Poetry

In Absence

/ deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

In your absence

It’s not that there’s less

Laughter to life,

There’s not less love

Or even less light,

Not all comfort is lost

Or all joking discarded,

Not all happiness hushed

Or all joy deserted.

 

It’s not that I’m saying

The sun won’t rise,

That darkness descends

And sorrow arrives,

I won’t pretend

That all color has faded-

That we have been robbed,

Ransacked and raided.

 

But your laughter’s now missing

And your goodness extinguished-

Your connection to me now

Has been truly relinquished,

I’ll remember you always

As the gentlest host,

Not the tallest of men

But of heart- you had most.

 

It’s so long since I’ve seen you

But I’ll never forget

The kindness you showed me

That will long outlive death,

You were funny and folly,

Caring and kind,

A gent of distinction,

And wickedly refined.

ED

The Judgment of the Shadows

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Did we smile at each other,

At least, at all,

Before the bond broke

That day, that morning,

After the dawn rose

In all its innocence,

Imperceptive

Of how it would part us,

Ignorant of the virtue you’d lost

And the sadness it would cost.

 

 

And did you feel the judgment of the shadows?

 

 

Did I know you at all,

That day, at least, back then,

In the thin thread of time

That we borrowed briefly,

In that deceiving dawn

That polluted the promise

Of the morning’s light

As so-called Elders

Counted constantly

The limited hold we had

Over each other,

Over the past, on the pain-

You- bleeding fresh in convent bed,

And I; still too ignorant to the wounds of this world

And the life we could have had.

 

And did you notice how they judged in the shadows?

 

I wonder, if in your crying-

And I’m sure that you cried-

Did your tears caress my face,

In all that wasteful

Wailing and wrenching,

Baby was born

And little girl grown,

Did the pain erupt

And submerge us-

Did the situation swallow us in,

Stirring the sorrows of a too-soon mother

In the birth of a so-called sin.

 

And did we hear those judging in the shadows?

 

Did you ache afterwards-

Alone, without me,

After the morning crippled all connection,

Did you ache all alone-

In that room without me

After your sacrifice that saved me,

Do you understand the gift that you gave me-

Your body that housed me,

Month after month,

Amid the swelling and stares,

The Jeering and sneers.

 

While all the world judged you from the shadows.

 

Did it change you, at all,

That day, that time

In that place

Of penance and prayers,

In that sacrificial suffering,

In that final goodbye,

In that giving up,

In that letting go-

In the loss that followed too quickly

From our very first hello.

Do you feel me still,

At all, after all, On holidays and birthdays,

When babies cry and mothers run

Do you wonder that happened

To your little baby son?

Do you remember us today

Right now, as we were

So long since our separation,

So deep in separate lives,

In ignorant oblivion

And an opposite direction

Since the hands of this world pulled us apart,

Since the judgment of the world forced us apart

photo-77

Nothing, Beyond the Sea…

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‘Nothing can be done,’

She said

Almost smiling,

Her clothes and skin

A lighter shade

Of hospital white,

‘Nothing can be done-‘

She said, ‘Head up,

Eyes forward,

Grin and bare it.’

 

Nothing more to do,

Nothing else to see,

Not a single reason to cry-

No ocean flood will bring them back

For strong currents have stolen them,

No tide will ever return them-

Not now, not at all,

Not just for you

While forsaking the rest-

The ones who’ve gone before

Since time began

And life found its end.

 

Nothing could be done,

He knew

With an intake of breath,

Sweaty palms, blurred vision

And a bag of belongings in his hands

And then it’s empty-

The contents on the table top-

Motionless and mournful,

Detached and dislocated

From its owners,

The hands ticking ever onwards

On the watch-

Time still moves on,

Even now,

Even without them

Breathing through this world,

And yet the tides still return to the shore

After deserting it,

And then desert again

And then return

And all the while

Time stops for no one,

Takes no pause,

Bows not it’s head.

We are as the waves-

One chance to rise and crest

Before that single fall

Into eternity-

Once chance

To reach the highest height.

