HUNGER IS NOT A HARBOUR

REBLOG : Right now I long to launch out on a new stage in my life’s journey; to not settle for the status quo. To any other restless souls out there I hope you enjoy reading this poem as much as I did.

Hunger Is Not A Harbour by D.B. Donnelly

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Damien B. Donnelly

Running
to all that is new,
to all I have not yet seen,
attracted to the covered corners
the light can not carve comfort into…

Running
to all I don’t yet know,
to all I have not yet called by name,
haunted by the houses not yet home
and the whispers not yet known…

but what of where I have been,
what of the comfort once created,
what of the stories already told,
what of the lives I held once,
for a time,
in my hold?

Am I bold
to this running,
this longing to be always
up and leaving,
shunning reason
for this constant craving,
for another corner to caress creation,
to suppress starvation?

But hunger is not a harbour,
it is not where still waters rest, still.

It is the rest…

the current
carving chaos
into the crest, craving,
the waves
rushing up and over,
always and ever…

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COLOUR ON CURT CORNERS, PART 7; OUR SHADE IN TIME

REBLOG: This is my favourite poem. When I read it I feel like I’m cosily cocooned within the layers, the “million meters mounded into magic”. I love how the shape of the text mirrors the shape of the dress. Savour the words that ripple and flow like the dress itself. For more poems and other writing, and for delightful photos in Paris head on over to Deuxiemepeau; Picturing Poetry by D. B. Donnelly.

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Damien B. Donnelly

Look for me
in the layers lost,
in the careful caress
that concerns the contours
of form and finesse. The million
meters mounded into magic, turned
and twisted into tastes now termed timeless,
look for me in the yards that yield towards yellow,
that burn into beauty, like ochre opening, that grow towards
the gleam of green, that flit and flow like a feather in flight, like rays
of the old days that ripple on the water. Look for me by the curt corners
of concrete where complacency converges, look for me where the columns congregate,
creation is not just a concept concerned with procreation
but with the colours and costumes

we claim to parade our personality.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

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COLOUR ON CURT CORNERS, PART 5; COLOURED SHOWERS

I couldn’t have had a better start to my day than seeing these beautiful photos of wisteria cascading down a building in Paris and reading the wonderful poem alongside. What a vision in mauve! Just had to re-blog! Photos and poetry by Damien B. Donnelly.

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Damien B. Donnelly

IMG_8583Lilac showers
Parisian walls
to lift the day
from tones of grey,

colours whisper
to hungry minds
from lithesome leaves
to planting seeds,

branches bound
like blood to body,
to walls so willing
like veins now filling,

lilac leans
with leaves of green,
gently swaying,
thoughts are weighing,

nature bends
to hear my call
and pens take flight
on lines at night.

All Words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

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COLOUR ON CURT CORNERS, PART 1, FANTASTIC FLUTTERINGS

After setting up my first ever blog (about exploring colour) and makng my first post I set out to explore other blogs and found this delightful urban mural in Paris and accompanying poem, the first “find” in my journey of exploration and discovery into colour. It made me very happy. Thank you deuxiemepeau

Damien B. Donnelly

IMG_8273On dull days
when the sun
absconds from sky,
when grey grinds
gloom into gutters
and mothers utter
‘stay inside’,
children’s minds
flutter to unfold
like umbrellas opening;
colours cascading
over concrete clutter
like candy to calm
a calamity.

In the midst
of the mundane
and the murky,
inspiration catches
on the canvas of creation
like wings willing
to cut through clouds
and gain the grace
of the sun.

Children’s minds,
so magnificent,
hold matter so magical
that ordinary moments
can become such
extraordinary miracles.

All words and photograph by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud: 

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