All Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
All photographs taken in Paris, France
nature
UNDER LEAF IN THE GARDEN
Here in this garden
beneath the trunks of trees, towering;
like funnels stretched to sun, suckling,
under a lid of leaves,
little leaves, light leaves,
the leaves of grass,
precious petals procure colour,
caresses of colour bursting bright
as if tempered by a tenuous touch,
like tears on the angel’s cheek at night
no longer seen, no longer heard,
colour, crawling through the chaos,
fragile flickers of faith
falling under footsteps.
I hear the heavens wail as you walk,
walls falling under flattening feet
as what was light and life
returns to soil,
fowled and foiled from strife.
We are all petals in the garden,
in this garden of greed and glory,
looking for a leaf to live under,
as we unfold the shrouds of our story,
ravenous to raise our arms to the sunlight,
striving to be seen in bolts of colour, bright,
breathtaking colour,
brilliant colour,
before we fall under foot
and return, once again,
to the waste and the worms
already twisting and turning,
already sensing our scent,
so confident they are
to conquer our carcasses
when our dreams are done
and our names carved into cement.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
LINGER LIGHT, LONGER
Linger
longer
in this light,
this fragile luminosity,
let me be your curiosity,
shun the shadows for sadder days
for more somber sighs when it’s again the time to cry
but for now
linger
longer
in this light,
in this simplicity,
this momentary tranquility,
entreat me your tenderness,
your warm caress against my being, my body
linger
longer
on the faces,
the passing faces,
the faces of people pacified,
of people satisfied in this light,
in this sun where shadows sat before
where shadows will rise again in minutes, in seconds
but for now,
it’s just light
not just light, LIGHT
radiant LIGHT casting reflections
on what has been and what can be
on what is probable and all that is possible.
Linger
longer LIGHT
Oh lovely LIGHT.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Photographs taken on Ile de la Grande Jatte, Paris.
WILD FLOWERS
We were flowers in a garden,
we were wild flowers,
we were weeds for the wasps
to suckle on,
to suck us off
to suck us dry.
We were unclear
out of focus,
a wash of colour
in the distance,
already extinct
never distinct,
ever changing
ever wilting
ever wanting
something more
something more lasting
someone more substantial.
We were flowers in a garden
beauty being stung
too soon
too shallow
too light
never quite right.
We were wild flowers
dying before we’d been plucked.
All Words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
VIEWS IN BLACK AND WHITE, FOUNDATION CARTIER POUR L’ART COMTEMPORAIN
And a little colour added from nature…
All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly taken on the grounds of La Foundation Cartier pour l’Art Contemporain, Paris
TUMBLE WEED
I lost my way
amid the rushes,
between the bushes,
torn from thorns,
as I turned and tumbled,
was twisted and thrown
and that day the sun burnt
like a blazing beacon upon my body.
I lost the path,
parted from perception,
a play of nature’s deception,
the nature of nature,
as I faltered and fumbled,
was fooled and fowled
and that night the stars stared
like sentinels upon my shadow
but,
along the midway of the midday,
the world wound round
and its spirals knocked me down
while the towering trees
threatened me with their trunks,
turning and twisting
out of shape,
out of sight,
out for rape,
for revenge.
I lost my way
along the track
trying to find my way back,
gaining nothing on the gate,
as my grounding gave way
to a growling gravity,
to a sudden surge of velocity
and I,
twisting like a tumble weed,
caught up like nature’s seed,
wondered if I’d ever be freed.
Twisting through the tracks,
through the bushes
as movement rushes,
tumbling through the well threaded track,
all footprints being pushed back,
twisting and turning
and tumbling like tumble weed,
like nature discarding a troubling seed.
All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Photographs taken by the underground caves in Maastricht , The Netherlands
RUINED
I see a tree,
the ruins of a tree
I see man,
bricks bearing the bones
of what man thought he could be
they are falling
before him
around him
on top of him
I hear him crumbling.
