Friday, June 08, 2018
Poem: Conversation With The Moon
By: Donovan Baldwin
One night I wandered aimlessly
As night fell on mountain, plain, and sea.
I sighed, and sadly sang a mournful tune,
Which caught the ear of Lady Moon.
Moon wondered why I sat so sad,
And, spoke her wish that I be glad.
"But, Lady Moon," I wept to say,
My dearest love is far away.
Miles and miles from me she sleeps,
Between the sands and ocean deeps.
I love her greatly, yet cannot go,
Kneel at her feet to tell her so."
Lady Moon glowed then silver-white,
And, said, "I see her every night.
She gazes in the sky for me,
Sees secret lover's words from Thee.
She keeps your words locked in her heart,
And, dreams of days you're not apart.
Then, pressing moonbeams to her breast
In peaceful slumber takes her rest.
As memories of your silver song,
Play in her dreams til night is gone.
When the Sun, she wakes to see,
Her first words are that she loves thee.
Copyright 2018
One night I wandered aimlessly
As night fell on mountain, plain, and sea.
I sighed, and sadly sang a mournful tune,
Which caught the ear of Lady Moon.
Moon wondered why I sat so sad,
And, spoke her wish that I be glad.
"But, Lady Moon," I wept to say,
My dearest love is far away.
Miles and miles from me she sleeps,
Between the sands and ocean deeps.
I love her greatly, yet cannot go,
Kneel at her feet to tell her so."
Lady Moon glowed then silver-white,
And, said, "I see her every night.
She gazes in the sky for me,
Sees secret lover's words from Thee.
She keeps your words locked in her heart,
And, dreams of days you're not apart.
Then, pressing moonbeams to her breast
In peaceful slumber takes her rest.
As memories of your silver song,
Play in her dreams til night is gone.
When the Sun, she wakes to see,
Her first words are that she loves thee.
Copyright 2018
Labels: distant love, distant lover, love poem, moon, moon poem, poem about separated lovers, poem about the moon, poem by Donovan Baldwin, poetry, romantic poetry, sad poem
Thursday, June 07, 2018
Poem: Would I Cry?
By: Donovan Baldwin
If one day I awoke, and you were not there,
My computer screen was blank,
Without a message from you,
And, I was left to wonder...
Would I cry?
If I sent a question, or told a story,
And there was no response,
Despite repeated requests,
And, I was left to wonder...
Would I cry?
If I began to think that it was over,
That you no longer cared about
What I thought or dramed,
And lived a life withot me...
Would I cry?
If I realized how much you meant,
But, had forgotten how much you were,
In my heart and in my mind,
Every moment of each day...
Would I cry?
Of course I would.
If one day I awoke, and you were not there,
My computer screen was blank,
Without a message from you,
And, I was left to wonder...
Would I cry?
If I sent a question, or told a story,
And there was no response,
Despite repeated requests,
And, I was left to wonder...
Would I cry?
If I began to think that it was over,
That you no longer cared about
What I thought or dramed,
And lived a life withot me...
Would I cry?
If I realized how much you meant,
But, had forgotten how much you were,
In my heart and in my mind,
Every moment of each day...
Would I cry?
Of course I would.
Labels: love poem, poem, poem by Donovan Baldwin, poetry, sad poem, would I cry
Monday, June 04, 2018
Poem: We Only Work With Words
By: Donovan Baldwin
We only work with words,
We poets do,
To sing,
To draw,
To point,
To link,
To loosen that which must be free.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
As best we can,
As they come
As they go,
Or stay,
Emblazoned on our souls.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
So variable,
So insensible,
So certain,
So unsure,
So real,
So lying and yet, because...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
We love,
We laugh,
We sing,
We praise,
We demand,
We defend,
And sometimes...
We fail.
For...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And words are clay, which,
Though molded properly,
And sure and glistening at first,
May slump or turn drab,
In the heat of day and sight of men.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And ask the reader to read,
What was in minds and hearts,
When set upon the page,
With eyes like ours,
Who saw the sun and sky,
And tried to sing its praises,
But missed the mark.
