WHAT LIES IN THE VALLEY

 

Truth, lies, tall tales spread across the canyon
of our sighs. My hope, your hurt, my side,
your silence, nothing is distinguishable in this void,
I cannot even identity any let up from the winter
of this valley where the wind winds its way around
the silent subtleties of how you express your hurt
and how I hold my hope- foolishly, foolish, fool
or fooled. We are both breakable and some parts
dissolvable while riding horseback across this canyon
whose cracks are cavernous, two cowboys believing
more in disguise, in the delusions and so we sweep
into such deluge. Somewhere, in between this valley,
somewhere, down below this wind, still tangible,
there is a bridge that crosses the truth of our lies,
bashful and broken. But we don’t want to find it

anymore.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO. 14, NAPOWRIMO

 

I hear you crying

from the runway,

as you tried to run away,

I was already off 

a fold on the wings of flying

while you sat there, waiting

and crying,

wishing colour was

no more than a past 

you could turn from.

I hear you crying 

above these clouds 

I am trying to reach 

the other side of,

moving west from east

as you fall south of north,

shivering in a skin 

you cannot slip from,

in a city with a grip 

to quickly crippling,

but geography is not 

morphology, we are bound

to the bones we are born of,

we cannot kill our kin 

to be kinder or simply 

slip from our skin to be whiter.

I hear you crying 

but I was already off

flying, we are the creators 

of our own clouds 

and can only conquer them 

with a calm courage and not 

just a quick comfort

that comes a calling 

in the cold corner

of our own confusion.

I heard you crying 

and wonder 

if I will remember you 

when you have taken to flying?

All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly

HOOKED

 

Time washes onwards

but I recall each wave

I welcomed

over body

like a cover of comfort

like a blanket of trust,

a surrender to the water

warm, deep breath and dive

without drowning,

I recall each wave

but forget

how far it swept

from the shore,

 

how it left

each time

with a wanting

for more

as I drifted further

though I cannot swim

 

I am only fool

not fish

and how you fished…

 

how your hook cut

so deep.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud…

CAST ALONG

 

Lost in a current
capricious,
a cast of confusion,
but the river
remembers its route.
The water wades
into the ocean
& the drifting ends.

All words and photograph by Damien B. Donnelly

Inspired by a Twitter prompt from #WrittenRiver

A COLD KISS

 

I hung you
from the rafters
in the corner by the door,
the flower
all fine and false
that you thought I would adore,
but your hand
was all I wanted
and your kiss to keep the most,

but I was dead
and you were living
and you said you wouldn’t

kiss a ghost.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Inspired by a Twitter prompt “Ghost” from #Micropoetry

STILL WATER 

 

We were like water:
rushing, rubbing
against bed and bank,
running; to get to nowhere,
not knowing where,
not knowing
we were already there.
We were like water;
no longer running,
our tale
withering on the river.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

UPSIDE DOWN

Day 10: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

Screen Shot 2017-03-25 at 22.36.01

Happiness

endless happiness

harboured in holds of hope             hampers of harmony

hampers of…             hampered happiness

heaped under hammer             hindered

happiness         and less happiness         and less

under spotlight             soundless             motionless             while all is in movement

happiness cannot be held             in streaming eyes

happiness should not fall             tear drops are not tender

see them falling             falling             falling

for you             for all             for everyone             for nothing and no-one

happy to have hope

happy             endless happiness

endless happiness             and less             happiness

and less             and…
                                    less visible.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

FORGETTING TO REMEMBER

 

There are words
caught in his throat
that he cannot speak
or swallow,

there are thoughts
once captured
and cradled
now fallen from his mind,

and butterflies flap in the garden.

There are names
once rooted in his heart
now wilting like leaves
at the onset of autumn,

there are places
that once held prestige
that have tumbled from memory
like crumbling ruins.

Butterflies flap in the garden,
and, like all that is fragile,
they will one day fly off on the wind.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio available on SoundCloud:

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/forgetting-to-remember

TIME TEMPERED

Retrograde ripples
swim me back to days
when a certain light could cut
the shadows in a single movement,
when your touch was like cool water
poured over feverish flesh below orange
walls that watched us sinking onto a single soul.
Terracotta tempered
with summer shadows
as streets twist and turn,
as I twist and turn and burn,
even in the shade, with shadows
and shades of you and those days
now reduced to simply recessive ripples
slouching towards the bottom of a city sinking.

 

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph taken in Venice, Italy

Audio version available on Soundcloud

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/time-tempered