Snow falls and the darkness drowns in silence,
a hush from the heavens falling, so slowly,
even crystals cry. Are these the tears
of angels weeping who’ve watched us, falling,
like this slow snow, like their tears, trembling?

Snow falls and there’s a stillness and still
all this silence between us. Bruises covered
in this cold cotton candy coating of fragility,
every day more freezing, more frozen,
just not enough to numb. Snow falls
and all paths disappear, I thought our tracks
ran deeper, like this winter, like this weight,
like this waiting, behind the window, behind
this glass I can’t see through, beyond the storm
falling, slowly. Snow falls and the sorrow
slips in, cold where there used to be comfort.

What happens to my tears, who will watch them
with wonderment like I look out now at the snow,
slowly falling, and think of angels?

Wasn’t I once your angel?

Are you watching at some slow distance
as these snowflakes cover my confusion?

In time, this too shall melt and be no more than memory,
even snowflakes fall for but a season. Snow,
falling, slow. Already wishing it was spring.

Even white is blue in the falling light.


All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly



Clouds come,
cover, congregate,
create contours
out of what was once
just colourless cotton candy
to catch us unaware
as we swim through
each other’s current,
currently without caution
and I wonder if we are
no more than clouds;
coming together,
creating colours
in between the shadows
before we fall too heavy,
too saturated, too needy
and comes the rain

pouring from the corners
of our eyes.

Clouds come, clouds go.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a repost for a week of looking at clouds



Silence surrounds

this sweet stillness,

icicles are falling;

tears streaming

new paths

down old windows

once home

to fading reflections

and the robin

and his red chested breast;

forever stained, forever beating,

flaps through the open field

in search of a hushed hope

in buds that will soon bloom,

in life that will soon turn

below the hardened earth

and muddied soil.


We have spilt blood,

been drunk on its bitterness

and still we parch for more.


Sweet is this silence;

these mornings breaking,

crisp and cold,

cutting through the layers

we are desperate to shed,

we too are seasonal;

we rise with a spring

and tumble through each fall,

we are hot headed

and cold hearted

when comfort constricts,

melting pain down windows

too frosty to show any solutions

until we are emptied

and in the silence,

in that slowly

sweetening stillness

we are renewed;

ready to cut new reflections

into the smooth surface

of that shatterable glass,

our faith fluttering

on wings of hope.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud



She was not made
for sunlight
and silly,
she was not designed
for display
and distraction.
She loves moonlight
where her tears
find comfort in the stars
and her shadow
is more shelter
than cell.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Based in a Twitter poetry prompt from #WrittenRiver



Twisted in torment
throughout time,
we are tenements
tears could fill
in their thousands.

If only we were clowns
and comedy was our calling.

All words by Damien B. Donnelly


Twitter poetry prompt “tears could Fill” from #WrittenRiver



Tears on the sleeve of a boy
he’s gonna find release today,
‘Tears on the sleeve’ is what she sang
I fear he is a man today

Tears on the side of his face
this was what he’d waited for
thrown by the time and the place
he thought it would be so much more

things to touch
things to kiss
things to feel
and things to miss 

Tears on a bed not his own
his tongue is gonna roam today
as Tori plays the piano all forlorn
he finally woke the dream today

Lips on the chest of a man
desire came throbbing into life
fingers trace the length of his spine
to many years under stress and strife

where to look
what to see
how to hold
and who to be 

Tears on the sleeve of a man
he stripped the boy from man today
tears in the throb of each thrust
there’s no more need to kneel and pray

Lost in desire and despair
as bodies bend beyond the bed
not what he thought it would be
confusion raging in his head

where to run
where to hide
how to breathe 
but still he cried 

Under the pink with his pants
while the wrong band came to play
‘Can’t stop it coming! she sings
and suddenly he’s on his way

Getting off 
getting off
while they’re all 

Wanna go
wanna go 
but they’re all 

He read in the stars of a match
the horoscopes were wrong again 
somewhere in the hold there was a catch 
he won’t be cumming here again 

Tears on the chest of a man 
he left behind a boy today 
between the thighs of a golden haired man
he left behind the boy today

Someone’s knocking
on the bedroom door 
you can go now
he can go now 

he’s a man now
it’s all done now.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly


Dance with me for a while you asked
And how could I refuse?
The belle of the ball at a soiree of cities
You are lady and goddess, the muse.

Deep in your heart I walked through you
To see you for what you are,
The product of passion and maker of magic
Like the light from a glorious star.

Home in your arms I was in you
And welcomed in from the cold,
You shone out your soul as you filled me with music
While your palaces shimmered with gold.

Comme La Petit Prince I came to you
Questioning life and romance,
Well I learned how to live ‘neath your city of light
And found real love in a solo dance.

In Père Lachaise I wept for you,
For the heroes you have lost,
The sparrow of Piaf, the spirit of Bernhardt
Seurat and Balzac and Proust.

Canvas of white, a child again
At play in the fields of you,
You opened the doors to your present and past
From the Palais Royal to the Pompidou.

You kept a watch both night and day
Lit a light for me to glide
From your cafes of jazz to your muscles of men
I inhaled every smoky dark side.

By Sacré-Cœur I looked on you
Till my eyes were pools of tears,
From La Tour Eiffel to your grand Musée du Louvre
I’d surrendered in you all my fears.



With my hands,

I create something from nothing.

With my hands,

I reach out and touch you.

With my hands,

I find my way through the darkness

And, if needed, wipe away the tears.

In the light,

They shade my eyes so I can see what lies ahead.

In our love,

They are the touch that entwines two bodies in our bed.

My hands are my creativity,

My contact,

My compass

And my comfort.

I see in them the lines of my life-

I watch them change as I journey through time.


Not One Fucking Tear

Fuck it!

Fuck it, I keep saying

To myself

In the place of

Bashing skull against wall.

Fuck it,

I stripped it all down for you,

Laid it physically

And mentally


And emptied myself

Of all my silly secrets

And petty principles

And all for this-

This insipid accomplishment of nothingness-

The fucking empty vacuum

Of the little you gave, offered, shared!

Are you greater for all you have stolen,

Am I reduced from all you have taken?

Was I but meat on the bone

To be scraped off,



Was there a thought,

Any thought,

A fucking single thought

Towards feeling

Or stand you sensorially deprived;

Incapable of consciously considering

The character of others?

Fuck it,

I say again,

Over and over,

As I sit here,

Fucked again

By the failure to forsee

The futile future

And yet, you stand there still

As if wounded,

As if innocent,

As if exempt

From all blame

While my blood drips slowly

From your tongue to toe.

Fuck you,

With your polished pristine pride

And mirrored glances

To catch but your own reflection.

You- with your caloused hands,

Chapped skin

And impenetrable heart

And that blood still falling

From tongue to toe-

Not yours, once mine.

I bled for you as you bore

Inside me,

As you bore me,


Over and over,

Bored me sensless

Until I found myself

With skull against wall

Looking for a door to open,

A handle to get a grip on,

Just something to latch onto

And pull me out.

Fuck this mess,

Fuck this situation,

Again and again,

All over again.

Fuck the promises you pissed away.

Fuck the potential that should have been.

Fuck those changes we talked about.

Fuck the Us that could have been We

While all along you only cherished

The Me that was You!

Fuck those fears I had

Of being alone,

Of missing you,

Of starting over-

Fuck it all away.

Days are passing now

And I have not shed a single tear,

Not one fucking tear for you.

Fuck you- no more!