THE CYCLE

Come the cycle

wild through this dawn

of the daffodil,

I will be a vine in blossom,

a blanketed spring upon the prairie,

a seed of song to follow the frost

and you; the sun

in a season

too sweet for shade.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly with the aid of the magnetic poetry oracle

DELICATE THINGS

 

There are violets
in lullabies
caressing windows
where once
only sleeping notes lay

There are songs
in springtime
seducing summer
in gardens
where all colour was grey

There are violets
awaking
on walls now a witness
to the orchestra
of nature at play.

There are violets
on strings,
on sweet subtle strings,
simplicity reassured
in the delicate things.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly