THE LIGHT IS TOO LIGHT

  Light leaks like water dripping from the faucet. You called me baby before you really knew me and stopped calling at all, afterwards drip… drip… nothing. Light lingers in quite corners like memories that refuse to flicker, not acknowledging that the night has fallen. We pour over each other like liquid on a perched […]

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COULD NOT HAVE BEEN MORE, I CAME TO THE CITY

  We held hands over hearts housed in other folds, ink had tipped another name into your flesh as we fell into holds, harbouring no more than musing moments, the south going north for something different, something foreign, someone fresh, perhaps that was all we ever were; a diversion from all that was defined, from […]

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TRUTH OR DARE, for Poetry Day Ireland

  It’s Poetry Day Ireland so I am supporting from abroad. This year’s theme is Truth or Dare and this final new poem recalls older days when this Irishman was still a growing boy on the streets of Paris…   Truth or Dare At 22 we locked the bar at 2am and turned empty bottles […]

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WHITE LIES

  What if I admitted to you, here and now, before I even begin, before I even let you in, that all I am about to tell you is a lie, perhaps white, perhaps a depth darker. What if I lay it all on the line, here and now, naked, the truth of all the […]

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BURNING STARS 

  We are liars, all and often, lying in folds familiar, hoping for holds to fill the failure, settled into settlements we never wanted but thinking something, anything, this thing is better than nothing, while the Poet prefers to pen the pessimism than to perish with it. And still we are liars, the pen turns […]

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I CAME TO THE CITY, PART 5; COULD HAVE BEEN MORE

  We held hands over hearts housed in other folds, ink had tipped another name into your flesh as we fell into holds, harbouring no more than musing moments, the south going north for something different, something foreign, someone fresh, perhaps that was all we ever were; a diversion from all that was defined, from […]

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SUMMER RAIN

  Left burning in a bed of broken limbs and lies winer was wild but her summer rain settled beneath his skin and sunk with a sting. All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly Poetry prompt of Summer Rain from @ShapePoetry on Twitter

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