Violet descending, grieving light in the white shade of a jungle that strangled the dinosaurs, Venus; the fly trap for a summer’s notebook of fine young cannibals along a coast of blazing sands where saint Sebastian dug down into sin and beak broke into the belly of all they had named as enchanted.
The Blue jays had departed to other places; blond shores after a season of too many browns.
In the operating room, sugar is a dose of doctor caught between cause and the cost of being peaceful after the dry heat of all that horror, of sliding desire back into the parts it cannot dissect and the Drum not bright enough to silence.
Rainbows were only reflections of light before they became pathways of pride.
Suddenly, in the last summer of kindergarten, I am closeted case in the examination room of teenager; turning Tennessee pages tentatively, dreaming of tasting how it would feel to catch fire for a moment, in a summer that didn’t burn, on a faraway beach that stank of wolf’s breaths and flesh eating birds; a desire to be torn from the choke of all those Venable pearls.
Lonely is deeper than death, alphabet blocks are only clutter in the darkness of a closet. A lobotomy is a cut cold to consideration.
This was one of the first plays I saw the movie version of when I was trying to come to terms with my own identity. It’s difficult to understand who you are when on TV or stage they were not even allowed utter the word gay or homosexual and a lobotomy was ordered for someone who tried to explain it- Let’s just cut it out! I read this poem on the Pride episode of Eat the Storms, the podcast podcast, one of two poems I opened the show with. Spotify link below but also on Apple, Anchor, Google, ITunes, Breaker, Castbox, Overcast, Pocket Cast…
Tomorrow is Poetry day Ireland but as we can’t go out and do our thing, we are staying in and doing our thing anyway.
Poetry time at Alan Hanna’s Bookshop in Dublin will be online and celebrating from 11am onwards on Thursday. Catch us on twitter and instagram and Facebook and anywhere we can make a post and share of poetry. And it’s all about our favourite books.
There will even be poems and links and videos and maybe a mini movie. So don’t sleep through the day- come join in the fun…
Tomorrow is Tuesday but not just any Tuesday, on Twitter it’s #TopTweetTuesday thanks to the wonderful poet Matthew M C Smith, editor of Black Bough Poems and author of the superb poetry collection Origin: 21 Poems (buy on Amazon and read ‘Footprints’ and ‘Daughters’ and you’ll see why it’s unmissable, passionate, thought-provoking, and he’s Welsh- so what more reason is there to adore it) and it’s a day where one poet hosts and all other poets are invited to come by and share one of their poems or the poem of their favourite writer of the moment and the host comments on it and reposts it so even more people can see it and read it and share it and love it. It’s about loving poetry and raving about it and sharing it.
Well, tomorrow I’m the host, so if you’re on Twitter and have a poem that you love and want to share then it’s easy- either drop by @blackboughpoems to see how it works or just type @blackboughpoems and #TopTweetTuesday and @deuxiemepeau into the tweet along with your poem and whatever else you want to say and off we go…
See you all tomorrow, on Twitter.
Wear something fabulous and share something even better.
Spending my final full month in Paris looking back in order to move on. Each day will be a new or revised poem and, of course, some photographs of this city that I’ve been connected to since I was 22 and will soon leave at 44.
Hello and Good evening from packing central Paris where I think peace has already been placed in a box and therefore panic is certainly present but I am trying to encourage it to pander more towards party!
The countdown is on. I leave my job as a pattern maker at the Paris Atelier of & Other Stories (women’s wear Fashion and lifestyle Brand) on November 29th and leave Paris on the 6th of December and head to a new life in Ireland, the distant Irishman returning to his homeland after 23 years. Fashion is out and whatever is next to come is in the hands of fate.
But this week has been a bright light in terms of feeling empowered and that this mid-way, mid-life change has been the right decision.
You may have heard my screaming on Monday, as it was announced by the genius that is Hedgehog Press that my debut collection of poetry will be out and about in 2020. And then, as if that was not enough to literally make me cry with joy (and there were joyous tears with the mother over the phone last Monday) on Friday morning Black Bough dropped its 3rd issue and there I was, amid a sea of stunning creatures. As I said to someone regarding this issue, I feel like a goldfish in an ocean of magnificent dolphins… just look at the list of talents below including the amazing editor Matthew M.C Smith, Anne Casey, Elizabeth Horan, Mari Maxwell, Colin Dardis, Ruairi de Barra, Claire Loader, Niall M. Oliver, Eliot North to name but a few…
The link to this issue 3 of Black Bough Poetry, entitled Yoke, where you can download the pdf, is…
I take this thistle like I take these words, I trim the thorns at times for desire to be softer, sweeter, so lines can be calmer, cleaner. I seek out the heart of the whole, for now, for here, for this moment, for the sentiment of this song that comes for but a season. I seek not branch nor stem, but the life that lingers where flavour is found, where thoughts flow freer upon the page, no longer rooted under rock, no longer locked under fear. I pierce through firm flesh like this pen plots it’s point into the page, holding out not for the green flesh pleading for a place in purple but for the truth buried beneath the skin we have learnt to thicken,
I cut away at words wasteful and suck the substance of the tale from the source
below the scale.
All words and photography By Damien B. Donnelly
28th poem for National Poetry Writing Month
Lunch today was homemade mayonnaise and steamed artichokes and so came the poem
Last weekend, I was fortunate enough to be one of the artists featured in the latest issue of Barren Magazine, entitled Birch Black, Bone White, curated by Jason Ramsey, found on Twitter at @barrenmagazine and @JasonDRamsey
This literary Journal, now in its third issue, is a powerful testament to the talent out there today, a collection of voices and visionaries from all around the world. The themes are dark and the subjects often kept in the shadows but the veil has been drawn and this journal exposes the beauty on the bruises and the strength behind the falls.
Quote from the editor: This issue is dark, but it is glorious and beautiful to the core. — Jason D. Ramsey, Editor
Please take a moment to check out this new astonishingly bare and beautiful literary Journal for artists and note that submissions are now being accepted for issue 4; short stories, poetry, essays and photography .
Don’t miss out, there is true beauty to be found here…
This is Kerfe, one of the two genius creators from MeMadTwo, Method to Madness, art expression, poetry and presence. I saw this yesterday and was blown away by its beauty both in words and visuals. Click link below to discover more…
Were I Other. Were I spoken in a different voice. Were I fallen into impossibility.
I would be like stars. I would echo the feeling that follows the wind.
Were I made of light. Were I pulsing like oceans. Were I to open as wide as never and nothing.
I would radiate rainbows. I would paint moments with sound. Fill absence.