Between the lines and through the lens…
With memories flooding over me these days of travel, even if it was for work, this poem demanded a little recording along with some of my photographic memories of China and Hong Kong and the Ladies Market on a Sunday, jet lagged in the rain…
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Spiral. Sea. Sound. Snail shell. Seashell. Cochlea. Calm. Current. Cacophony. Hollow to house. Hollow to harbour. Hollow to hear. Slow. Sand. Sense. Snail Shell. Seashell. Cochlea. A house. A home. A harbour for the sound of everything. All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly
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When I am broken I hear the strings of my heart and its music moves me. When I am mended I forget the sounds that once resounded […]
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And so lives sound, a chorus of sound, a glorious cacophony, a clatter, a sound of ladies looking, laughing, touting, shouting a shuffle of feet, tiny feet, tiny ladies, on a tiny street, on the ladies street with brollies, bright brollies, tartan brollies, cheap brollies, silly brollies, bending brollies, brollies broken by the sound […]
Read More…I awoke last night- Still drowsy from dreaming- To be enveloped instantly By a surreal silence As the darkness Carried the weight of your absence To the depths Of its sulking shadows. I sat there, Alone and shaking- Upright in the bed- Blanketed In an all too restrictive covering Of icy cold, concrete-like blackness- Unable […]
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