound it’s way around the winds in the Phoenix park. I can Dream and You can Love is his latest brainchild and spoken word event and featured the following poets (in order of appearance) Kevin Bateman, Supriya K Dhaliwal, Jasmina Susic, myself, Jessica Traynor, Catherine Ann Cullen, Eilin de Poar and Maeve O’Sullivan.

You can watch the event as it was recorded live on the link below. More details will follow but I have to catch a plane now back to Paris!!

https://t.co/IVxOJIyGIw

You tube link: https://youtu.be/GAXG_vR6C6c

Audio version for this poem available on Soundcloud:

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/a-deer-by-a-dolman-in-dublin

 

TEDDIES AND TIDES

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–

I held on so long to a comfort

stuffed into the curve of my arm,

on nights when no one noticed

the child behind this mask of man.

I held on to a space outdated,

to a void I thought I’d vacated,

crouching into a cramped corner

of considered claustrophobia,

convinced I was more the victor

than the victim

–

(at times we can be both).

–

I held on so long to a tear

I thought time had torn but tides

are temperamental, unlike teddies,

they fold back on themselves

and we are swept again under, later,

long after, as if they had waited

to defy expectation

–

(we are experts at expecting to be the exception).

–

No one and nothing drowns

in the first wave. All and everything

is a cycle, tides come and go

and then return to take some more.

We are children and then adults

until adults lost in longing,

longing to understand the hold

of the child behind this mask of man.

–

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

SEASONAL CYCLES

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–

Winter’s withering winds

rustle through berry’s blossom

in the gentle dawn, falling

on these days of the daffodil.

I walk by wild water

in a world wild of will.

Bloom beneath spring

summer; a blanket beautiful,

seasons are cycles,

sweet that song from seed to stone.

All words by Damien B. Donnelly influenced by the lunchtime magnetic poetry oracle

WE ARE SEASONS

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–

Spring sun sweet on skin

that still recalls the rain,

(it is not just raindrops that fall)

drunk is the forest beneath

those blood red moons

(blind are we to the fires we started).

Will you swim through the shadow

to beat away these bitter blues?

Beauty is a ship of summer symphony,

we are whispers to be worshiped

before our season stops to sing.

All words by Damien B. Donnelly with the help of the magnetic poetry oracle.

FLEETING BLUSHES

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–

We drink eternity,

soft, slow, salty,

like coffee cups

of unexplored ocean blues,

breathing in dark stars,

bleeding in the wake

of the wild breeze

that has no home

in these fatherless trees,

eyes moist by this window of time,

a prisoner of this smoky glass.

We are porcelain colored in concrete,

a brilliant blush of delirious desire

before decay.

All words by Damien B. Donnelly and gifted from today’s magnetic poetry oracle.

CONTROL

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–

Control.

How to cut deep.

Tipping toes in the tepid

tides of therapy.

We are cunning creatures

in unconscious,

under cover,

cool to discover

the character

beneath the cadaver.

Control.

How to discover,

how to distance the self

from its disguise,

from the depths

we dive to deceive the day,

the way we weave

tepid tales through the tides

of our twisting truths,

ever evolving, ever revolving

in directions we cannot dictate,

covering over shades

we cannot eradicate,

those waves that ruminate,

that sweep through veins

already raging red

before the oxygen

burns the blue. Control.

How to find the true blood

in a body beaten into believing

the truth of what the consciousness

considers to be correct.

–

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

CONCRETE CANDY

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Perfumed kiss and velvet poison,

caramel can be a concrete candy,

I blush, almost broken,

a prisoner to this ocean

of long grass and liquid sky,

this smoky glass, darkly dazzling.

 

A wild flower is not a sister of peace,

fire is not a dance easy to put out.

 

All words by Damien B. Donnelly, with the aid of Magnetic Poetry

WAVES OF IDENTITY

/ deuxiemepeau / 10 Comments

I
identity
my entity

empty.

Build             bond             break

break out
break away
break down

drown.

Resume
resolve
revolve
rotate

we are circles encircling

ripples in a small pond

revolving
evolving

dissolving into the careless current

less             and less             and less

we come up on the curve;
the comeback,
still seeking
a connection

attraction = distraction

subtraction
more and more                  of less and less

to be less
so as to become more

to come to understand

to take more of a stand
in this sinking sand

of time                                 ticking,

to stand under
to be left alone
to miss
to misunderstand
to be misunderstood

to be missed.

I
miss
me.

This entity,                 this endless identity

this ripple on the water
I cannot                     catch.

Catch.
Throw.

We put so much trust
in every thrust
not to be thrown

not to be let down

let drown.

We adapt

to be apt

to hide
to assimilate
to cover up

makeup                 mask                         masquerade.

You cannot hurt what you cannot see.

You cannot hurt me if you cannot see me.

 

If I cannot see me.

 

I
me
this identity

this entity             washing away                 on this current.

We are stones
cast careless into the current

we ripple
and fall.

Can you catch a wave
before it’s washed away.

Can I?

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud: