Barbie in evolution at Musée des Arts Décoratifs, Paris…
All Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Author: deuxiemepeau
PICTURING PARIS, MUSEE RODIN
A Sunday strole through the home and work of Rodin…
All Pictures by Damien B. Donnelly
BLUE
And there, by the winding road, it watched
and there, by the rushing waters, it took anchor
and there, neath commuting clouds, it found no freedom,
her song; locked to the land
waiting as the tides retreated
wailing as the breeze bolted
out onwards and over
always and forever
while there, by the winding road, by the edge of the baying blues
her song;
bound to the shore
unlike the tide
unlike the tempest
unlike the sands of time
blue said the sea
not I said the sky
nor I said the clouds
nor I said the sand
but I sang the song
there on the shore
her song forever tied
forever more…
All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Photograph taken in Skerries, Co. Dublin, Ireland
FASHION FORWARD EXHIBITION
Fashion forward exhibition at Musée des Arts Décoratifs, Paris…
All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Sharing Sunday: I see her
And our final Sharing Sunday poem
is from Candice Louisa Daquin
from TheFeatheredSleep here at WordPress
and the bonds that bind a mother and child,
no matter how distant or invisible they may be…
Sharing Sunday: Addict
Sunday Sharing is here with a captivating,
and dare I say addictive, poem
from Maribeth Batcho
found here on WordPress at Unleashed
I am an addict.
An addict.
I admit it.
ADDICT.
I am addicted.
Addicted.
That is what I am.
ADDICTED.
I want more.
And more.
No use pretending.
I want MORE.
I can’t stop.
Just can’t.
No use in hiding it.
I CAN’T.
I won’t stop.
Just won’t.
No use in lying.
I WON’T.
I am a junkie.
The more I have,
the more I want.
STUFF.
I am a user.
The more I get,
the more I crave.
CANDY.
I am a fanatic
in search of a high,
an escape, some serenity.
A TRIP.
I am dependent
on my next fix.
A place unknown to me
I SEEK.
I am a goer,
a wait-until-the-last-minute-er
a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-er
a What’s-next-er
A VOYAGER.
I have a habit
that I never want to break.
New cultures and peoples and languages,
are lifeblood.
my FIX.
I am an enthusiast
searching for the next place
View original post 8 more words
Sharing Sunday: Endless Wound
Sharing Sunday continues
with this piece mourning the tragedy in Orlando
from poet Paula Antonello Moore
found here on WordPress at The Expressible Cafe
A Flood of COLOUR
A candle lit
A hug squeezed tighter
A prayer said soft
A fearful moment
An aching heart
A torrent of tears
A frozen stand
A mass of people
A group of friends
A far-reaching hold
A loving hand
A willingness, cold
A raging view
A thought said blankly
A stat in books
A bond united
A hope in Love
A fractured debate
A NIGHTMARE, plain.
Paula Antonello Moore, Prose. Copyright: Monday, June 13, 2016
Image: A hand in light by Valeria Boltneva from StockSnap
In honor of the 49 killed , 53+ injured and infinite wounded in heart by yet another gun-related nightmare in Orlando, Florida. XO
Sharing Sunday: Gifted
Sunday Sharing continues
with a poem from poet Elizabeth Helmich
at The Crumbs of my Life and this beautiful moment
of music forged between the branches of a tree…
Sharing Sunday: Daisies
Sharing Sunday kicks off
with this precious piece
from poet and novelist Jane Dougherty
found here on WordPress at Jane Dougherty Writes
For the Secret Keeper’s weekly writing prompt
The prompt words were:
INSPIRE | NIGHT | MIND | NEAR | WANT
What inspired the mind
That worked the night and moulded space,
Sculpted the cold and made a world?
What power there was in breath,
Heavy with a thousand gases,
Bright with the fizzing lights of fission and fusion,
To produce the ever-swelling ocean,
That rolls to the edge of eternity and beyond.
Was it desire to create a masterwork,
Or was it simply the need to be?
Not enough to be the dark,
The pulsing nothingness of the void,
Not enough to feel the cold, bitter and unchanging,
Not enough to be the only thing.
I, though, hold a daisy in my hand,
Delicately, between forefinger and thumb,
Close enough to see the yellow flecks of dusty pollen
Glinting, sunspecks,
While the dripping globes of last night’s rain
Shine bright…
View original post 46 more words
LONG GONE
I see you
in pictures
of a past
barely present
on a wall
already crossed
that we once
sat upon
I see you
in pictures
of a hold
hardly held
in a place
already parted
that we cannot
return to
I see you
in pictures
of a truth
never tested
with a smile
still surviving
from a time
now long gone
All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Damien B. Donnelly 