All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
water
WORDLESS WEDNESDAY; VENTURES THROUGH VENICE
All photographs by Damien B. Donnelly. Venice, Italy, May 2009
DANCING IN THE CURRENT
I am posting a link to Dancing in the Current, a new blog from Exploring Colour‘s Liz Cowburn. Her husband Nigel took this photograph and afterwards both Liz and I wrote poems based on our interpretations. I originally posted mine last week but wanted to show you the three pieces together, Nigel’s photograph along with Liz’s poem and mine. I am so pleased how our work has intertwined despite the distance between France and New Zealand. I wasn’t able to reblog the post directly so I have copied it here but you can click on the link below to be brought to the original post…
https://dancinginthecurrent.wordpress.com/
Liz’s post:
Drawn To The Light. Dunedin, Otago, New Zealand
The St Clair’s Piles, St Clair Beach. Taken by Nigel Cowburn 31 January 2019
My husband Nigel took this fabulous photo when he was on the beach at sunset, at St Clair. I love the view of the piles seen against the esplanade lights reflected in the wet sand. In fact, I was moved to write a poem and also invited Damien B. Donnelly to do the same. Damien lives far away, in Paris, and yet he wrote a remarkably perceptive poem. Here both poems are published together, with Nigel’s photo.
Nigel works as a Landscape Architect and blogs at Growplan
Survivors
— Poem by Liz Cowburn
[piles’ perspective]
Sentinals of the sand,
we stand
Driven deep to defend
this beach
Regimental relics – we resist,
persist
Fight for footing! Look to the land,
the sand!
*****
[my perspective]
Battered, beaten by tidal terrors ‘the breakers’
— bowed but not cowed
Centred in a century’s swirling currents,
St Clair’s piles sink, subside…
Yet… THESE SURVIVE !!!
You can see Liz’s original poem post here:
https://exploringcolour.wordpress.com/2019/02/12/survivors-poem/
Her new blog is: https://dancinginthecurrent.wordpress.com/
THE WEIGHT UPON THE WAVES
— Poem by Damien B. Donnelly
And in the tide
tight with time and its turning
they left their posts,
impaled upon the sand,
impressed upon the land.
And there they stood
ten in heart and ten in tide
for time to tend,
impaled upon mind,
impressed upon mankind.
And on they marched
up the land and on from shore
for evermore
impaled upon their wain,
impressed upon the flame.
And out with wave
woe on water and touch from time,
tormented years
impaled upon the crest,
impressed upon the chest.
And on they went
refugees in search of root
swept along the shore
impaled upon with tears,
impressed upon with fears.
And on it goes
those who run and those who can stay
and those who are lost,
impaled upon the wars,
impressed upon the waves.
All words by Damien B. Donnelly
Link to view the poem on Damien’s blog: The Weight Upon The Waves
Notes on Damien’s poem
The reference to refugees made a big impression on me. In April 2016 Dunedin accepted their first group of Syrian refugees. Damien wouldn’t have been aware of this when he wrote the poem; I told him later via Comments at his site – the following was his response:
“When I saw the piles and the lights heading off inland in the distance a journey immediately came to mind, the struggle of those who survived, who carry the flames of the hope and the souls of the past; those who were left behind or lost on the journey, the hills we all have to climb and the oceans too many have to cross to seek refuge, I am so glad to hear how Dunedin opened its gates to welcome in a new hope. I think our global commonality is that we are all refugees looking for our place in the world, just some of us have it much easier and a more comfortable journey than others.”
— Damien B. Donnelly (conversation via Comments)
Originally Posted by Liz; Dancing In The Current (2019)
Reprinted by Damien with permission
WORDLESS WEDNESDAY, PARIS IN PASSING
Structured stillness…
JOURNEYS, PART 4; LITHE LIGHT
The clouds quieted the stars above
as I, on bended knee, bowed to the river
and into its flow, in the growing light,
let my hand slip beneath its movements,
under its motions and waited to watch
as its sway of waters waltzed over,
moved through and flowed onwards,
while never stopping, never straining,
never staying and I saw, in that dawning,
in that simple second, how life flowed
around me, through me, and past me,
all precious moments to be borrowed,
to be begged for and to be bartered
before they will eventually break away,
leaving me more than I was before, less
than I will be tomorrow and certain today
that I will, like this current, one day,
as I weave my way through these wants
and wishes, find the way to my own ocean.
As lithe breath called to morning and
the stars found their cover in the clouds,
I bowed to the river, forever bending,
forever mending, forever finding its form
along the bank and bed, amid the light
that lingers along the route and the darkness
that comes to call for but a while.
