Deuxiemepeau, Poetry by Damien B. Donnelly
Between the lines and through the lens…
Movement, into open,this Earth is now an oceanand our toes eager to taste the tide again.Roads are waves,cars are accompanying dolphins,schools of fish, cruising outside of classrooms.Movement, into open,we are astronautsteaching ourselves how to stabilise our legson old streets that come to uslike giant steps onto new moons.Motion sicknesstriggered in these minor moveswe used to […]
He was tame, if truth be told-a curtain twitching kind of fool-heartedguard dog making studies of how the othersmade their way through the humdrum.He was sturdy in routine, if not stature-nose in the paper after the Six O’clock newson the far edge of the sofa every night,inside-out sweaters on a Saturdayand passing round the basketin […]
Everything is about numbers;numbers to hold,numbers to call,numbers to count you back to when you last came,to where you came from,to the miles you’ve movedsince then, the things you lost,the weight you gained, waiting.Everything is about numbers;race,pace,the breath you chase,the peace once possible,the place you never knew you were meant to be inin relation to […]
I saw fateDrunk in some caféEyes of moon and pretty menPretty buttons and a bow tieTombs in eyesA percolator for dreamersHiding bottles before gorgeous wings. Fly away! Love got lostIn a blue lightLives in the devilPours out like holy wineA mouth like yours knows your deedsStay to bleed? You are my fateFly!
In the airport barhe was wearing my eyes;circles ripped with hurricanes. The wind reached for my hand,saw me old,took contradictions & splashed themon my brow. Should I make them valentines;the trails, the test? One loves more. One loves less. This ring we’re in; let them lose, win? In the airport barhe was wearing my eyes;circles […]
We pick things, pull things,up from under, roots, weeds,things we dropped, things to distract,flowers to fill the spaces since vacated.We pick things, pull things. We keep things, store things,in boxes, under beds, in sheds,under sheets; your stool of supportwhere you watched us, running; out, off, gone.We keep things, store things things we didn’t know, thenhow […]
Come Imbolc / we’ve left the gate on the latch / waiting Come Imbolc / turn us over and all else / outWe’ve left out straw to ignite ashes into actionInto obliteration / cleanse this dust / this despair Come Imbolc / empty us / our bellies lie openEager to be burped / belched / […]
We happy to see my Stickleback poetry collection published by The Hedgehog Poetry Press finding home around the world and Thank you to everyone for your support. Look how happy this little one is…