I see a tree,
another tree,
I see many trees,
a host of nature’s possibilities
all rising above the ruins of man
rising above what man has ruined
All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Photographs taken on the Caribbean island of Caracao
CARVED IN
You are carved upon the lines, carved upon the seat, carved upon the branches
and the roots and the shoots of the tree that stood before you,
carved upon the life, carved upon the heart, carved upon the tears
and the tissue and the memory of the mind that holds you,
your scent is still within the garden, still upon the chair,
is wrapped around the branches and the bushes and the buildings
that stood before you, your scent is sealed upon the body,
teases still the tongue, smelt still on the hands,
beneath the nose and on this skin that used to touch you,
there are knots within this wood, on this bench, on this tree,
on these buildings, along this body that can never be undone.
There are shadows in this garden, on this seat, beneath the branches,
in the sunlight, shadows in the sunlight, on this body that can never be erased.
There is an echo of what was, resounding in this garden, in this seat, in this tree,
in this heart.
All words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
SUMPTUOUS SIMPLICITY
i wandered through the wood,
A world away from the walls
And ways of man
And his madness,
I wandered through the wood,
Its dewy fragrance,
Floral yet familiar,
Floating free and fluid
On filaments of air
That enamoured my nostrils
And enticed me to linger longer,
To look behind the bush
And briar, to witness nature
And all it nurtures as it fights,
Forages and furnishes fertile fields
With its bark, bramble, beauty
And bravado and it is brave,
To dare to demand your divvy
From hands of hungry humans
Harbouring monotonously for more
And more of more and more,
I wandered though the wood
And took time to thread through
The twisting paths taking me
To the truth of this terrain
That we worship
From a worrying position
Of polished pride
And perverted prejudice,
Perceiving the ferns and foliage
To be folly’s fuelled only
For our fancy and frivolity,
I wandered through the wood,
Garnished in grassy greens,
Golden and graceful, glowing
Under the sun’s synergy,
Sensitive to surroundings,
Savvy to predators
Preying in the undergrowth,
I wandered through the wood,
Branches unabashedly blooming,
Beating and baying their way towards
A better day, a brighter bounty,
I wandered through the woods,
Caught in a clarion curtain
Of captivating light,
Leaving leaves luminous
While sheeting a shadow
Over all that sat superfluous,
I wandered through the wood,
On the edge of the city,
Walled in with worry,
And rested awhile
Amid the certain serenity
Of all its sumptuous simplicity
A Wood Away from the World
I wandered through the wood
And wondered
What would happen
As I walked past the Willows
And Walnuts,
Worried for the world
Beyond the woods.
I watched
This wilderness
Of winding ways
And weathered wills
Where I worshiped the wisdom
Of these weighted monsters-
Magnificent in the marshes,
A million miles
From the mediocrity of man
And his madness,
Mindfully meandering amid
Mulberries, Maples and more
A million trunks
Like magical masts
Making their way
Through mighty mists
As irrepressible roots
Raided through
Rushes and ruins
Of rudimental riches
Rotting around the ground.
From Nature and nurture
To nourishment and nutrients
In nanoseconds
Neath this night
Nowhere near
The noise and nonsense
Of knob-heads
And nincompooptic know-it-alls
Whose knuckles
Gnaw at you needlessly
As they clamber
And claw their way,
Cunning and cankerous,
Across cadavers
Scarcely cold
To claim the crown.
I filed through the forest
And felt the freedom
In its fortune,
Forged far from
Frivolous, foolish fellows
And feared for the future.
I prayed
To pave a path
As pure as
This paradise
That paraded itself
In front of me.
As I parted
I borrowed some branches
To beat back
The bosses and bastards
Bombarding boardrooms
With bombastic beatitudes
Bordering on baseless
Overbearing, big headedness
But thought it better
To bore a path
Beyond these bellowing battles
And brooding barflies.
I wandered through the wood
And wondered what would happen
If we lost the beauty of nature
To the madness of man
And his gluttonous greed?
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Damien B. Donnelly 