—
All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly
BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO.30, NAPOWRIMO
We are born
through barriers that break,
water carriers through canals
into comfort and concerns
were borders are built
to nurture nature
while we are compartmentalised,
still, more silent, less severe;
fortunate, less so, white, less so,
gay, straight, one gender,
less gender, clever, less so,
a part of peace
or placed into parts
where peace falls apart.
We cross borders
not all, not everyone,
not the fortunate, not those
who can do so comfortably
but the others, the less so,
running from rage, rape, ruin, less,
running to refuge, reprieve, relief, more.
We build barriers to keep us safe,
to keep the flowers in focus
and not the fragility
beneath their bloom.
We build barriers, bigger, higher,
sharper, not to shelter but to shield
all we don’t understand, all we fear
until we are left inside with fear itself.
We are born
through broken barriers
but fall too quickly to forgetful.
All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly
SEARCHING TO BE SMOOTH
See
the simple stream;
current crashing
into character
See
the mouths of babes;
wishes whispering
of their will in waiting
Rough
runs the water
falling to find its force
Smooth
as our skins
we are not
We are curt corners created,
counting on the current
to carve us into caress-able.
All words and sketches by Damien B. Donnelly
TO THE WATER
I have taken to the water,
am running toward reckless
and dissolving the wreckage.
I have taken to the water
even on this land
of cracks and grumbles
(slippery under snow
or shadowed by a sun
we can’t outrun)
I still hear the water
rushing amid all that is restless
(am still bound to rest less and less)
as this will whispers within
to ‘follow the water’
in place of drowning
in a desert of dry doubt.
I have taken to the water,
corners caught on a current
clear in it’s translucency
as if to reveal the truth
beyond the abstrusity
of the boulders once blocking me.
I have taken to the water,
to it’s meanders of movement
(I move toward what is meant)
I turn and twist
and forget tastes once treasured,
I am flying fluid
(a flood of fluidity)
I cannot hold everything
(catch the kiss before it capsizes)
there are no pockets
in paradise
(babies are born naked;
only man dresses the dead
as if to ignore the death).
I have taken to the water,
reckless is running
right on front of what is left
of all that’s looking for rest
(while I swim toward the rest of me).
I am a small storm
in the steady stream,
I am the stream
storming into sturdy.
I am change.
I am unstoppable.
The truth lies
not in the bank,
but lays in the trust I place
on this translucent trickle
tracing my paths
upon the water.
I have taken to the water,
ripples running through reflection,
cutting the connection
of what once was,
I am catching on current-
all else will drift to dissolve.
All words and photography by Damien B Donnelly
Audio version available on Soundcloud
https://soundcloud.com/damien-donnelly-2/to-the-water
CAST OFF
–
Along the river bed,
long running with water
already washed through our hands,
–
long is not the hold we have to harbour,
–
long running with this water
no longer light at its level,
no longer smooth along its sands,
–
along this bend of river
I cast into the current, like a kiss
no longer catchable,
this weight no longer workable,
now on route to dissolvable.
–
From breath to bubble,
bobbing
bubbles,
from breath to bubble and then trouble,
then off they blow,
splashing as they sparkle
and splutter on to spent.
I cast you into this current,
where shamrock slips to sapphire,
to let the past depart,
not sad of heart, not hard,
just a shadow of blue
in a bend of the bank
at the edge of expire.
–
To slip from soul like a skin
now shredded from recognition,
a cast off of character no longer cast
in this current condition.
We knit until we are knotted,
we weave patterns;
loops locked under chains,
some stitches saved and others slipped,
connected to a comfort
until they struggle under strains,
–
a fragile filigree
we cannot always wear,
hands can only hold
what wants to be held,
we are not fortunate
for the future to foresee,
we can not always follow,
sometimes even sheep
must make their own route
before they are wound as wool
or substance to swallow,
–
even the river bed must turn, in time,
twist at others, we are no straight line
but a collection of corrections
cast on and cast off,
kick off
pay off
drop off.
–
We are more than characters
or thinly drawn caricatures,
I am more than this flesh you see,
you see; I can fester or I can be free.
–
I shed this skin of a former self,
here by the edge of this river running,
running onwards, searching for its shore,
searching for something more,
for its share of the truth,
I shed this skin to let the other
parts of me find their sea.
–
I cast into the river bed
this weight so the rest
can float and form and be.
All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly
Audio version available on SoundCloud:
HOOKED
Time washes onwards
but I recall each wave
I welcomed
over body
like a cover of comfort
like a blanket of trust,
a surrender to the water
warm, deep breath and dive
without drowning,
I recall each wave
but forget
how far it swept
from the shore,
how it left
each time
with a wanting
for more
as I drifted further
though I cannot swim
I am only fool
not fish
and how you fished…
how your hook cut
so deep.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available on SoundCloud…
Damien B. Donnelly 