Weekend break from the Parisian heat in Bretagne, France…

By the Breakers at Saint Malo



Patterns on la plage (the beach)


Sunset over the former pirate seas of Saint Malo 




Big Bear at Le Grand Hotel des Thermes, Saint Malo


The Seagull sweep



Striking a pose



Le Mont Saint Michel


Tide’s out



Sunset beneath Le Mont Saint Michel

Within the Abbey at Le Mont Saint Michel

All photography by Damien B. Donnelly


THROUGH THE SANDS, Day 7 of A Month With Yeats


Day 7 of Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats poetry challenge and today’s inspirational quote from WB is: ‘…stars, grown old in dancing silver-sandalled on the sea, sing in their high and lonely melody…’

To join in the creativity or just to discover Jane’s gentle genius, her blog link is:

My poem today is called THROUGH THE SANDS


And when they danced

she would hold him, her

perfume by his face, his

hands as her strength

as they waltzed through

their current as the tides

swept the shore, through

love and labor, to the first born,

still born, through the twins

who stopped the tears

and the girls who tied

the bows as the sands slipped

through time and the pace

became a quick step, through

the hands that held and those

hips that swayed through

the melody they were making

as they danced through

waves of washing houses

into homes, children into

strangers; rarely calling

and barely remembering

but on they danced as red

locks swept into silver strands,

as full head turned to bald head

on an older head as they turned

to the music now made

in the memory, till she left him,

finally, one morning in may,

as he rose to the sunlight but

she had lost to the moonlight

and so he built her an alter

of sea shells and sentiments

and now he turns, alone, across

the sands still slipping,

as the stars plot a path for him

to reach her in eternity.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly



Catch cotton kisses
blowing briefly over bodies
on beds, on beaches
basking, baking.
Catch kisses
cuddled in cotton sheets
freshly laid kisses
caressing carefully closed curtains. 
Kisses cuddled
on sandy beaches as tides tick through time,
tickling time
with waves washing over us.
Clean, crisp
cotton kisses, candy kisses,
too delicious to last too long,
long kisses
on cotton sheets, worn with laughter,
folds of light laughter,
making movements of moments,
moving moments,
catch the moments
of bodies on beds, on beaches
where tides kiss toes,tickle toes,
wash away woes.
Summer kisses,
cotton candy kisses
on soft sheets of surrender,
like the sand surrenders to the shore,
like the sea caresses the sand,
in waves never lasting
though sinking so deep
below the surface.

All words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:



I’m chasing 
beaches broken 
slipping in between sands sinking 
feet in search of footing firm
contemplating connections
between the sand and sea
as if to find reflections 
between the land and me.

I’m chasing 
beaches broken 
slipping in between sands sinking
watching tides through time trickle
dividing and subtracting
what’s lost and left to see
as if they’re reenacting 
what the years made of me.

I’m chasing
beaches broken
slipping in between sands sinking
currents coming to covet
corrections and corrosions
that trickle out to sea
along with the illusions
of who I thought I’d be.
I’m chasing
beaches broken
slipping in between sands


skipping over shallow streams


while holding on to hope.


All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:


Screen Shot 2016-05-15 at 17.27.02

We walk on soothing sands
in far flung foreign lands
that sweep seductions 
over sky and sea, we see,
in loving hands, golden wedding
bands, no tighter knot any sailor
ever made, we walk on beaches
of borders blue, better blues
than any blue has ever been, a better bond
than any eyes have ever seen, eyes
that tickle with tears, eyes that see
a future beyond the years, we twist
and turn to songs serenading the sunset,
a sway of celebration, a joyous jubilation
to court the continuous currents
of the fortunate fate that found you,
a dutch delight and a perfect Per,
here and happy folding hands
around hearts while a certitude
sweeps the shore, connections created 
in this paradise where gods have given glory,
where the universe maps out for you
a story, and when the sun sets your foot prints 
will settle upon the sand where you once stood, 
impressions tied by tides like the rings now worn;
bands to bind the bearers, you are now
like the sea and the shore;
bound to each other,                       always and forever more…

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

AT THE RISING SUN; Tunisia, Remembering Brighter Days


Shandy shades of dust speckle the ground

And gallant tones of green

Dot the landscape

From which the scent of olives ooze,

Before mixing with the aromas of musk,

Distant Morocco

And the comical smell of buring tires.

At dusk,

I am driven by a blind taxi driver-

Judging by his driving-

Along a road

Which seemingly stretches through the sea

Whilst seagulls dive for food

Before the final setting of the sun.

That morning,

I had strolled along golden sands

And watched tides sweep over my feet,

I saw white robbed men

Close their eyes

And wrap themselves

In prayer and peace.


I saw the sun rise

And pour its rays

Over the tombs of those

Who had long since gained

Eternal rest.

A simple life witnessed,

With riches extending far beyond

The grasp of materialism…




I see you
Sweep across my feet
As I sink between
The sand and the shore,

I see you
Seep neath my skin
In a sensation so
Soothing and seductive,


I feel your
Currents caress me
Drawing me into depths
A darkness devoid of fear,

I feel your
Fluid fill my lungs
Flowing with the force
Of being found and being free,


I see you
Rise within me
Until I see myself
No longer, no more,

I see you
Until I open my eyes
And the dream is gone,
But what remains?


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly