WHEN I CONSIDER THE ECHO OF A PULSE – NEW POEM

And another door finds its hinges turning (you lean, you linger, you lose, you leave)tides twist and then return, summer finds winterwhistling on the arms of an enigmatic autumn (leaves fall, flowers grow, dust settles before the sun)and I wonder what remains within the roomswe leave behind, in the corners now cast offwhere comfort was […]

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BLACK BEAUTY, THE LIGHT IN LOUGHSHINNY

  Clouds congregate under summer skies, standing towers, still, waiting for Napoleon’s rise. Up close, only echoes of history hit the hollowing rock below- coming in to slip out with more, in search of possession on another shore. There are footprints on the beach- horses hooves whose metal shoes now feel the rust of the […]

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THAT WHICH IS MAPPED OUT FROM THE START

  There was always an end Even before we started To circumnavigate Time’s tock- Listen Still Hear it Winding back To that first tick There was always an end We Were Just greedy Like composites Wanting to be primes.     All words photos by Damien B Donnelly

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THE SWEETER SONG

  Dominant bird rings on repeat his call in the late afternoon- arriba, arriba, arriba he appears to echo whilst other feathered fellows join in his mash-up as if they all know the price is now time sensitive- this has become their season to shine- they sing and we sit in their shadow, the quiet […]

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GIVEN TIME

  Rushes rustle a calling to the rain mimicking the sound of those molecules of moisture they long to feel against their sharp- edged skins. We all learn to mimic what we must, let go of all we can not hold, lean in to what we love, fake all we can not feel. Gulls squawk […]

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FORGET ME NOT

There are sink holes in the back garden where I stash the stems of subconscious longing along with feathers plucked from the stale fights over ownerships of books and bonds. When early morning climbs drowned dream with blinding light there’s an impulse to uncover boulder used to bury hole and reach in to touch all […]

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A SONG ABOUT THE SPIRALS

  The circles spiral. Goodbye is not a definitive swan song. Time cannot be buried in a single spot. Early evening and the sun no longer sets in this kitchen that watches the seasons turn without comment. The sills have new shadows we have not yet named. This morning broke over fallen feathers and for […]

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