We catch cords
like lungs lunge
towards the air,
as if we would be
nothing
without something
to hold on to.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Hold
CAST OFF
–
Along the river bed,
long running with water
already washed through our hands,
–
long is not the hold we have to harbour,
–
long running with this water
no longer light at its level,
no longer smooth along its sands,
–
along this bend of river
I cast into the current, like a kiss
no longer catchable,
this weight no longer workable,
now on route to dissolvable.
–
From breath to bubble,
bobbing
bubbles,
from breath to bubble and then trouble,
then off they blow,
splashing as they sparkle
and splutter on to spent.
I cast you into this current,
where shamrock slips to sapphire,
to let the past depart,
not sad of heart, not hard,
just a shadow of blue
in a bend of the bank
at the edge of expire.
–
To slip from soul like a skin
now shredded from recognition,
a cast off of character no longer cast
in this current condition.
We knit until we are knotted,
we weave patterns;
loops locked under chains,
some stitches saved and others slipped,
connected to a comfort
until they struggle under strains,
–
a fragile filigree
we cannot always wear,
hands can only hold
what wants to be held,
we are not fortunate
for the future to foresee,
we can not always follow,
sometimes even sheep
must make their own route
before they are wound as wool
or substance to swallow,
–
even the river bed must turn, in time,
twist at others, we are no straight line
but a collection of corrections
cast on and cast off,
kick off
pay off
drop off.
–
We are more than characters
or thinly drawn caricatures,
I am more than this flesh you see,
you see; I can fester or I can be free.
–
I shed this skin of a former self,
here by the edge of this river running,
running onwards, searching for its shore,
searching for something more,
for its share of the truth,
I shed this skin to let the other
parts of me find their sea.
–
I cast into the river bed
this weight so the rest
can float and form and be.
All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly
Audio version available on SoundCloud:
TEDDIES AND TIDES
–
I held on so long to a comfort
stuffed into the curve of my arm,
on nights when no one noticed
the child behind this mask of man.
I held on to a space outdated,
to a void I thought I’d vacated,
crouching into a cramped corner
of considered claustrophobia,
convinced I was more the victor
than the victim
–
(at times we can be both).
–
I held on so long to a tear
I thought time had torn but tides
are temperamental, unlike teddies,
they fold back on themselves
and we are swept again under, later,
long after, as if they had waited
to defy expectation
–
(we are experts at expecting to be the exception).
–
No one and nothing drowns
in the first wave. All and everything
is a cycle, tides come and go
and then return to take some more.
We are children and then adults
until adults lost in longing,
longing to understand the hold
of the child behind this mask of man.
–
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
HALF LIGHT, HALF NIGHT, day 17 of A Month with Yeats
Today’s quote for Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats comes from ‘Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven’. ‘The blue and the dim and the dark cloths of night and light and the half-light,’ —W.B. Yeats
Jane’s blog is: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2017/11/17/a-month-with-yeats-day-seventeen/
My poem is called HALF LIGHT, HALF NIGHT
And time finds them folded
between all that had been lost
and the hope of what yet might come.
And night finds them falling
between the dark clouds covering
and the hands that caress their bodies.
And the kiss finds them feeding
on a hunger they thought exhausted
beneath the truth the darkness can’t hide.
And in the half light,
half starved,
he fell beneath her dark cloths
cast in shadow
as if half forgotten,
half starved
for that blue light
once burning bright
in the dimming night.
And in the half light,
half jarred,
she sank beneath his old hold,
reborn in bold,
no longer
half accepting
that half starved
was the whole picture
as their hunger
pulled them tight.
And in the half light,
half scarred
from being alone but not alive
in this scrapyard,
they each half held
that half light,
half bright
and held each other
in a hope
below the night.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
MOMENT AFTERWARDS
In absence
lips lean out
in longing,
clouds gathering,
a chill in the air,
the warmth slipping.
Memory is a playful thing,
you tease and turn
over and back to before.
We kissed,
I feel it intensely,
I see it clearly
in the mirror
still marked
from a night now over.
Cold showers
call out
from the falling rain,
seasons come and go.
Moments linger longer.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
LIQUID RHYTHM
Expanding on the magnetic poetry oracle…
Need is hard
(to give in to
that craving for connection)
‘Not yet,’ I said (to Time,
teasing along twitching ties),
‘Drink me not, dark angel’
(we are light still and far from brewed).
Joy is a dance
of liquid rhythm
(lithe are we, fluid forms falling into arms
not always favouring hold),
hearts bleed when opened
(steel we are not, though hard are we
to mould into mutual).
‘Make us a secret
though our embrace is concrete
so maybe we (can) linger longer,
(let’s drink ourselves slowly,
regardless of how time ticks roughly).
All words by Damien B. Donnelly
DEEPLY ROOTED
In a patch of the park
bench and bark are bound
like hands that once held hearts
on seats in summer
when days were only dawning
in times now twisted
into memory like roots
now turning in the turf
beneath bench and bark
in a patch of the park.
In a patch of this earth
shadows slip over soil
and all that once was
whispers on the breeze…
Break the benches
where we once rested,
cut down the trees
where we once sheltered
but roots,
roots are like hearts held
their impressions last longer
than benches and barks
in patches on parks.
All words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available on SoundCloud:
FLEETS OF TIME
Touch tenderness
such tenderness
touch time
such fleeting time
tender the time we take to touch
we touch so tenderly through fleeting time
through fleets of time
like sailing ships
caressing seas
amid serenity
amid storms
such storms
stay the storms
time will teach us what we can weather
whether the waves will wash over us
or tear us down
each tear can fill an ocean with tears
each touch can bring us closer to the shore.
We sink or swim in time
though time
through this fleeting time
in tender holds
caressing
and touching tears
digressing.
Touch tenderness
touch time
so tough to hold tenderness throughout time.
All words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available at Soundcloud:
CATCH THE KISSES
Catch cotton kisses
blowing briefly over bodies
on beds, on beaches
basking, baking.
Catch kisses
cuddled in cotton sheets
freshly laid kisses
caressing carefully closed curtains.
Kisses cuddled
on sandy beaches as tides tick through time,
tickling time
with waves washing over us.
Clean, crisp
cotton kisses, candy kisses,
too delicious to last too long,
long kisses
on cotton sheets, worn with laughter,
folds of light laughter,
making movements of moments,
moving moments,
catch the moments
of bodies on beds, on beaches
where tides kiss toes,tickle toes,
wash away woes.
Summer kisses,
cotton candy kisses
on soft sheets of surrender,
like the sand surrenders to the shore,
like the sea caresses the sand,
kisses
in waves never lasting
though sinking so deep
below the surface.
All words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available on Soundcloud:
BLUE
And there, by the winding road, it watched
and there, by the rushing waters, it took anchor
and there, neath commuting clouds, it found no freedom,
her song; locked to the land
waiting as the tides retreated
wailing as the breeze bolted
out onwards and over
always and forever
while there, by the winding road, by the edge of the baying blues
her song;
bound to the shore
unlike the tide
unlike the tempest
unlike the sands of time
blue said the sea
not I said the sky
nor I said the clouds
nor I said the sand
but I sang the song
there on the shore
her song forever tied
forever more…
All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Photograph taken in Skerries, Co. Dublin, Ireland
Damien B. Donnelly 