GROWING GREY

 

Settled in,

window seat,

wet feet flooding past,

fleeting reflections

in the steaming glass,

looking for the light

in this city

now grown grey

like those hairs

to hard to hide

above those lines

the mirrors reveal

below the eyes

grown weary of watching,

how did the road

spread itself out so far,

behind is a distance

too complicated

to comprehend,

too muddled

to measure,

even the mirror,

this glass, this reflection

cannot hold

all that has been lost

from sight.

All has settled in

so deep

it is difficult to see

in the reflection

all we once were

as we make movements

meant to be meaningful,

amid all that has of late

grown grey. Grey is the new

black but we have no time

to mourn,

the track never stops for us,

the herd hobbles

forever onwards,

there is no going back,

no slowing down

regardless of the weight,

we moan like mooing cows

but follow like sleep

ignorant of the slaughterhouse

outside on those wet streets

with those feet flooding past

all those fleeting reflections

falling unnoticed

into this river

of graying blood.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on SoundCloud…

SCUTTLE AND SCURRY

Screen Shot 2016-04-18 at 23.04.09

We scuttle and scurry
through stepping storms
and stormy skies,
through coughs and cries
and hellos and goodbyes.

We scuttle and scurry,
seasoned citizens
battling the seasons,
the blistering breezes,
the rains and the sneezes,
the smothering sweats
and the winters that freeze us.

We scuttle and scurry
from blankets to brollies
beneath covetous clouds
through clustering crowds,
over pools and puddles
splashing mud on our muddles.

We scuttle and scurry
through this life
in such a hurry

that it’s often gone
before we’ve got it.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photography taken under a stormy sky by The Palacio Real de Madrid, Spain.