 

Nothing now to do

But sit and wait

For the calls and prayers,

For the nodding heads

And compassionate stares,

For the toasts

To the end of the road,

For the handshakes and hugs and tears,

For the long lost beggars

Wanting something from wills,

The placing you in the ground

Amid the shivers and chills.

 

Nothing left but nothing now-

A barren emptiness,

A sudden silence,

A sea without water or waves,

An aching that you can’t quite place,

A sinking sensation

That sucks on, seeps in

And seeks you to surrender

And suddenly all light is painful

All color is faded,

All laughter riles you

Like nails on a chalk board

And the nothingness settles in

And leaves you

Longing for nothing

But more meaningless

Days of nothing-

Naked,

Numb

And nostalgic

For the days gone by,

The lives now lived

And the faces now fading,

Already,

Overnight,

Losing their clarity

Their scent-

Surrendering to the passing seconds

And their touch

Never more to be felt-

Carried off those unreachable sunsets

That sink beyond the sea…

blo

The Blissful Wake

/ deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

Before my eyes open,

My body senses you and slowly

Accepts the breaking light

In the shelter of your arms,

Beneath the scent of our lust

Still lingering in the room

From the night before,

I begin to stir

And your body wakens to mine-

Aroused as our legs find ways

To entangle and entwine

Like branches bending together,

Toes running along calf,

Tickling down tiny hairs-

Touching, tempting and teasing.

My eyes open to find you

Next to me,

To let my lips find yours

And allow you be my first sensation,

The first taste of the day,

The first yearning-

Opened and explored.

This is how the light finds me, now,

Today, tomorrow, for evermore,

This is what it’s now like

To lay in the light

Instead of solitary in the shadows,

This is how it is-

Nestled deep within you,

Cosy all around you,

At a loss as to whose hand is whose,

Whose kiss came first,

This is the all clear

Present and future,

This is how the days

Will furthermore begin-

This is the reoccurring dawn

I have dreamed of in sleep-

This is what we make

Of the blissful wake.

photo-76

The Poetic Point

/ deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

Writing, with ink and pen

And open mind, thoughts

From the heartland of the questioning consciousness-

Muddled and moving, mixing

Musical thought with meaningful metaphors,

Subtly seeking the rhythm and rhyme

And fighting with form and formality,

Counting consonants and trying not to simulate,

Sawing sentences in centers

To shock, shake and stimulate.

Keeping, with honest integrity,

To the truth of the matter-

Uncompromised, unsweetened and unsaturated

In saccharine sentimentality,

Seeking instead what gets left behind

In the somber shade of the shadows,

Sorting the substance from the unsuitable,

The serious from the subterfuge,

And learning to lift lies from the legend.

Trying, with shaking hand,

To be true to myself-

To worry not about the funny, the foe or the awkward,

The downright stupidly silly,

Hoping, over time,

To vary not the voice from my voice,

To temper not the thoughts with temptations

From others with pretentious persuasions,

To be unafraid, unassuming

And always attune to the flow of the line.

photo1

Nana, Always and Forever

/ deuxiemepeau / 3 Comments

The years roll by
In a hazy blur of time passing
At accelerating speeds-
Another year older
And each subsequent year flies by
Faster than the one before,
Filled with new faces,
New phases,
New beginnings,
And newer goodbyes,
Anniversaries draw near
And that feeling arrives-
That sense of something missing-
But just gone of late,
Just out of sight,
Just around the corner-
A blink from view
Because nothing-
Not even time-
Can fade your face
From the forefront of daily thoughts.

Me, the child grown man
Under your helping hand
And gentle guidance,
Me, the child of your child,
You- Nana- always and forever,
With your splash of Tweed on Sundays
And best brown bread
Baked fresh for breakfast-
The sweet mother of my mother,
How much sweeter is memory
Now that you are a member of it-
Central to it,
Remembered ever onwards-
Not just now,
As that day approaches again-
The one that once darkened our door
In the past,
Not just because Spring
Taps itself on my window
And asks for me to open it and let the air flow in,
Is that you on the gentle breeze
That wraps itself around me
On early morning walks
And journeys home
During sunsets,
Sunsets you watched so often
From your stool,
In the kitchen,
By the window,
Station road,
North of the city,
Counting the busses,
Watching for the kids on the trains
And blessing everyone
With your goodness
And a drop of holy water
If they were lucky enough
To cross through your door.

