THROUGH THE SANDS, Day 7 of A Month With Yeats

 

Day 7 of Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats poetry challenge and today’s inspirational quote from WB is: ‘…stars, grown old in dancing silver-sandalled on the sea, sing in their high and lonely melody…’

To join in the creativity or just to discover Jane’s gentle genius, her blog link is: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/category/poetry-2/

My poem today is called THROUGH THE SANDS

 

And when they danced

she would hold him, her

perfume by his face, his

hands as her strength

as they waltzed through

their current as the tides

swept the shore, through

love and labor, to the first born,

still born, through the twins

who stopped the tears

and the girls who tied

the bows as the sands slipped

through time and the pace

became a quick step, through

the hands that held and those

hips that swayed through

the melody they were making

as they danced through

waves of washing houses

into homes, children into

strangers; rarely calling

and barely remembering

but on they danced as red

locks swept into silver strands,

as full head turned to bald head

on an older head as they turned

to the music now made

in the memory, till she left him,

finally, one morning in may,

as he rose to the sunlight but

she had lost to the moonlight

and so he built her an alter

of sea shells and sentiments

and now he turns, alone, across

the sands still slipping,

as the stars plot a path for him

to reach her in eternity.

 

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

BETWEEN DISTRACTIONS

 

Between
black and white
there are a thousand shades of grey

between
life and death
there are a million things to say

between
I love you
and I love you not

there is more than just hunger and hate

FeelFondFuckFancyFlameFavourFidelityForever
FallacyFuck-upForgetFloutFlingFadeFailingFlee

we are hungry
we eat (more than we should)
and then we hate

you smiled at me
in a sea of sadness I’d grown tired of
a blonde in a season of darker tones
and the distraction deluded me

                            from the truth

are we always alone,
even when we are together?

I held his hand in a taxi
while thinking of another
not yours, not his, but another

I lay in your arms at night
as you lied in mine, behind the light

between laying and lying
there exists a world of truth and disguise

we hate being alone
but devour each other when we are together

devour each other

            to the bone

 

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph of ‘Monument aux morts’ in Pere Lachaise Cemetery, Paris, France.

BLANK CANVAS

I thought it lonely
To be together
With so much standing
In between,
But now,
In this solitude,
These moments tick
Like echoes
Of what’s been lost,
Like laughter
Now fading,
Like love
Now separating,
Like the time shared
Now a fragment of another life,
Another hold we let go of,
Another force to fragile to fight.

I though it lonely
To be together
But this solitary life
Is not the picture
I wanted to paint,
There is too much still life,
All but lines and lessons,
No rhythm,
No reason,
Only a melancholy
In its lack of movement.

White,
Black page,
Blank canvas,
Again?

The Blissful Wake

Before my eyes open,

My body senses you and slowly

Accepts the breaking light

In the shelter of your arms,

Beneath the scent of our lust

Still lingering in the room

From the night before,

I begin to stir

And your body wakens to mine-

Aroused as our legs find ways

To entangle and entwine

Like branches bending together,

Toes running along calf,

Tickling down tiny hairs-

Touching, tempting and teasing.

My eyes open to find you

Next to me,

To let my lips find yours

And allow you be my first sensation,

The first taste of the day,

The first yearning-

Opened and explored.

This is how the light finds me, now,

Today, tomorrow, for evermore,

This is what it’s now like

To lay in the light

Instead of solitary in the shadows,

This is how it is-

Nestled deep within you,

Cosy all around you,

At a loss as to whose hand is whose,

Whose kiss came first,

This is the all clear

Present and future,

This is how the days

Will furthermore begin-

This is the reoccurring dawn

I have dreamed of in sleep-

This is what we make

Of the blissful wake.

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