So too, with love, and honor, and courage...
Read our tales with piety and pity,
For the round-shouldered scribe,
Trying to make beauty out of letters,
For...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And must leave the living,
And understanding of our work
Up to you.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
To sing,
To draw,
To point,
To link,
To loosen that which must be free.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
As best we can,
As they come
As they go,
Or stay,
Emblazoned on our souls.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
So variable,
So insensible,
So certain,
So unsure,
So real,
So lying and yet, because...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
We love,
We laugh,
We sing,
We praise,
We demand,
We defend,
And sometimes...
We fail.
For...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And words are clay, which,
Though molded properly,
And sure and glistening at first,
May slump or turn drab,
In the heat of day and sight of men.
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And ask the reader to read,
What was in minds and hearts,
When set upon the page,
With eyes like ours,
Who saw the sun and sky,
And tried to sing its praises,
But missed the mark.
So too, with love, and honor, and courage...
Read our tales with piety and pity,
For the round-shouldered scribe,
Trying to make beauty out of letters,
For...
We only work with words,
We poets do,
And must leave the living,
And understanding of our work
Up to you.
Labels: beauty, donovan baldwin, poet, poetry, poets, truth, words
Sunday, June 03, 2018
Poem - Where My Mind Wanders
By: Donovan Baldwin
Where my mind wanders, I must go,
Down darkened alleys,
With wet cobblestones,
Reeking of the garbage,
Of the human race
Into the blazing light,
Of the most glorious
And wondrous thoughts,
And actions of,
That same strange species.
One moment, ink to angels,
Another of the most demonic breed,
Brothers and sisters,
Capable of the sublime,
Or of slaughter,
Of innocents.
My torn mind is one with
All of theirs, and,
So, I must follow
Recording, for history,
For myself,
And for all others,
Of our breed.
Able to choose kindness,
And love, we choose,
Destruction and pain.
Able to choose the worst,
We choose the best.
Oh, what a tangled mass,
Of humanity and inhumanity
We are, and yet,
Somehow, with fits and starts,
Moving forward into some
Unknown oblivion,
Which will be recorded,
By the historian of man,
This unblind poet, who follows,
Blindly, recording all
The humanity and inhumanity
Of fellow man,
Doomed to write about,
All that is seen and sensed,
Where my mind wanders.
November 2017
Where my mind wanders, I must go,
Down darkened alleys,
With wet cobblestones,
Reeking of the garbage,
Of the human race
Into the blazing light,
Of the most glorious
And wondrous thoughts,
And actions of,
That same strange species.
One moment, ink to angels,
Another of the most demonic breed,
Brothers and sisters,
Capable of the sublime,
Or of slaughter,
Of innocents.
My torn mind is one with
All of theirs, and,
So, I must follow
Recording, for history,
For myself,
And for all others,
Of our breed.
Able to choose kindness,
And love, we choose,
Destruction and pain.
Able to choose the worst,
We choose the best.
Oh, what a tangled mass,
Of humanity and inhumanity
We are, and yet,
Somehow, with fits and starts,
Moving forward into some
Unknown oblivion,
Which will be recorded,
By the historian of man,
This unblind poet, who follows,
Blindly, recording all
The humanity and inhumanity
Of fellow man,
Doomed to write about,
All that is seen and sensed,
Where my mind wanders.
November 2017
Labels: donovan baldwin, humanity, inhumanity, kindness, mind wanders, poem, poet, poetry, sadness, slaughter, sorrow, sublime
Saturday, June 02, 2018
Today's Thoughts - The Stupid Things Our Enemies Say... And What I Think About Them
By Donovan Baldwin
I just saw a post somewhere else, where a thought was taken out of context and presented, loudly and with fanfare, if you will, as the central core of an opponent's belief.
