—
Breezes are back in bloom
and I am caught
by the curl of the curtain
as it catches
in the courant d’air
now coming in
with questions
for all that has slipped
into a sleepy silence.
—
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
seasons
FRIENDS FOR A SEASON
They were just girls in a stifling city,
each but a slip of the seasons,
baring a hope for what they might see
and running for different reasons.
Jenny was winter and already withered
and looking for comfort from the cold,
she was journey and distance all rolled into one
and the secrets she stored had never been told.
Mary was springtime and fragile under foot
yet thoughts took root in her head,
she was innocence dressed in a short mini skirt,
a fledgling of faith, a seedling to be fed.
Sarah was stuck in a summer since parted
always looking for what she had lost,
as illusive as tides that trickle through time,
she sunk beneath skin now frozen from the cost.
Together they lived and together they fought
for a season on the old river lane,
but when fall came calling all connection unraveled
and the three girls parted with their bags still full of pain.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
SEASONAL CYCLES
–
Winter’s withering winds
rustle through berry’s blossom
in the gentle dawn, falling
on these days of the daffodil.
I walk by wild water
in a world wild of will.
Bloom beneath spring
summer; a blanket beautiful,
seasons are cycles,
sweet that song from seed to stone.
All words by Damien B. Donnelly influenced by the lunchtime magnetic poetry oracle
WE ARE SEASONS
–
Spring sun sweet on skin
that still recalls the rain,
(it is not just raindrops that fall)
drunk is the forest beneath
those blood red moons
(blind are we to the fires we started).
Will you swim through the shadow
to beat away these bitter blues?
Beauty is a ship of summer symphony,
we are whispers to be worshiped
before our season stops to sing.
All words by Damien B. Donnelly with the help of the magnetic poetry oracle.
ILLUSIONS
Gardens grow,
trees get taller,
clouds gather.
I see you
in the movement,
in the air that rushes past time turning,
in the scent of sweetened summer
now swept into corners now shaded.
Clouds gather,
trees get taller,
gardens grow smaller.
Eden is an illusion lost.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
MOMENT AFTERWARDS
In absence
lips lean out
in longing,
clouds gathering,
a chill in the air,
the warmth slipping.
Memory is a playful thing,
you tease and turn
over and back to before.
We kissed,
I feel it intensely,
I see it clearly
in the mirror
still marked
from a night now over.
Cold showers
call out
from the falling rain,
seasons come and go.
Moments linger longer.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
SEASONS TURNING
Trees tremble
in winter’s clutch,
hardening soil
hardens hearts,
frost will follow
till spring’s breath
beckons icicles
to gently weep.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Inspired by a twitter poetry prompt from #WrittenRiver
UNDER THE FALL
Day 7: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo
I want to live as a tree
born from branches
turning, twisting
rummaging, rooting,
roots in the earth
in the flesh,
sucking substance
from the soul
of the soil,
head in the sky
reaching, rising,
hoping, shedding
my skin like leaves
in autumn
and starting again
each spring
after rising up
from under the fall.
I want to live as a tree.
All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Photograph taken in Parc de Sceaux, Paris, France
EVEN IN DRY DAYS WE FIND WAYS
By roughened rock
and stubborn soil
nature shatters
the seasoned shell;
from on high we fall
to root and rise again.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
LISSOME LIES LIFE
Time waits for
shimmering snows
to melt into memory
like kept kisses
from lost lips.
Time waits
for saturated skies
to seek sustenance
in blushing blues
since stolen
by frantic frost
and fragile freeze
like drawers deserted
of his clothes
and her shoes
as the wind whips
the chasm carelessly.
Time waits
on the sidelines
for shades of spring
to slip over shrubs,
like seductions over skin,
now stilted,
now submerged,
now surrendered to silence,
now frozen in frame
as if posed for a painting
or preparing for purification.
Breath paused
in place of still air
still water
still winter
still single
but life is lissome underfoot.
All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available at Soundcloud:
https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/lissome-lies-life
Damien B. Donnelly 