Imagination is forgotten
as we grow
into compromise, into concrete,
cities cover the condemned
in a cloud of conditioning
and leaves the child
imprisoned in us all.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
concrete
FLAP AND SNAP
Daddy
didn’t know how to say it,
didn’t know how to do it,
Daddy didn’t know how to ask it,
but Daddy knew how to break it,
like it broke before, like they
broke him before, like they beat him
to the floor
and the butterfly flaps his wings
in confusion in the garden
they covered in concrete
when they couldn’t afford
the flowers to decorate it.
Daddy
didn’t know how to do it,
how to show it, how to feel it,
and then they thought
he didn’t need it,
cause she didn’t need it,
not then, not later, not after,
not from him who frowned at laughter
and the butterfly snaps her wings
in the back yard that’s soon to be
a cracked yard and she blames him
for all that went wrong as if
she’d never asked him
for anything, ever.
And they’re both
high on lies
in the back yard,
flapping and snapping
and wondering how this all happened.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
BOUND
We are to the road bound,
paved in method,
measure and movement,
we dig trenches,
turn earth and choke
with cement (no joke).
We are to the light drawn,
toward the harbour,
the heat and the hope,
bound to shore,
to security, to bath
and body (to stroke).
We are seekers of shelter
along this helter-skelter,
cutting comfort
into concrete forms,
wombs become rooms
become homes
filled with customs
we become cocooned in,
a bed to lay our burdens on
and rest our bodies (still stroking) in.
Each morning another blanket
folds over yesterday’s shadows
(light, bright till night finds flight),
each morning another curtain
opens on the dream waiting
at the end of another road
to which we will be,
once again, bound to.
We are bound to follow
the paths we are painstakingly paving.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
LONG DAYS
Beauty bays
in the back gardens
of concrete
we’ve created,
simplicity shouting
from the shadows
of cites under siege,
precious petals
pulsing with potential,
lines of light longing
add contrast to contour,
like age adds interest.
Long days, lonely,
waiting to be witnessed
by more than just
the falling rain…
We all are beauty,
bending to the light,
bursting to be seen.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Inspired by a Twitter poetry prompt from #ShapePoetry
COLOUR ON CURT CORNERS, PART 5; COLOURED SHOWERS
Lilac showers
Parisian walls
to lift the day
from tones of grey,
colours whisper
to hungry minds
from lithesome leaves
to planting seeds,
branches bound
like blood to body,
to walls so willing
like veins now filling,
lilac leans
with leaves of green,
gently swaying,
thoughts are weighing,
nature bends
to hear my call
and pens take flight
on lines at night.
All Words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available on Soundcloud:
THE GREEN BELT
Like bodies for burial, on belts
conveying commodities
to congested communities,
shrubs are shrouded
in sheets of plastic
that will not perish,
in weather
that can now only wither,
along concrete
too painful to penetrate,
as brick and beast
tower over twig and tree.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Damien B. Donnelly 