When we are thinking about problems, we often meander down several paths, turning back, sometimes with bloody noses, before we reach a sane conclusion, decide to put it aside and try again later, or just give up.
Still, it's those dead end, or t-intersection paths, that somehow often become part of the journey to a sensible solution. It's how we think a problem through... at least, it's how I do it.
This is why I try to control myself and not jump on headlines, sound bites; playing in the dirt with the tantalizing foibles of my "opponents", as a kitten plays with a piece of string... to roughly the same end. If I play with it long enough, I may get enough of the game, even believing I've "won", but, I still haven't solved anything.
Things, events, thoughts, ideas, possible solutions, and just plain apparent stupid meanderings of mouth and mind need context before we can truly consider them to be representative of another's thoughts... even our enemy's.
Sometimes, the "context" is that they know more about the subject than we do.
I try to keep THAT in mind too.
I just saw a post somewhere else, where a thought was taken out of context and presented, loudly and with fanfare, if you will, as the central core of an opponent's belief.
When we are thinking about problems, we often meander down several paths, turning back, sometimes with bloody noses, before we reach a sane conclusion, decide to put it aside and try again later, or just give up.
Still, it's those dead end, or t-intersection paths, that somehow often become part of the journey to a sensible solution. It's how we think a problem through... at least, it's how I do it.
This is why I try to control myself and not jump on headlines, sound bites; playing in the dirt with the tantalizing foibles of my "opponents", as a kitten plays with a piece of string... to roughly the same end. If I play with it long enough, I may get enough of the game, even believing I've "won", but, I still haven't solved anything.
Things, events, thoughts, ideas, possible solutions, and just plain apparent stupid meanderings of mouth and mind need context before we can truly consider them to be representative of another's thoughts... even our enemy's.
Sometimes, the "context" is that they know more about the subject than we do.
I try to keep THAT in mind too.
Labels: donovan baldwin, enemy, problem solving, putting things in context, solving problems, thoughts
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
You Are So Loved
By: Donovan Baldwin
You are so loved, that I,
As in my morning bed I lie,
Dream I'm resting by your side,
Sea, and love at highest tide,
We hear the waves on sandy shore,
Roll and beat, one more, one more,
And driven by each beating wave,
Reach for each other... hope to save...
The memory of that morning love,
Whole til death... beyond, above.
While loving you is wave within,
A rolling tide without an end.
May 22, 2018
You are so loved, that I,
As in my morning bed I lie,
Dream I'm resting by your side,
Sea, and love at highest tide,
We hear the waves on sandy shore,
Roll and beat, one more, one more,
And driven by each beating wave,
Reach for each other... hope to save...
The memory of that morning love,
Whole til death... beyond, above.
While loving you is wave within,
A rolling tide without an end.
May 22, 2018
Labels: love, poem, poetry, romantic poem, romantic poetry, sea, tide, waves
Monday, April 16, 2018
Poem: This Thing Sweeps Over Me
By: Donovan Baldwin
I have lived with hurricanes,
And dared to ride the wind.
I love thunder and lightening, and,
Come alive in the stormiest of storms.
Challenge wakens my soul,
Causing me to stand tall and proud.
But, this thing sweeps over me,
Leaving me breathless and in awe.
It is the feeling that I feel,
When I think of her.
If I could hold her hand,
Encirle her waist with my arms,
Once kiss her lips with mine...
I am not sure that I could breathe.
April 2018
And dared to ride the wind.
I love thunder and lightening, and,
Come alive in the stormiest of storms.
Challenge wakens my soul,
Causing me to stand tall and proud.
But, this thing sweeps over me,
Leaving me breathless and in awe.
It is the feeling that I feel,
When I think of her.
If I could hold her hand,
Encirle her waist with my arms,
Once kiss her lips with mine...
I am not sure that I could breathe.
April 2018
Labels: donovan baldwin, kiss, love poem, love poetry, poem, poetry, romantic poem, romantic poetry
