Memory is a shot of stillness sealed behind a lens
that looks for what cannot be seen until it’s been frozen

by the frame.

Some see this as a season of rust and ruin and running
while I see a freedom in this fall and in every breeze
another breath to breathe brave into this body.

I will hang you on other walls, in other seasons
and you will hear me sing other songs to other suitors.

It doesn’t mean we never had our summer,
only that our spring was too short to be anything other

than sentimental.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly.

This month is about looking back so as to move on. A goodbye to Paris.



plant pot
the delicious decay
of decadence
once eyed as ochre
next to dandelions
in the dawn’s dew.
painted picture
of plants
in a porcelain pot
plays with the presence
of past
and present
under the preservation
of pressed paint.
Gold garnered
by the grace
of the sun,
amber’s earthiness
on route
to autumn’s rust,
careful creation
on canvas,
a fragile folly
the fall.


Words and oil painting by Damien B, Donnelly

23rd poem for National Poetry Writing Month



we gathered,
were gracious,
remember grateful
glowing into golden?
we shone
like sunsets
but stronger,
like starlight
but unstoppable.
but then the cold,
the callow, the cancer,
the kryptonite cramping
it’s claws into our comfort.
we were friendly,
fearless, ferocious,
until finally with a flash

came the fall!

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Inspired by the poetry prompt ‘Golden, Kryptonite, Flash’ from @_Sense_Wrds




through time,
through time
that can never be tempered,
through twisting trees and projected paths,
projecting thoughts yet to be pondered,
through mornings unfolding
while seasons fall to winter
and wither for a while all around me,
crisp carpets crinkle
with what was once light and leafy
but are now scattered sprinkles
of seasons shadows,
like thoughts once tasted
now toppled from the tongue
slipping underfoot;
from roots they rise only to return
as I break the silence
of early morning,
air crisp and clear,
cutting through motions of stillness
colours caught on careful carpets,
rust reigns regal
as orange opens into opulence,
opens into fragrance,
revels in its own resilience,
between the trunks,
below the benches
that have seen more time than I can wait for, than I can capture;
captured kisses,
paused breaths,
hands held,
all now scenes and scents seeping into the seated silence.
Running through forests,
all falling into that perfect promise
of pause and poise
all still while the earth turns, beauty below our feet

while we rage above it.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available at Soundcloud:


Screen Shot 2015-11-11 at 17.56.27

We twist and turn
as we tumble
into each other
away from ourselves
we are creature curious
entangled and entwined
in what others can offer
touching and tasting
trying hard to remove
the I’s from the us’s
we are covetous
we are envy
we are want
we are greed
we are ricochets
rocketing to-and-fro
between what we are
and what we crave
we twist and turn
and turn again
to the something new
the something shiny
the something still unseen
we twist and turn
and then we fall.

All words and layout by Damien B. Donnelly



He is forward flying,
A novice to noise
And nuances
Of staggering streets
Unknown and numerous,
Honed to the humming
From the surge and speed
Of manoeuvres he can
Meddle through
Mingle through
Move through

He is a nubile note,
A minor chord
In a major movement,
Braced for a rebirth
By foreign fingers
Forging him finally
Into a signature
Of sonic structure,
A rhythm and rhyme,
A tune to tingle
And temper him
And a chorus to call
And encourage him

He is a leaning leaf
Balanced on the brow
Of a branch, braced
For worthy winds
Of foreign fields
To find him, float him,
Carry him to clouds
And dive down deep
Forever after
Into the chaos
And cacophony
Of life and it’s longing
And the lust among the living

He is made of math,
The sum of every smile,
The addition and attrition
Of a world of worries,
The multiplication
Of a multitude of thoughts
Mixed and mumbled
And the subtraction
Of scars and fears,
He is the solution in full
The joy and the tears

He is the beating body
Of festering flesh,
Tasting and tasted,
Touched and taken,
He is the brittle bone
Stretched over skin
And the shroud of skin
Bound to the bone,
He is whole,
And hungry,
Growing, groaning, gaining,
Rotting, renewing reigning

He is the devil
In the darkness,
He is luminous
In the light,
He is the form
Finding features
In the forces
In between
The growing greys
And the shifting shades,
He is the something still unshaped,
He is the someone still unseen

He is forged of fire,
Flames flickering
In front of him
Fierce and unfailing
As the particled past
Blazes behind him
The life already lived
Echoing all that will finally fall
A hundred years from now
A forgetful fading
Of all he wanted to become
And all he managed to be,
Everything remembered
At once as the light descends
On the rise and fall of he.


All words and pictures by Damien B. Donnelly