Connection – Page 2 – Deuxiemepeau Poetry by Damien B. Donnelly

BOOKENDS; ALL THE WATER CARRIES OFF WITH IT

There will always be a part of me standing by the water’s edge, watching how much of us got washed away and wondering how much more sunk so deep below the surface that it is now a captive more to your careful concrete than that ever coldly cutting current. All words and […]

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BOOKENDS; TO DARE TO REMEMBER

Do you remember Paris on occasions when spring sweeps in with its breath of those lost days, in that other life, before we knew London together or what it would be like to part? Do you, do you remember Paris, my little room, our lithe love and the plans we painted onto canvases of […]

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BOOKENDS; TO BE CAST IN SOMETHING OTHER THAN CONCRETE

Would he cry now for the concrete that has taken root in reality, this was never what inspired his impression. I shiver sometimes when I slip to the edge of this shore where George saw more in suggestion and Stephen gave names to the dots. Balance and harmony are hopes, not foundations but you […]

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BOOKENDS; THIERRY’S LINE

One ordinary, rather hot summer night, nothing special, nothing different, in my mind I ran my finger down the line of hair that ran from your chest before disappearing beneath your shorts as the breeze blew open your shirt and I caught the smile in your eye as you read thoughts. You, with your […]

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BOOKENDS; WHERE WE CAN GO WHEN WE BECOME MASTERS OF WHO WE ARE

Some scenes we are stuck with like that hand in that taxi as we left the city I hadn’t said goodbye to. Whose hand did you think you were holding, didn’t you know what you’d found hadn’t yet been formed? Some scents are forever tied to necks where we’ve left traces of our lips, […]

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SHORT STORIES OF FEAR; BETWEEN THE PANES

A short story The wife. I am a wife. I am a mother. There is a brown house with a red picket fence surrounding it that has our name upon the old fashioned and outdated post box. I can’t remember ever really receiving post. Real post; letters stamped with fondness and posted with a hope […]

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IN THE SEOUL

This city does not sleep, the wind as wistful as thoughts I cannot gather, here, on this sojourn to the south of Seoul. Horns honk along highways waking drivers out of daydreams the night can’t decipher and we buckle up and giggle briefly in back seats but I cannot distinguish those star-bound lanterns hung […]