All photographs by Damien B Donnelly
Wordless Wednesday, Rush, Dublin ,Ireland
Dublin
WORDLESS WEDNESDAY- THE SALUTING SUN AT THE END OF AUGUST BY THE COAST AND UNDER THE CLIFFS
All photos by Damien B Donnelly
WORDLESS WEDNESDAY, IRISH COASTLINE, LOUGHSHINNY
All photos by Damien B. Donnelly
BLOOMSDAY; A BIT OF ULYSSES TRIP AROUND DUBLIN
James Joyce Martello Tower, Sandycove, opening of Ulysses, Telemachus- with Stephen, Buck, Haines and the Milk Woman
The Forty Foot, from the opening chapter
The Door of Eccles Street, home to Leopold and Molly Bloom now in the James Joyce Museum
Sandymount and Strand from Proteus with Stephen Dedalus
Formerly the spot of Nelson’s Pillar, now the Spire in O’Connelly Street opposite the GPO where Bloom, under the pseudonym of Henry Flower ,collects a letter
The General Post Office, O’Connell Street
The National Museum where Leopold Bloom escapes Blazes Boland in Chapter 8
The National Library from chapter 9 featuring Leopold Bloom and Stephen and ‘Hamlet’
Sweny, the chemist where Bloom buys Lemon Scent Soap and his wife’s lotion in ‘Lotus Eaters’
Glasnevin Cemetery for Paddy Dignam’s funeral
The Wooden Bridge out to Bull Island which Stephen Dedalus crosses in The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, prior to the timings of Ulysses
The James Joyce Center, Dublin
Haiku at Jame Joyce Museum
Joyce remembered at Moli, Museum of Literature, Ireland
All photographs of Joyces’ Dublin by Damien B. Donnelly
BLOOMING SHADES
Everything is cyclical like sunlight and seasons
and hair styles and hemlines. Everything is cyclical.
I found you at the first turn- a pencil line on a blank canvas
by an academic of fine fashion with a fringe of falling violets,
it was the back side of the Botanics, at the later side of winter,
all grey, even then, back in my untasted youth, even there,
surrounded by all that should have been blooming green
but I just saw the shadow between the black and the white,
the empty bench in between the bark, not the blossom sitting
a frame away, left side, across the bridge, more to the main path.
Roads, wood and diverges and me-
always looking for another way out.
Everything is cyclical like creation and country and going out
and then coming home again and again. Everything is cyclical.
I found you recently, again, on a green day, later, when my hair
was greyer but my soul a sway more centred towards the violet.
I stole a piece of you, this time, on film but when I looked back,
after coming home, I noticed how I’d caught you in that shade,
that former shade found in between the black and the white.
Everything is cyclical like births and blossoms and sometimes
belonging and sometimes colour when it’s blooming grey.
All words, drawing and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
POETRY DAY IRELAND
Tomorrow is Poetry day Ireland but as we can’t go out and do our thing, we are staying in and doing our thing anyway.
Poetry time at Alan Hanna’s Bookshop in Dublin will be online and celebrating from 11am onwards on Thursday. Catch us on twitter and instagram and Facebook and anywhere we can make a post and share of poetry. And it’s all about our favourite books.
There will even be poems and links and videos and maybe a mini movie. So don’t sleep through the day- come join in the fun…
I’ll be the one dressed like this…
SOUTH CIRCULAR ROAD, DUBLIN 1995
I slipped recently onto an old road
that had circled back onto my diverted path
to find myself at first flat, basement floor,
25 years grown between us like the weeds
in the forgotten garden where I looked to see
if the cobbles still recalled my sole
before remembering how, on winter nights
that seemed bluer than black,
in hallowed hallway, I’d sit by the payphone,
juggling coins in jars of naivety and watch the lights
from the traffic flood the darkness like a fanfare
through the curved window above the door
and dream of how it would feel to slip, finally,
from streets that simply circled.
I slipped recently onto an old road,
happy to discover that even diverted paths
know how to accept circles as something to grow
to love, like certain weeds that complement
the cobbles where I found a part of my soul, sitting.
Waiting for me to call back.
All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly
WORDLESS WEDNESDAY; DAYS IN DUBLIN
All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
A POEM IN THE ORGANIC POET
Happy Sunday to you all and Happy Saint David’s Day to any Welsh ones out there.
Last week I was invited to be the guest poet by the The Organic Poet. This is a wonderful platform celebrating positivity and togetherness.
My poem is called Sweet Things and highlights the joys I am still rediscovering after my return to Dublin, Ireland. Please take a moment and stop by if you have time, They are curating a lovely collection of artists. Clink below…
https://www.theorganicpoet.com/post/sweet-things-by-deuxiemepeau
WORDLESS WEDNESDAY; NATIONAL BOTANIC GARDENS, DUBLIN
All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Damien B. Donnelly 