WICKED WILLS

The wolves are out,
Baying in the shadows,
Fetid breath fowling air,
Drool dribbling in the darkness.
The wolves are out,
Growling gratuitously,
Muzzle sniffing movement,
Fangs feverish for flesh.
The wolves are out,
Their scent; steaming,
Their eyes; searching
For substance to satisfy.
The wolves are out,
Their panting petrifying,
Prowling on poised paws
Picturing us as prey
The wolves are out,
Our streets; their forest now,
Our buildings; their shelter,
Our fear; their force.
The wolves are out,
Drawing disguises
From our likenesses,
Slivering among us
Sniffing out old scars
And worn wounds
To leap at lavishly,
Devour on desperately.
The wolves are out,
Tail twisted in and under,
Standing tall on hind legs,
Shaved bodies to assimilate,
Poured over in perfume
But their stench lingers
To stale the street.
The wolves are out,
There’s horror in their howling
And chaos in their cackling,
Predators posing as persons,
But no pretence parts them
From their purpose
And I worry what their wicked will wants.

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THE ANGEL OF THE EVENING

As the evening falls
The angel strides,
Searching for the paths
Of silent mournful cries.

To her bosom she gathers,
Neath her wings she embraces,
All suffering little sinners
Who sigh neath darkened faces.

Her song is sweet
And the melody enchanting
And the wealth of her promise
Angelically enticing.

‘Do come to me,
Your angel of night,
Sweet loves lost children
Who from day have taken flight.

Arise from your shadows
And cast off your mask,
Deceive me with no lies
For it’s your sins that I ask.

Bequeath me with your faults
And I’ll bestow you with innocence,
For I am your saviour
And sweet redemptions are my promises.’

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QUESTIONS FOR THE NIGHT

The trees have lost their branches,
Their leaves long since took flight,
Barren, bare and lifeless they stand
As the mist engulfs the night.

The playground hauntingly sits alone,
Where have your petals gone?
You are the seed upon which they can grow,
Oh, where have your petals gone?

Pools of water lying still on the ground
Reflecting a lonely moon,
Why must your day always be night?
Only the stars can hear your tune.

Through the darkness the nightingale flies,
The nocturnal bird of night,
Yet its song soothes only the lonely
Who search for a soulful light.

Upon a bench a man sits waiting
For the new dawns early light,
But only sounds can give him life
As old years have stolen his sight.

To the naked seat beside him, he asks
Where have my friends all gone?
The ones who laughed and cherished life,
Oh, where have my friends all gone?

The tombstones stand, names form the past,
Where have your spirits gone?
Your memories are safe in a pillar of stone
But where have your spirits gone?

Along dark beaches wise women walk
Their knowledge as great as their years,
But slowly the waves engulf their feet
As they shed half water tears.

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Fading

In this empty room

Sits your lonely soul,

In this silent night,

In this lonely night.

Whilst lovers are loving

And people are laughing,

But not around you,

But not beside you,

But not for you.

 

Through the shadows dancing

And the breezes blowing

Creep lonely chills

And darkness flowing.

In this empty space,

In this endless night,

While people are laughing

And lovers are loving-

You sit alone,

 

Like your room-

Alone.

 

Like the night-

Alone.

 

Like the shadows-

Always fading.

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NOTRE LIT

 

Missing your smoky strains

And longing for everything to be like those

Sometimes hazy,

Sometimes crystal clear

Memories I made in you

While you floated along,

Untouched and unfazed,

By that crazy mixture

Of bureaucracy and chaos

That was as deep rooted in you

As the pride was in your citizens-

Or what the rest of the world would call

Your Arrogance.

Your streets of cobbled charm,

Filled with cafés of impatient waiters-

All of which I forgave

And became to me

A part of your ingrained features;

Those habits your lover performs

Which pinch the skin

But you would be lost as to what to do

Should they suddenly disappear.

Your gargantuan gargoyles and their ghostly glare-

What sights their stone eyes have seen.

Your men for whom I swooned

And lost words

And blushed.

The passion-

Alive in the heart of you.

The affection-

I never lost for you.

And the romance-

Strolling along your banks

As the sun set

On each new day

Of my new life

Within you.

The person that became me

As I found my form

Behind your walls-

I surrendered to you

All that was before

And would ever be again.

For all that I am-

It is because of what you showed me.

For all that I lack-

It is everything that I left in our bed-

Sleep softly on it.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly