knowledge – Deuxiemepeau Poetry by Damien B. Donnelly

TO COME TO THE TABLE

Knowledge is not an end in itself Some of the best books have made me yawn- After Nietzsche I needed a nap And Joyce makes me question often My ability to comprehend the written word. Perhaps that was always his aim. Knowledge is not an end in itself No jump is ever made after […]

by deuxiemepeau

SUPREME

I loved China Beach, as a boy and its opening theme tune- Miss Ross belting out her light voice; Reflections of the way life used to be, reflections of… I was too young then to understand anything deeper than the melody that rose in me while the meaning sank, of an age then that […]

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THE LIGHT INSIDE THE BOOKS

I found where they keep the light- here, at the far end of the long road, just up from childhood summers near slip-away shores, contained in a considered space where books are bound to interest and cosy corners tipped in velveteen seductions of blue that does anything but chill. Funny, to find this here, […]

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BOOKENDS; TIMING IS EVERYTHING

Coming in is easy. Learning when to leave is an art not easily understood. All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly This month is about getting ready to leave Paris, for good. Today will also be my last day as pattern maker at the Paris fashion design atelier of & Other […]

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THE CARETAKER

High on a hilltop, you climb above your age and whisper the wisdom of your ancestors like its wealth (hush, I say, to hear the humble) worn words as woven into the earth as the roots of the trembling trees standing to support those above it. High on a hilltop, a former teacher caresses […]

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LISTEN

We cannot truly change that which we are, we cannot really laugh louder, be brighter, stay longer than our journey has already jotted down in a journal whose language is not our own. We cannot truly change the air, the ocean, the fire that forges its way through us, leaving us inspired or expired, […]

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THE BEAT OF THE BAT

The brighter man, the lighter man, the darker truth, the deeper vein, bind me to the rough, the real man, I beat as a bat. The clearer glass, elusive glass, the broken bed, the better lay, tie me to the rider, all night, I beat like a bat. The gentle rose, considered rose, the […]

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SCARLET RISING

Eat the storms, Mother said, boil these beds of bitter blackness until the dream rips through the rain and translucent turns to trust, even a diamond must ache in the darkness until compression can no longer compound its shine. Eat the storms, Mother said, slip the shivering skin out under shimmering sky until touch […]

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THE CHILD INSIDE THE MAN, day 27 of A Month with Yeats

It’s day 27 of Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats which means all of us who’ve taken part in this fantastic poetry challenge have created 27 new poems inspired by Ireland’s greatest poet. Today’s quote is: ‘Once more the storm is howling, and half hid under this cradle-hood and coverlid my child sleeps on.’ […]