seasons – Deuxiemepeau Poetry by Damien B. Donnelly

SUNSHINE AND SNOWFLAKES

I climbed you today in downpours and falling snows, no snowflake ever the same, no footstep ever similar, I climbed you today in sunlight and stealing shadows, in strokes of paint splattered in your memory by artists as foreign as they are familiar, I paused upon your steps, your streets of steps, the steep […]

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OCHRE DANCING

Porcelain plant pot plots the delicious decay of decadence once eyed as ochre dancing next to dandelions in the dawn’s dew. Pretty painted picture of plants in a porcelain pot plays with the presence of past and present under the preservation of pressed paint. Gold garnered by the grace of the sun, amber’s earthiness […]

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BLACK IS ONLY SHADOW

Winter has grey wings, feathers of sodden soot that come from concrete clouds too dense to discern any light beyond. Winter spawns grey wings but spring is an architect of possibility by a canal of colour that sweeps in after the fright of the frost and baths us in a blithe breath that blows […]

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BEFORE THE SONG

Cold clouds burrow beneath the forest, the spirits have taken cover, peace and fruit now buried beneath a bed of lichen, summer’s rose too ruined to redeem, her last scent is now a dream. Love has been lost here too on a wind that wandered from wondrous to winsome beneath a bed of burlap […]

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THE THAW

Blue is the breath, blue is the earth, morning, early, the sky a clean canvas of white and the earth; blue, a bed of frozen blues born from dawn’s breath, a blanket of freshly fallen slow snow, trembling along the hairs of the land, caught in the calm before the crunch, before the footprints […]

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DARK LIGHT, PART 2; THE FALL

I whisper into wakefulness, the body stirs before the brain, the blood before belief, I curl into colder corners of the covers to encourage skin to come round as sound slips in just before the sight, light pours into eyelids slowly opening, toes slip out to inspect the season but the soul knows the […]

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DARK LIGHT, PART 1: FAR FROM

And slow falls the heaven’s breath, drawing on those days of dawns; dewy with that blanket white crispness below the song of the bluebird (do you see; beauty can be blue even when the bird isn’t black) soft thrills trembling through the forest as fine folds of frosty fur find its form in frozen […]