Are you still there, somewhere, somehow,
Watching the lane
And its comings and goings,
Listening to the football in the field next door-
The shouts and roars and cheers for the save,
Do you still keep up
With who’s moved out,
Who’s moved in,
And who’s passed on-
Are they with you now,
Swapping stories,
Making tea
And laughing at the rest of us
Still battling and balling,
Crying and falling?

What we placed in the ground
Was merely your earthly remains,
Your soul and spirit
Are freer now
Than ever before-
Sometimes I feel you so close
And smile at the comfort that it brings.

Your story is without ending
We carry you, a little treasured piece, within us all
You walk this road, still, with us
Always and forever…

photo-75

 

Attaining the Stars

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Parted from the inhuman heights of the heavens,

We dwell deep, deep down

In what we’ve shaped

Into the final spoils

Of Planet Earth,

Lost amid our own

All-consuming desire

To rise up and stand out.

We are funny creatures

Of spiraling arms

And spindly legs,

Equally drawn and repelled

By each other’s tastes and tones,

Gifted with two eyes

To view the world around us

And yet remain often oblivious

To all and everything

Other than ourselves,

Though ever curious

To understand each other,

Oft’ times care for each other,

And, more often, control each other

As we wander about on two feet

And ten tiny nubbins named toes

With spine up stretched

As if trying to reach for the stars

Though all the time busy

Trying to make stars of ourselves-

Forever wanting to shine

As we bask in the warmth of the sun

And be remembered

As we fall drowsy under the spell

Of the moon.

 

Fickle fellows we are

Who fall frequently fool

To fortune,

Forever following the flock,

Fast footed on the flow

Of fashion and idols of falsity,

Fiercely arrogant

And fearlessly fumbling forward

Through consumer moments,

Appetizing advertising and diets of the day-

Were we not once modeled

Upon a glorious god-

An unparalleled picture of perfection

That somehow slipped, over time, to rejection.

 

Ambitious creatures are we-

Carnivorously craving more from the pot

And constantly climbing this ladder,

That ladder- every ladder.

No longer willing to settle

For only land and sea,

We molded man-made wings of metal

And matched the birds in flight

Low over land and water, at first,

And then coveting the clouds

And soaring past those stars

We tried so hard as kids

To reach out and touch.

 

Yet here we are, today,

Ascending higher than ever,

Reaching for those inhuman heights,

Us, with our spiraling arms

And spindly legs,

Eyes to understand

And ears to comprehend,

Capable of so much glory

With our courage and convictions

And opposable thumbs-

We had the hope

To hold the whole universe

In our hungry hands

With those fumbling fingers

And gnarly nails.

 

We will continue

To rise onwards and upwards

Charting skies lanes and skyways,

Naming those long, burnt-out,

Fading stars

After ourselves-

As if deserving-

But, while we wage war

On our own individuality-

On those very tastes and tones

That both attract and distract us,

Then the heavens will remain,

Always and forever,

The untapped attainment of human desire.

human

 

Ireland- The Emerald and I

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And again I found myself,

Of a morning- that morning,

On a winding road, once more,

Meandering like a stream,

Before it opened up to unveil

A vast expanse of stillness

Where brook and lake entwined,

Rugged roads wandered into wilder woods

And the light- that sat

Upon mossy mountain-

Reflected the break of another

Boorishly boisterous day

In a landscape where Yeats-

Having left the Mauds of his world

To fight the battle without him-

Had climbed nightly

The Thoor Ballylee

To find rest and I reveled

In what it meant to be connected

To these often harsh,

Sometimes barren

But seldom anything less

Than breathtaking lands.

 

Immense clouds hanging on the horizon,

Fertile lands out front

Awash with the 40 shades

And a silence amid so much

Awe-inspiring nature

That the Emerald in her name

Seemed so justified.

 

And yet, as if forever ingrained and known

But for a moment forgotten,

From somewhere deep inside

Resurfaced the notion

That it was not these lands

That I missed but

The memory of laughter

That blew above these lands

On the breeze that crossed

Fields of verdant greens,

That skirted over grass

Waiting to be grazed on

And found rest in trees

That longed for lovers to kiss beneath.

