UPSIDE DOWN

10/04/201701/04/2017 / deuxiemepeau / 3 Comments

Day 10: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

Happiness

endless happiness

harboured in holds of hope hampers of harmony

hampers of… hampered happiness

heaped under hammer hindered

happiness and less happiness and less

under spotlight soundless motionless while all is in movement

happiness cannot be held in streaming eyes

happiness should not fall tear drops are not tender

see them falling falling falling

for you for all for everyone for nothing and no-one

happy to have hope

happy endless happiness

endless happiness and less happiness

and less and…
less visible.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

THE QUEST ACROSS THE SEA

09/04/201724/01/2018 / deuxiemepeau / 2 Comments

Day 9; National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

Wander, he thought, and wander did he
across the land and over the sea,
adventure, he thought, but distraction came free
as distance dissolved the boundary.

For a while, he thought, a while to flee,
to see what rests, to see what can be,
understand, he said, this need to flee,
understand, accept and set it free.

Relax, he thought, and relax did he
across the land and over the sea,
feel, he thought, the possibility,
let dreams delight in discovery.

But hold, he though, what you cannot see,
those hearts you left across the sea,
release, he said, if it’s not to be,
all bonds too fragile you must set free.

Just fly, he thought, all across the sea
fly like a bird, uncaged, and set free,
draw the vision and see what can be,
feed on the flames of positivity.

For a while, he thought, a while to flee,
your name, your nation, their opinion of me,
but to find yourself again is the key
and not lose yourself in that quest to be free.

All Words by Damien B. Donnelly. My own self portrait aged 18

Audio version available at Soundcloud:

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/the-quest-across-the-sea

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SUN

08/04/201708/04/2017 / deuxiemepeau / 11 Comments

Day 8: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

Sun shines in the valley
where the sun king came to stay,
shade is shy in the valley
at the king and queen’s hideaway.

Shadows slip through the valley
down from stars to under stairs,
some secrets slip through the valley
whispered from lips of concrete heirs.

Sun shines in the valley
on swans now savage at swim,
the sun shines in the valley
though the peasants weren’t allowed in.

Shadows sneak through the valley
through the greed gathered within,
shadow is splitting the valley
like guillotines cutting through skin.

Sun shines in the valley
as gold from the fountains flow,
the sun shines in the valley
where follies fade and legends grow.

Shadows sleep in the valley
along paths where tourists thread,
shadows are stuck in the valley
like dust on ideals long dead.

Sun shines in the valley
as Apollo rides the waves,
the sun shines in the valley
and drowns the suggestion of slaves.

Shadows stretch through the valley
pressed into promises made,
shadow is song in the valley
on benches where kisses once laid.

Sun shines in the valley
in the sun king’s palace of pride,
the sun shines in the valley
where they often just came to hide.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photographs taken on Sunday 2nd April at Chateau de Versailles, Paris, in the sun.

UNDER THE FALL

07/04/201724/01/2018 / deuxiemepeau / 5 Comments

Day 7: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

I want to live as a tree
born from branches
turning, twisting
rummaging, rooting,
roots in the earth
in the flesh,
sucking substance
from the soul
of the soil,
head in the sky
reaching, rising,
hoping, shedding
my skin like leaves
in autumn
and starting again
each spring
after rising up
from under the fall.
I want to live as a tree.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken in Parc de Sceaux, Paris, France

THE LIGHT THAT SHIFTS THE SHADOW

06/04/201724/01/2018 / deuxiemepeau / 9 Comments

Day 6: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

Trains used to slip
through these tracks
where runners now train,
old locomotives now relocated
like the light that displaces
the shadow,
but the lines
still linger,
less steam now,
more sweat
and sometimes
that light
that shifts
the shadow,
trains used to slip
through these tracks
that the city now tickles,
threatens with timeshares
to tear up what time still shares
in the corners where that shadow
leans into the light, on the lines where life
once rattled and raced,
before the new towers
knocked the old homes,
before the runners
and the walkways
and the boarders
and the builders
and the cranes
now shifting
into sight,
rising, in the distance,
just a step
beyond
that
light.

All Words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken at la Petite Ceinture, an old paris railway line in the 15eme

AS THE BAND PLAYS ON…

05/04/201724/01/2018 / deuxiemepeau / 2 Comments

Day 5: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

Amid the misty moods of jazz,
strings starring
the elegance of Ellington,
shadows caress
the couples kissing,
the barman swaying
and the affected
aficionados
converging
on the cello
player,
playing softly on seduction
sentimental moods

as the smell of him
sways still
over my skin
like fingers on the piano,
like the tune
he has played
on other bones,
(and softly sounds the sax)
on other bodies
(and the percussion pipes up)
while he moves
through the crowd;
my man of the moment,

oh my man,
I’ll miss him so…

mood moving from indigo
to let it go.

I watch him
slipping through
mouths sipping wine,
lips licking lyrics,
hands finding heat
below the table,
across the strings.

I’ve wandered down Bleaker
and tasted
the brown brick air,
I saw the sun
set down
high on the Hudson
and felt the wind
whisper the distant song
of solitude
that is never far
from my fold.

I’ve flown so far
to get here,
to this home,
his home,
amid the horns
and harmonies
(I’m already setting free)
it’s the strangest feeling
to know I am here
but will soon be gone,
for the A-train will be calling

as the band plays on…

Al Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud:

AT ODDS, AT THE TABLE

03/04/201724/01/2018 / deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

Day 3: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

Always
that fine line
between
what slots
together and what
slips in between,
those black spots
of doubt that cannot
be fully folded out
like linen that lingered
too long
before being laid,
like chopsticks
that fight for form
between fingers foreign,
like this morning,
in the park,
the birds you breaded
and tonight,
on your plate,
the duck, now shredded.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

NaPoWriMo: ENTITLEMENTS

01/04/201724/01/2018 / deuxiemepeau / 8 Comments

And so it begins, National (Global) Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

30 new poems over 30 days

Gird your loins! (Or Lines!)

Who’s joining in? Feel free to post your blog address in the comments section here to make sure everyone knows what you’re up to…

All pillars fall
over time,
all gods
grow down
out of grandeur,
grow pale
out of waste
(we cannot
always worship
that which is distant)
and gravitate
into grasp as age
and taste and circumstance
wrinkle the concrete columns
we set them once upon,
so high, too high
to truly touch at times
like trees too tall
in forests to far to reach,
too distant to be seen.

All pillars fall
over time,
all trees topple,
and their tales
revealed as circles
turned and twisted
in trunks we could not
wrap ourselves around
until we cut them down,
like bodies
bound by loves
and lusts
we could not reach
until we found a way in.

But you

You
will not
come down,
will not be grounded
(precious distance
demands still
songs of glory)
will not
wrap around
this flesh that feels
your fingers too far,
though still I breathe,
though not do I rot.
You;
not made
for me
but a moment
considered
too late,
too complicated,
but mystery,
but man
becoming myth,
no kisses but misses,

still missed.

I tended
too much
to the roots,
thoughts twisting
through a time
now past
(like your eyes to my sight)
now lost
(like your voice to my ears)
a time
never touched
(we never touched
but watched it
slip though fingers).
I let it tower
untended,
not over me
(how I wished),
but away from me
and found myself
firm footed
on strange soil
and you;
in the sky
of dreams
on a pillar
I built for you
never thinking
you’d one day
grow out,
out of reach,
our of hand,
out of hope,
out of hold
(all that I never held),
hand that I can’t
let go of
even if it’s now
too far from reach.