FRIVOLOUS PHILANDERERS

Day 14; National Poetry Writing Month 30 new poems/30 Days #NaPoWriMo

I listen
to the river rushing,
pushing, washing,
I listen
to the water slipping,
seeping, weeping
over once regal rock
now withering, wuthering,
whispering.
I listen
to the water
trailing the last vestiges
of its veins
through what remains
of the terrains we’ve choke’n
taken and broken.
I listen
to the ferocious sound
of nature’s force
and hear the horse’s
gallop along the course;
the gallant getaway,
no longer blindly blinkered
to the frivolous philanderers,
the malicious meanders
of the bystanders
and their current commanders,
and in its hooves
I hear a wilderness at run
from the trampling of the gun,
the so-called fun
that has too soon undone
what the gods once begun.
I listen
to the rivers running
and realise
you can’t see the end
but you can hear it coming.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud:

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/frivolous-philanderers

 

THE BURNING WOOD

 

And so man
within his story,
with all his guts
and gluttoned glory,
failed to reach the heavens  
with his flying ships
and roaring weapons,
looking upwards, 
always upwards, 
never sideways,
never backwards,
never wondering 
how he stood
with his feet
in the burning wood,
on this one time fertile Earth
once filled with hope,
once filled with worth.

And the gods
laughed on high
from their positions
around the sky,
from their comets
in the clouds
encircling a world
now laid in shrouds 
and its curious little creatures 
with hungry hands
and augmented features,  
clambering and clawing
over cadavers, though always falling,
trying to catch a glimpse 
of what was lying
in wait on front of them
but missing the destruction
they were leaving
in their disruption.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken from a moving car somewhere near Balmoral, Scotland