THE GARDEN OF THE MOON

 

There is a shadow,
like a dream too delirious to light with language,
whispering more of what swam away
than what smears this still water
I trudge through below a bitter moon
that has made his garden in this breast of man.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly

This is a repost for a week of moon and stars

BITTER BRIDGES

 

Clouds cross the skies and trains cross countries
while we cross each other only at jagged junctions
and obstinate intersections, cluttered with catastrophes
or below bitter bridges that bridge no boundaries,
basked only in blackness, always shadow, never light,
always almost, never right here, right now, right moment,
while clouds still cross skies and trains still trail onwards,
while distance is never denied to those on the right track.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly

This is a re-post

THE MOON, 3 POEMS

 

1

The Depth under the Moon

Moonlight
melts
languidly
on liquid lakes

like suds on dishes
like snow on windows

like thicker skin over age-old scars.

Moonlight
floats
momentarily
on rippling reflections

like the tingle after kisses
like the scent after sex

like the pain after parting.

Moonlight
flirts on the water

to divine
whether the depth

is worth the dive.

2

The Garden of the Moon

There is a shadow,
like a dream too delirious
to light with language,
whispering more of what swam away
than smears this still water
I trudge through
below a bitter moon
that’s made his garden
in this breast of man.

3

Being Bold

Beauty is raw
beneath this blood red sky
where we lie delirious,
licking at lazy, drunken ships
trudging through bitter beds,
frantic to find our way to smoother seas.
‘Man is but a whisper,’ the Shadows
sing to the Sun but I
want to milk the storm
before my summer sinks
beneath the shade.
The moon cannot be the only light
to cast its reflection upon these waters.
Surely we too can be as bright
as the night.

Beauty is raw
but bold can be breath-taking.

 

All poems by Damien B Donnelly

Painting entitled Clair de Lune, Pornic by Alexei Bogoliubov,  photographed at La Lune Exhibition, Grand Palais, Paris, 2019

 

All poems are older poems I am re posting.

IN THE VALLEY OF THE SUN KING

 

Sun shines in the valley
where the sun king came to stay,
shade is shy in the valley
at the king and queen’s hideaway.

Shadows slip through the valley
down from stars to under stairs,
some secrets slip through the valley
whispered from lips of concrete heirs.

Sun shines in the valley
on swans now savage at swim,
the sun shines in the valley
though the peasants weren’t allowed in.

Shadows sneak through the valley
through the greed gathered within,
shadow is splitting the valley
like guillotines cutting through skin.

Sun shines in the valley
as gold from the fountains flow,
the sun shines in the valley
where follies fade and legends grow.

Shadows sleep in the valley
along paths where tourists thread,
shadows are stuck in the valley
like dust on ideals long dead.

Sun shines in the valley
as Apollo rides the waves,
the sun shines in the valley
and drowns the suggestion of slaves.

Shadows stretch through the valley
pressed into promises made,
shadow is song in the valley
on benches where kisses once laid.

Sun shines in the valley
in the Sun King’s palace of pride,
the sun shines in the valley
where they often came just to hide.

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly

Reposting this for 14 juillet (Bastille Day, French National Holiday) 

I took a break recently to deal with some life challenges, health issues, panic attacks and to edit my novel (after receiving an extremely positive critique from an interested publisher) and then ended up getting distracted by planning to move country at the end of the year so have not been around for a while ( I am sorry to have been away for so long and also sorry to have missed your blogs, I will be playing catch-up over the coming weeks after a trip to Ireland) but I am still here, and will be back…

In the meantime I am re-blogging a few older poems.

Hugs and good thoughts to you all, DamiX

SUMMER STORM for Poetry Day Ireland

 

It’s Poetry Day Ireland so I am supporting from abroad. This year’s theme is Truth or Dare so throughout the day I will be posting a few of my older poems on Truth and a few more on being Irish…

Summer Storm

Beat away at breast;
a lie of love grown to lust,
grown repulsive,
‘Whisper who we were,’
rose water, a shadow symphony
drunk on a dream,
smooth shot to sordid,
bitter chocolate screams
beneath the sweaty skin
of a summer storm.

   

All words and photographs of Dublin by Damien B. Donnelly

THE GARDEN OF THE MOON

There is a shadow,

like a dream too delirious

to light with language,

whispering more of what swam away

than smears this still water

I trudge through

beIow a bitter moon

that’s made his garden

in this breast of man.

All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly with the aid of the magnetic poetry oracle

CITE 

 

A city
in shadow,
a choice;
to stay
or leave,
to be the inquisitor
or the commuter,
to be constant
in the light
or to comprehend
the darkness, far from it,
to break down the barrier
between all there is to see
and all there is left of us to fear.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

SHROUDED IN HOPE 

 

Even
when shadows
settle over me
as shroud,
beside me
rests a light;
a faith
in what might
still be allowed.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly. Photograph taken at the Dior exhibition at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs, Paris.