Series

WHILE YOU WERE DREAMING, day 6 of A Month with Yeats.

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Day 6 of Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats Challenge and the prompt is as follows: ‘Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven’

Jane’s blog is: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/category/poetry-2/

My Poem today is called While You Were Dreaming

 

And as you dove through distant dreams

just beside me, you left to my center,

I woke to the night sky splitting above me,

the stars were burning, bleeding through

the darkness as the heavens opened,

their gates no longer golden as the

rooks took flight, soaring into my fright

here in this cold night as you tossed

through thoughts and I watched mine

beating, beaten with feathers on fire, 

the disparate darkness drawing delight 

in my downfall, in my blindness and you

turned in sweeping motions, your back 

to me as I should have done, as I could not

and I wondered where you had wandered

as I was culled into consciousness, frozen

by the flames and shivering, were you

moving through memories we made 

or making room for more to come 

in other beds, in other arms, and then

befell the bodies, bound, in chains locked,

in flames crying, cursing, trying to pull

apart bonds that should have broken, 

and you turned again and your arm 

came over my chest and the vision 

was smashed in contact, reverie 

retreating but the burning continued…

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

SUNKEN SHIPS AT SEA, day 5 of A Month with Yeats

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Day 5 of Jane Dougherty’s poetry challenge A Month with Yeats. Today’s quote is from The Wanderings of Oisin: Book One: “and like a sunset were her lips, a stormy sunset on doomed ships; a citron colour gloomed in her hair,” W. B. Yeats.

Below is the link to Jane’s blog: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2017/11/05/a-month-with-yeats-day-five/

My poem is called: SUNKEN SHIPS AT SUNSET

 

 

And down fell the sun

and drowned within the sea

and rough raged the wreckage

as the sailors tried to flee.

 

And down fell the sun

as a storm claimed the skies

and water stole the rafters

and silence crushed the cries.

 

And down fell the sun

as the sirens swam to shore

and laid down the bodies

of the lives that were no more.

 

And down fell the sun

and a sorrow filled the air

as the sirens sang their song

combing cords through golden hair.

 

And down fell the sun

as their tears flowed like waves

and they kissed the fallen sailors

on the sand, now their graves.

 

And down fell the sun

as the sirens said goodbye

to the men mortal men who loved them;

the sea’s sad sirens who cannot die.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

SALMON DANCERS, day 3 of A Month with Yeats

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Jane Dougherty’s 3rd poetry challenge based on a quote from WB Yeats is as follows: “With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,”—W.B. Yeats. Follow Jane and her inspiring poetry at her blog, link below, where you can also see a photograph from Paul Militaru which influenced today’s poem: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com

My poem today is entitled SALMON DANCERS

 

And so swim the salmon, against

the rising stream, foam flushing

against fins as falcons fly overhead

in the fight for freedom, destiny

is not a dance that can long

be distracted, shiny specks of silver

dancing, darting, borne to beat back,

to wage against the rushing waters

as they make their way west. And so

swim the salmon, along the corroded

current of Connacht, that Atlantic

sojourn, that shore still swaying

in the shadow of those ancient songs

when souls set off in search of security

overseas, burdened boats battened

down with the beaten and the broken,

culled like cattle in the rain, boats

with bodhrans and fiddlers, singing

and dying through their dreams

of a new world, already mourning

the old lands, the homelands

they’d been swept from, kept from.

And so swim the salmon

as the storms rage, as they battle

onwards, salmon dancers, skating

on the waters, leaving trickles like stones

once tossed by hands now lost, tracks

to follow for others who’ll follow,

as others have followed, as others

who’ve fallen, their faces now faded.

And so swim the shining salmon,

off into the world with the sound

of home in every stroke.

 

All words by Damien B. Donnelly

Picture from the internet of the Salmon of Knowledge.

THE BEAT OF THE BAT, day 2 of A Month with Yeats

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For Jane Dougherty’s Yeats poetry challenge today’s quote is: “… the dark folk who live in souls of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees;” —W.B. Yeats

To read Jane’s WB inspired gems or to join the other poets in this adventure check out her site at: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com

My poem today is called THE BEAT OF THE BAT

 

The brighter man, the lighter man,

the darker truth, the deeper vein,

bind me to the rough, the real man,

I beat as a bat.

The clearer glass, elusive glass,

the broken bed, the better lay,

tie me to the rider, all night,

I beat like a bat.

The gentle rose, considered rose,

the troubled torn, the rotting root,

plant me in the wild field, riled field,

I beat as a bat.

The sweetest light, the sun light

the witching hour, the darkest night,

pitch me in the rainstorm, windstorm,

I beat like a bat.

The house plant, the tendered plant,

the raging bark, the twisted branch,

nature’s not calm, not quiet, nor I;

I beat as a bat.

An angel rises to heaven’s skies,

bats hang downside, looking inside,

teach me what’s inside,

light the dark side,

I’ll see like a bat.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

BIRTH, SO STILL. Day 1 of A month with Yeats

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Jane Dougherty is not doing NaNoWriMo, let’s be clear about that. But she is busy doing something else equally inspiring- spending a month in the company of W.B. Yeats and asking us to join her- each day this month Jane will pick a line from a Yeats poem and write a new poem inspired by it and wants us to join in too! Below is the link, not only to this adventure but also to her wealth of poetry and short stories and links to her own novels- there are even wormholes! https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2017/11/01/november-yeats-challenge-day-one/

Today’s quote is: “they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies, with heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold:” —W. B. Yeats

My poem is entitled: Birth, so still

 

And the babies were born, broken,

while the seasons still turned, maiden

mothers moved from baring to being left

barren as cowering cloaks cut through

cords, bitter brides in black, climbing

on their crosses, splitting the sin

from the so-called sinner, discarding

the truth with the afterbirth, no grace

for the births so still, no remorse

for the innocence expunged, the girl

grown woman too soon. ‘Fly north

little ones,’ the mourning whispered,

‘take comfort in the bright star,

the North Star, freedom lies beyond

the blackened wings these withered

women wear, they have not lost

to love, they have not shivered

in the absence of that first cry.

The eagle is on the rise in the night

sky and on his feathers you will soar.’

 

All words by Damien B. Donnelly

Picture from the Net.

Audi version available on Soundcloud…

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/birth-so-still

TIME ON THE TIDE, PART 11; WHEN THE SEA MEETS THE SHORE

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See me,
see in me,
see the sea in me,

see in me motion moving,
from an outstretched ocean,
returning, movements manoeuvring;

the sea in me, seeping,
seeping out of me,
sweeping over you,

over us now,

not just me now,
not just you and me now,

us now, us two now, too.

The sea and shore,
and the sea wants more.

See me,
see the sea in me,
see how much more we can be;

you; the shore and me; the sea
coming in, coming home,

see more in us now, today,
here together, (forget forever).

See the sea seeping over shore
sinking deep between
the cuts and curves

see in us more than before.

See me, this sea
that sees you, me, us,

these waves that sweep you, me us,

concerning, caressing
this current connection

coming in closer, (and breathe)
pulling out gently (and breathe)
coming back deeper (and we breathe).

See us taking major meanings
from these minor movements,
taking time for the tides that bind us;
bare bodies, on this beach, that wash over us;

me; the sea and you;
the shore, now sure

now each wanting more and more of more.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

TIME ON THE TIDES, PART 10; CREEPING ON THE CURRENT

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Seep, seep, slowly shifting,
sea skirts shore, holy water
washing in, anointing,

bless us, blessed, in warm
and wanted waves that widen
as we watch, as we welcome,
unaware of being too welcome.

Seep, sweep, seduce the shore
into submissive before you
break the kiss off and beat
the beach with your creep,

creep,

see it sweep, this cut of current
curving into claws, creeping
over sands now shady, shaking

under surface of the seas now
crashing, current rising,
drowning, desiring, destroying.

Creep,

seas slashing, sand bashing,

creep, creep,

deep devouring, searching, scouring,

see it sliver and slice, cold current,
cold as ice, wicked waves, waging,
wanting more and more of the slipping shore.

Creep,

creep, how they seep, how they
creep from calm and quiet,
serpents sweeping from seas
we thought to be slumbering,
now salivating salacious over skin,

tearing, taking, twisting.

We thought you wanted less
but you turned your tides to currents
cunning, running away with more
and more, leaving us with less and less.

Creep!

Seep from this shore, this skin
now sore, ripped raw to the core.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

 

TIME ON THE TIDE, PART 9; TRUSTING TIME

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We slip and slide
like grains of sand
that the sea seduces
as time sweeps over us,
combing us into compact
companions that come apart
after the sun shines
and the warmth dries us up,
how we hate the sand
that slips between the cracks
when we are parted
from the shore and so
we pull apart before we slip
and slide again, making
memory solely of the golden
grains and not the matted
mess that formerly moulded us
into misunderstood,
trusting time to thrust us
into more of a lasting truth
and I wonder if the water
coming in, sweeping up,
spreading out over each grain of sand
has a memory of the last time
it touched the shore or if each sweep
inland is like a new breath,
a fresh attempt to hold
onto something more
hopeful?

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/time-on-the-tides-part-9-trusting-time

 

TIME ON THE TIDE, PART 8; HOURGLASS

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We are
the hourglass
through which time slips,
love seeps and life is lived
on ever sinking sands, come
see us turning over and falling
down on new stops and false
starts, like tides that sweep
the shore, coming in and
going out with less and
less of more and more,
or is it more and
more of less
and less.
We are
hours of taut
time caught within
glasses of fragile skin,
of breakable bone, fine is
our tiny hold on those golden
grains of complex connections;
I wish, I was, I am, I will, I want, I
am done. We are hourglasses
slipping through scents we
try to make sense of
before they slip
from our
senses.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

TIME ON THE TIDE; PART 7; I PROMISE

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I wrote words before,
polished promises I lost hold of
at nights by the sea where the waves stripped
all that was fantasy from a reality
that was never to know my hold.
I lost words I’d promised to hold
for longer than time would allow
but time is not to be toiled with,
time takes no prisoners, is not on our side,
the tide comes and goes, like these lines,
the ones we write and the ones we cross.
I can promise now, nothing but now,
nothing but this hold where hope is held
without being spoken,
I promise to hold you as we wash over time,
further, deeper into the waves
to see what the tides think of us,
to see if we float united,
or fall under in separate streams.
I promise, I promise.