THE NEW NORMAL ROUTINE

  Input- daily. Early morning. Wake up to bird call and input ideas for the new day. Run. Write. Weights. Wash. Garden. Grass. Weeds. No Smoking. More Chopping. Manic. Now move indoors. Pottering. Pacing. Painting and onto poetry. Moving out again from bedroom. Old room. Once far room. Cold room, where someone died once, before […]

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BRIGHT LIGHTS IN GARDEN PONDS

  Stars dance at the bottom of the back garden where the rain waits in shallow ponds for the earth to lick it dry. Reflections are dependent on position- you cannot catch the moon lying on the ground from the front window where the sun lingered a little longer today than the tear stained back […]

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THE SHADOW OF LIGHT

  Light is changeable. Can be changed. Exchanged. We cut down stress in the back garden of our woes, in the back garden so neighbours cannot see our fears spread out across the lawn. We stew it out in solitude so we can shine later after the dust has found its antidote, after the touch […]

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WORDLESS WEDNESDAY, PICTURING PARIS

  Journée du patrimoine 2019 (European days of Heritage) Saturday morning at: École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux Arts de Paris… Chapelle des Petits-Augustins… Cour de Murier… Cour Vitree… Amphitheatre d’Honneur  Bibliotheque… All photographs by Damien B Donnelly

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WORDLESS WEDNESDAY, JARDIN DES SERRES, PARIS

  All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly A lot of photographs, I know, I did edit, I promise, I took over 250 photos in about an hour while skipping like a 4 year-old around the place that was practically empty. I think this might be the city’s best kept secret and ‘how dare you’ Roland […]

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ENTANGLEMENTS

There is beauty and there is decay, they are gardeners of the same plot, seeking sustenance from the same sun, shade from the same soil, one awaits the wonder of the weather, the other; weathered by her ticking thunder. There is beauty and there is decay, they are inseparable, one holding fast to its height, […]

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DELICATE THINGS

  There are violets in lullabies caressing windows where once only sleeping notes lay There are songs in springtime seducing summer in gardens where all colour was grey There are violets awaking on walls now a witness to the orchestra of nature at play. There are violets on strings, on sweet subtle strings, simplicity reassured […]

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