 

And then, as normal as the nodding of the cap

To the passing stranger along the roadside,

I was taken back to those lucidly liquid days

Shining from my youth

When the patriotic spirit

Of a nation-

So small but spirited,

More laughed with

Than laughed at-

Doused itself in shamrocks

And drowned itself merrily

In spirits of an altogether other nature,

A time when neighbors knew each other like family

And a new face in town was merely a friend we did not yet know…

 

And there I stood- home again,

Spun on that same laughing breeze

Into the past and I saw before me

The Me of today reflected

In my childhood form of yesterday

With teddy in one hand and Tayto’s in the other

Smiling amid laughter I had heard

But was far too young to understand

In a land that I’ve fled so far from-

Swept up and away

On other breezes-

And yet, however high I fly

Or however  much I roam

I never seem to feel too far

From that Fair Green Isle called home.

photo-74

The Beauty Within

/ deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

Put your hand

In mine,

To pull me

Not apart,

But to please me,

Pleasure me and perfect me

Into a useful unity-

A balanced blend

Of better beings

Than before-

Less bestial, base

And bitter

Than the twisted tribes

Who’ve crossed my path

In darker days of late

With their loins

Full of lust and longing…

 

Let this smile

Sink through skin,

Seep under substance

And build in us

The ability

To laugh

Through the long hours

And bask in the benefits

Of the beauty

We’ve made within…

photo-73

India- Along the Road

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I’ve crossed continents,

Curtailed time,

Been somehow seduced

By sleep while squeezed

Into my single sized seat

And swept, in one day,

From winters winds

To summers sun as seen

Scorching over sabulous

Sands, ignorant to the floods

And rains and storms

That have become my norm.

 

I am a homeless traveler,

Displaced from those norms,

The wide eyed wanderer-

Aghast at what this

Delightfully distracting,

Dust dosed, dreamlike country

Clings to as commonplace,

Conventional customs.

 

My eyes, fearful to blink

And miss out, flurry about

Their sockets trying to take in,

Understand or just be a witness

To this unaccustomed view

While my fingers fumble

Over the lens of my camera

Already failing to capture

Each memory of life

As it passes me by

At breathtaking speeds

That cannot even compare

To the cacophony of captivating

Charismatic charms I’ve been

Suddenly submerged in,

Surrounded by

But am nothing more

Than passing through.

 

I am being driven

Through your lands of millions

Where sarees, in more complex colors

Than stars in the constellations,

Careen through my side-windowed vista

From the backs of motorbikes,

Twisting and turning through

Chaotic carriageways

Crammed with cars of every

Size, sign and signature,

All Honking through the

Hustle and bustle of the crowds

Who live their lives along the roadside

And ignore the rules

We westerners have grown

So weak and wearisome under.

 

Curious eyes watch me

From lofty positions

On backs of open trucks-

Some eyes smile, some

Frown, some wonder,

Naturally, on the reason

That lies behind my gaze.

The air; awash with sights

And sound unfamiliar to me,

The landscape; flecked with tones

My eyes have never imagined,

On the streets, idolized cows

Wander freely through the masses,

Nothing to worry about,

Nothing to remark over,

Just a godly cow

In search of water to drink

And land to graze upon.

 

We are stuck in traffic and a man,

Looking blind to all light,

Weaves his way through the carnival

Of carriages and cars

With three sheep tight by his side

As if they’d always been with him,

As if they were his children, his family

And I wonder who is leading who-

The man, the sheep, this car or me.

 

Amid all of this life carried out

In cars, on corners, at crossroads,

Along grassy knolls and sandy banks,

Lacking in obvious direction,

There is a freedom.

Amid all this weight

Of politics and poverty,

There are smiles a plenty

And it is I, in my branded costume,

Who looks the fool

Traveling through, taking it in,

Thinking I am better off,

Somehow, amid my laws

And rules and beds and baths

And running water

And walled in farms.

I am the foreigner,

Amid what looks like

The fortunate

Whose fortunes are far

More favorable than mine.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly