QUACK

 

Solitude will guard gentle breath
as I slip from darkened day to dream,
even if the daffodil, now bright upon the bank,
comes despite concern.
I smile as the memory of this kindhearted bloom
unfolds within the shadows of this stilled room,
here, where corners ponder the importance of a cell.
In the distance, I hear a duck quack
as I return to the credit of comfort the pillow provides
and close my eyes to the sounds of madness.

 

Written as part of the Cobh Writers and Readers #PoetryPrompt featured on Twitter. Do drop by and join in the creative distraction. @CobhWR

SNOW WHITE

 

I saw you, one morning,
blanketed in white,

a speckled canvas of virgin purity,
all colour lost out to a simpler shade of simplicity.
No more that magnificent mass of contrast and contradiction,
just quiet and gentle unencumbered distinction.

Distant laughter carried on a breeze
swirling round trees caught motionless in time,
branches bare but for the kind kisses of that slow falling snow.

I saw you like this, one ordinary morning,
as tears formed icicles on my face, snowflakes falling
from your skies to hide your valleys and hills

as my feet disappeared beneath the snow-white earth.

I saw you, like this, one extra ordinary morning,
and that long lost smile

reappeared.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Merry Christmas everybody, Dami xx

BOOKENDS; ALL THE WATER CARRIES OFF WITH IT

 

There will always be a part of me
standing by the water’s edge,
watching how much of us
got washed away and wondering

how much more sunk so deep
below the surface that it is now
a captive more to your careful concrete
than that ever coldly cutting current.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly.

This has been a month of saying goodbye to Living with Paris in order to move on. And so Stephen Sondheim comes to mind and the lyrics of the song Move On from the musical Sunday in the Park with George, based on Georges Seurat…

‘Stop worrying where you’re going, move on…
look at what you want, not at where you are,
not at what you’ll be…

I want to move on, I want to explore the light
I want to know how to get through, through to something new,
something of my own, move on…’

 

Here’s to getting through to the light and the newness and moving on. See you all on the other side… 

Dami xx

BOOKENDS; A CITE OR A SHADOW

 
A city and a shadow, a choice; to stay or leave,

to concede and crown myself as conquered and then be crushed
or to continue on as committed commuter,

to be complacent
or constantly curious for more light so as to comprehend the darkness,

to break down the barrier between all there is to fear
and come, face to face, with all there is to be.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly

This month is about looking back to see how I can move forward. A final goodbye to Paris before moving to Ireland. 

BOOKENDS; A SHADE CAUGHT IN THE SHADOW

 

I walk in circles now, following paths forward that crossover
roads I once considered. Time trips onward but no longer
is the line straight, no longer a captive of direct. This light
is lit now like a last lap, here, in this place once prized,
once positioned next to pride on platforms now too proud
to be passed off as plausible. I’m on the count-down to lift-off
while still turning corners teased with reflections that once shone

with the shade of an old shadow long since shed.

       

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

 This month is about looking back in order to move on, shedding old shadows to make room for fresh frames, a farewell to Living with Paris

BOOKENDS; TO BE ABLE TO PERCEIVE THE SUGGESTION OF EVENTUAL ADAPTION

 

Even on wrong turns, detours; damp and derailed,
along red lines I knew would rattle,
sojourns into subterranean thoughts
of finding forever in a place that only held a past

there was still a steady stream of perception,
a suggestion of adaption
worn into walls that never would.

The tunnels were only ever to be temporary.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly.

This month is about looking into the shadow to find the light. I first moved to Paris at 22, left at 24 and returned at 40 thinking it would be last stop, rest, relax. But it turned out to be just another tunnel along this track of life. Next stop… Ireland; Boy Returns as Man.

BOOKENDS; YOU MUST FINISH WRITING THE STORY BEFORE YOU CAN PUT A COVER ON THE BOOK

 

So many sunsets.
I kissed you goodbye but forever never followed,
I thought us broken but we were just bookends
looking for a final story to stack between the regard
and the lack of regret.

I kissed you again, later, after leaving, after returning
but before going, again, and the water stopped.

I caught our reflection for a moment, in all that stillness,
in all we had held of each other but then I blinked
or you rippled

and, all at once, we were done.

   

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly.

This month is about reflections. I moved to Paris, the first time, when I was 22 and stayed for 2 years and then circled back around to this city of shadow and light again at 40. This year will be the final chapter as I pack up the boxes and consider Ireland as home again after 23 years. Who knows if there will be another story to tell of us one day…