JONI MITCHELL – Deuxiemepeau Poetry by Damien B. Donnelly

BOOKENDS; EVEN IN THE FINAL FALL THERE CAN STILL BE A SPARKLE

I sit in between streets, in between ageing and learning, learning to forget and trying to remember, eating time before it’s cleared away as people pass, some looking and leaning, some desiring to linger, longer, not knowing I’m soon to be going, not noting I’ve been removed from the menu, replaced in his city […]

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BOOKENDS; GOLDEN GREENS IN THE GARDEN OF GREEDY YOUTH

In days now distant, we were one floor up, apartment dwellers whose viewless windows revealed to us more than the darkness that tried to appeal to us. Tambourine Therese tapped her tunes of truths not yet tasted, tumble leaves freshly fallen from the trees in the apple orchard of golden greens begging to be […]

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BOOKENDS; BOY SO BLUE

Sitting in a park in Paris, France as kids climb trees they’ll soon outgrow and birds busy their feathers in a dance of freedom we’ll never know. I fall through thoughts as someone tickles strings on cords too distant to be discovered and wonder where you sat; on the orange carpeted concerns of the […]

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GONE, THE GARDEN

Gone is the garden, we are paved now in parts no longer potential to growth, to goodness. And the crow caws in the corner, flesh festering into feather. Gone is the garden, we have paved paths over all that was precious while thinking thoughtless, if only we’d thought less about what we wanted and […]

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POTTERS ON THE ROAD

I am free in the morning, in this morning town, waking, slipping from slumber like skin from sheets, like wings above clouds conquering concerns that come a calling and I am falling upwards, falling in love with light can feel it sparkling, even at day break, even when days break, falling for all that […]

by deuxiemepeau

BOY SO BLUE

Sitting in a park in Paris, France as kids climb trees they’ll soon outgrow and birds busy their feathers in a dance of freedom we’ll never know. I fall through your thoughts as someone tickles strings on cords too distant to be discovered and wonder where you sat; on the orange carpet caressed by […]

by deuxiemepeau

THIS HISSING IN THE SUMMER

Summer as the city slips into slumber, after last night’s thunder, as skin slides from winter’s shawls and shackles and pitches itself proudly in parks where not even dogs bark, where shadows have sunk into sweaty soil as feverish fingers smooth skin with soothing oil. Summer in the city and temperatures are oozing over […]