Gardens grow,
trees get taller,
clouds gather.

I see you
in the movement,
in the air that rushes past time turning,
in the scent of sweetened summer
now swept into corners now shaded.

Clouds gather,
trees get taller,
gardens grow smaller.

Eden is an illusion lost.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a repost for a week looking at clouds 


We drink eternity,

soft, slow, salty,

like coffee cups

of unexplored ocean blues,

breathing in dark stars,

bleeding in the wake

of the wild breeze

that has no home

in these fatherless trees,

eyes moist by this window of time,

a prisoner of this smoky glass.

We are porcelain colored in concrete,

a brilliant blush of delirious desire

before decay.

All words by Damien B. Donnelly and gifted from today’s magnetic poetry oracle.



Changing currents,
currently, body and soul
converging concurrently,
control lost to illusion;
divinity divining, dividing delusion
directing hands of fate
or falling me from faith,
body leaning in
bending to all beckoning.
Was it I who let go
of love’s hand or had fate decided so?

Was there a choice,
considered, consecrated, a confession
would I, could I be called up for blame?

In letting go,
I fell to freedom,
funny how freedom drops you,
seemingly untangled,
from the knot undone and I come undone,
at a loss, undefinable or redefined?

Partially salvageable, this time.
Selfishness slipping into single state
celibate, (sold a lot)
with no one to consider,
to hold, to cherish, to love.

What is love when you lay alone?
Where does love lay when you are alone?
Alone, love is where there are no more lies.


All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly



Curious are the occasions 
you come into consciousness, 
like colours caught 
out of season, without 
a reason you slip in 
between the solace 
to accentuate the silence,
the stillness and the distance.
Curious are the occasions 
you come into consciousness,
like lyrics lost
to their line, without
reason or rhyme, you are mine
through the miles, a million
smiles emerging for time
to divide, derail and deride.

Curious are the occasions
you come into consciousness,
like a photo forgotten
then found as if to remind,
to rebound on possibilities
pondered, attachments
attempted and those
connections long cemented.

Curious are the occasions 
you come into consciousness,
like a hold that can be held 
in hindsight, and suddenly
there is kindness in the place
of confusion, comfort
in the place of exclusion,
hope in between the illusion…

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Listen to the audio version on Soundcloud: