A POEM IN THE ORGANIC POET

 

Happy Sunday to you all and Happy Saint David’s Day to any Welsh ones out there.

Last week I was invited to be the guest poet by the The Organic Poet. This is a wonderful platform celebrating positivity and togetherness.

My poem is called Sweet Things and highlights the joys I am still rediscovering after my return to Dublin, Ireland. Please take a moment and stop by if you have time, They are curating a lovely collection of artists. Clink below…

https://www.theorganicpoet.com/post/sweet-things-by-deuxiemepeau

WINTER 2018, Scribe Base Online Magazine

Winter 2018

So honored to be part of the Winter 2018 Scribe Base online magazine with my poem Snow Falling and overjoyed to be sharing the pages with poetry and artwork from the Uber talented Kerfe from https://methodtwomadness.wordpress.com/2018/02/26/three-in-winter-2018-issue-of-scribebase/

Drop over to Scribe Base and download the issue here:

https://scribebase.wordpress.com/past-issues/2018-issues/winter-2018/

Thank you to Scribe Base for this opportunity and congratulations to all the artists involved (especially Kerfe!)

BE AFRAID BUT BUY THE BOOK…

Halloween may be a month away but believe me; fear has come early this year. Tomorrow is the official release date for Gehenna and Hinnom’s Year’s Best Body Horror 2017 Anthology. 

Do you like being scared; the fear finding its way into your flesh, hairs rising and sharpening, the silence being shattered by something sinister? Well go buy this wonderfully terrorizing book featuring a nerve wrecking collection of chilling tales to set your wits on end!

In the words of the publishers: Abodyemigphobia is the fear of the visceral aspects of the human body. Mutilation, alteration, and disfigurement at the epicenter of horror for many ages. In body horror we not only find something to fear, but we learn to fear ourselves.

How can one fear themselves? Why would something so natural disturb generations of readers?

Gehenna & Hinnom is honored to present the Year’s Best Body Horror 2017 Anthology, the most disturbing and blasphemous collection of horror to ever be read by human eyes. Enter the morose. Embrace the Unknown.

Oh, and I am in there too!

Available to purchase on kindle and that old classic book form.

THE END OF THE ROAD, DAY 30, POEM 30

And so here’s to one
For the end of the road,
Words have been written,
Sentences steadily found sense,
Poems put together, pushed and pulled
On pages being published, hauled
And heralded, heard in hushed homes
Where hope is heartily housed and harboured,

Here’s to the unbelievers
The cynical thinkers of thought,
Leaning to maths in the absence of magic,
Scared to be seen perusing poetically
In their palaces of prejudicial pride,
In places where poetry is but a preoccupation
For pansies prancing about while decorating doilies
And fawning over follies, fads and followers of fashion,

Here’s to the ones
Who are missing out,
To those who dare to look away,
Ignore all that is spoken, reject all
That is written, miss the minutes of magic
Mixed with meaning and metre, meandering
Like madmen through a myriad of amused
And confessional men and women, all willing
To shed their skin, to drop their masks and reveal
The sometimes silly, sometimes scary, secrets beneath,

Here’s to the end of the road,
A month of calculating thought,
Converting concerns into so-called
Confessions, finding fact amid the fictions
Of life, figuring out the force within so as to find
The way to pen and paper, from thought to word,
From hand to eye to read, to lips, to mouth, words
For the mind to ruminate and meditate on the meaning,

Here’s to the completion
Of the composition, the composer
Can collapse, rest and recuperate,
Dream again, to look back and laugh,
Not dawdle in the depths of substance
But laugh at the lines he has lived through,
Lingered along, find light in the letting go, rhythm
In the rhyme, consume not oneself in the character
And caution and concern but release those creations
To live and love, to be heard and held without him and to be
Unburdened and unpunished if the rhythm didn’t always fit the rhyme.

All photographs and artwork by Damien B. Donnelly