Clouds

GIVEN TIME

/ deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

 

Rushes rustle a calling to the rain

mimicking
the sound
of those
molecules
of moisture
they long
to feel
against
their
sharp-
edged
skins.

We all
learn
to mimic
what we
must,
let go
of all
we can
not
hold,
lean in
to what
we love,
fake all
we can
not
feel.

Gulls
squawk
overhead
for prized
position
whilst
wings
spread
out
to claim
all that
eventually will come down from the clouds.

  

All words and photos by Damien B. Donnelly

 

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POTTERS ON THE ROAD

/ deuxiemepeau / 5 Comments

 

I am free in the morning,
in this morning town,
waking,

slipping from slumber
like skin from sheets,
like wings above clouds

conquering concerns
that come a calling
and I am falling
upwards,

falling in love with light

can feel it sparkling,
even at day break,
even when days break,

falling for all that caresses carefree,

I am not constant,
no longer, not caught,
I am on course like the stars

I course through clouds, up from down,

I am clear of connection, of weight,
of all that heaves over heart,
I am more made of mind,

romance redirected in songs scripted
from memories and moments measured

in the heights that held us
and not the fights that harmed us.

I am cutting from my own carcass my own canyon

in the soil of the soul,
more whole than helpless,

brave the bird that breaks
from the nest to find fortune in freedom.

Freedom is a solo flight;

to touch the stars
you have to know how to hold the night.

I am man now,
brave begotten from boy,
gotten braver, better, broader,

brought back to basic; the characteristic core of all creation.

Shadows are quaint covers now
that come in from the cold
when comfort is called.

Shadow is not all sinister, sun is not always safe.

We are starlight
making our way
through the darkness
before we fall to dust,

trying to decipher the difference
between delight and distraction
along the paths we are potters on.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly. From a series inspired by Joni Mitchell albums.

This is a repost for a week of Stars and Moons

FALLING THROUGH SPACE

/ deuxiemepeau / 7 Comments

 

Ghost clouds gather over ice cold oceans
of marble we can’t break through. Maybe
there was something deeper below the depths
we dared not dive. Breath is naked. Movement
muffed. Air rigid. There is nothing left to cover up.

I blush under your absence or do I blush
before the cold truth; this is it, we are alone,
one day we will end. All we have failed to learn
will fall through space like stars, burnt out before begun.

We are flames, in oceans, dying to be seen.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a remixed repost for a week of gazing at clouds.

GOING EAST

/ deuxiemepeau / 4 Comments

 

I have crossed oceans
without feeling the weight
washed beneath their waves…

I have cut through clouds
without knowing the worries
they whisper to the stars…

I have flown
from darkening dreams
towards tomorrow’s daylight
and yet

the light is already fading
on front of me

before my past
has even slept

before my future

somewhere far behind me

has even been conceived…

   

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a repost for a week looking at clouds

CLOUD’S ILLUSIONS

/ deuxiemepeau / 6 Comments

 

Gardens grow,
trees get taller,
clouds gather.

I see you
in the movement,
in the air that rushes past time turning,
in the scent of sweetened summer
now swept into corners now shaded.

Clouds gather,
trees get taller,
gardens grow smaller.

Eden is an illusion lost.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a repost for a week looking at clouds 

COTTON CANDY

/ deuxiemepeau / 1 Comment

 

Clouds come,
cover, congregate,
create contours
out of what was once
just colourless cotton candy
to catch us unaware
as we swim through
each other’s current,
currently without caution
and I wonder if we are
no more than clouds;
coming together,
creating colours
in between the shadows
before we fall too heavy,
too saturated, too needy
and comes the rain

pouring from the corners
of our eyes.

Clouds come, clouds go.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a repost for a week of looking at clouds

PURPLE CLOUDS

/ deuxiemepeau / 2 Comments

 

In that garden
of the many meadows of my mind

plants grow down
from purple clouds

carved of cotton catchable candy

and seek substance
from the surface
and not the ceiling.

In that garden
of the many meadows of my mind

fences are painted
with faces familiar

and mouths to catch kisses if you’re quick enough

and embraces
sprout like brush
to cradle comfort.

In that garden
of the many meadows of my mind

music spreads like ivy
a chorus to cut the chaos

and a crescendo of colour like a flower unfolding.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a repost for a week at looking at clouds

MOMENTS AFTERWARDS

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In absence
lips lean out
in longing,
clouds gathering,
a chill in the air,
the warmth slipping.

Memory is a playful thing,
you tease and turn
over and back to before.

We kissed,
I feel it intensely,
I see it clearly
in the mirror
still marked
from a night now over.

Cold showers
call out
from the falling rain,
seasons come and go.

Moments linger longer.

  

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly

This is a repost for a week of looking at clouds 

THE OTHER SIDE

/ deuxiemepeau / 7 Comments

 

What is life but a book to read from both sides,
from either end, from all there is to see here
below the constant clouds of consideration,
from far on high where the clouds are carpet
and the stars as close to perfection as we can get,
for midway through this meander of noise
and nonsense, of love and what is left in its place
when it has parted, I am no closer to the correct
question as I am to the unachievable answer.

What is love but a sunlight seen out of season,
a breath to better us when there is no air,
a rainstorm when all we can see is desert dust
sweeping over the highway where our hope
is headed while are we are bound, barely,
to faithful, to fearless, to ferocious, as we falter,
fail and fall and rise again, better for the bruises,
ready for the next round, prepared to bleed out
our lives along this road we are rocking. And still…

I can drink another case of you,
and you, and you, and you, and you…

What is life? What is love?
What is the point in asking?

We are here… happy, hurt, healing.

We have cut through the clouds
and reached the other side…

What more is there to fear?

 

 

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly

From my Joni Mitchell inspired series of poems from a few years back.

DAFFODIL DREAMS

/ deuxiemepeau / 10 Comments

 

I climb clouds
between the night’s blanketed sleep,
a billowing blossom of smoke
that never chokes the mountain moon,
where the world is a warm walk
through a blue breeze
and the only plight
is to find your path
within a forest of daffodils
on a prairie of peace.

On a prairie of peace
within a forest of daffodils,
beyond the billowing blossom of smoke
that never chokes the mountain moon,
I climb clouds
as a blue breeze uncloaks
the confusion of consciousness
and the sky glistens
with a golden glimpse of tomorrow
tipped in a topaz tempered truth.

I climb clouds
to sleep in a dream of daffodils.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a re post of one of my older poems