Hope – Deuxiemepeau Poetry by Damien B. Donnelly

Building a Dream into a Poetry Collection – Writing.ie

I am so grateful to http://www.writing.ie who gave me the opportunity to share the story of building my dreams into poetic realities that took Eat the Storms from being penned to being published as my debut collection by The Hedgehog Poetry Press. Below is the link to the multifaceted Irish writer’s information and resource online […]

by deuxiemepeau

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY – EAT THE STORMS CATCHES COLOUR BY A CASTLE

All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly and Storms gave permission to be photographed!

by deuxiemepeau

EAT THE STORMS – LAUNCH DAY – VISUAL STIMULATION- CATCH COLOUR

All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly, Jardin des Serres, Paris

by deuxiemepeau

THE HAND OF HUME

I was in Paris at the time- drawing rabbits on chalkboards in an Irish pub, on a Friday, in a cut-off corner of Chinatown. Joanna had studied in Queens, Mum was over from Dublin and Anna and I had promised each other forever friends though we barely survived the slow pull of a decent […]

by deuxiemepeau

MY THREE FATES

I- The original Water floods flesh From carnal comes forth creation Washed in sin and they watch. In judgement Water releases hold Sign away the rights to his name II- The Second Coming Tears flood drained desert She will be an ocean once more Blood […]

by deuxiemepeau

LIMITATION OF ROSES

I had the biggest bedroom as a boy but curiosity picked the box room at the lighter end of the short corridor for my summer’s sojourn. I was always looking for other walls that caught the shadows of other lives being lived- to touch the thought, at that time, was tantamount to taking part. […]

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KNUCKLE KNOTTED LIBERTY

A navy jumper, twice monthly washed, a blue shirt and striped tie with a red thread. Grey trousers growing tighter though not getting any longer. I was 12 in patient leather shoes with points to piece the playground’s pricks, all sweaty under pit and after-school spit and fearless, only, in the face of other […]

by deuxiemepeau

SOMETIMES ITS DANGEROUS TO CONSIDER HOW TO BREATHE

There are clear patches in the sacred soil at the far end of the side garden where life is expected to return. We planted it last week. There are clear patches in the soft sky behind clever clouds that carry the condensation I covet for those bald patches in the tilled soil where there […]

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BIRD SONG

I stroll in soft sundown across the cushioned grass, the earth a pillow I never stopped to consider, I consider going in, inside to where the light looks neat and named but a bird calls from a branch I cannot see, sight comes in second after his song- soft, slow and cycling back on […]

by deuxiemepeau

FINDING THE RIGHT COLOUR TO PAINT HOPE

Silly things sabotaged for the case of creativity- barren bark becomes blank canvas becomes blue becomes oceanic becomes bewitching monster of humour and not hurt. This is the crisis of clearing out, not shelving all that will come to know stale, but for shedding. Sheds are no longer for the simplicity of storage but […]