Wednesday, June 27, 2018
My Love/Hate Relationship With Great Thinkers
By Donovan Baldwin
It's a little ironic that I tend to categorize the following thoughts as "thinking out loud".
I have a love/hate relationship with "Great Thinkers". I think (can't get away from that word) that they are great (oops). I love to read their thoughts, and contemplate them with pleasure, or to grab an imaginary weapon and attack them.
Still, that's the point.
They think, thought, and passed those thoughts on to others, such as myself, stimulating more thought, perhaps to be passed on as well. Or, to tell the truth, to be played with, mangled, mutilated, and manipulated to fit my thoughts, my personal philosophy of life and self.
Not to say that MY thoughts will be wonderful, better or worse than theirs, yet, "thought" is one thing that makes us human.
"Thought", and great thinkers, do not generally feed us, fix our cars, or even aid in the birth of (or conception of) our babies. Yet, it is the presence of, and the presentation of, "thought" and "thinking", along with the arts that allows us to claim that we are a bit more than the animals, and, (maybe) better than plants... though less than angels (although there are a few who come close).
So, rambling on to an end, I read Great Thinkers, get mad, argue, agree, and live... with new thoughts I might not have discovered in my own head.
After all, I'm only human.
It's a little ironic that I tend to categorize the following thoughts as "thinking out loud".
I have a love/hate relationship with "Great Thinkers". I think (can't get away from that word) that they are great (oops). I love to read their thoughts, and contemplate them with pleasure, or to grab an imaginary weapon and attack them.
Still, that's the point.
They think, thought, and passed those thoughts on to others, such as myself, stimulating more thought, perhaps to be passed on as well. Or, to tell the truth, to be played with, mangled, mutilated, and manipulated to fit my thoughts, my personal philosophy of life and self.
Not to say that MY thoughts will be wonderful, better or worse than theirs, yet, "thought" is one thing that makes us human.
"Thought", and great thinkers, do not generally feed us, fix our cars, or even aid in the birth of (or conception of) our babies. Yet, it is the presence of, and the presentation of, "thought" and "thinking", along with the arts that allows us to claim that we are a bit more than the animals, and, (maybe) better than plants... though less than angels (although there are a few who come close).
So, rambling on to an end, I read Great Thinkers, get mad, argue, agree, and live... with new thoughts I might not have discovered in my own head.
After all, I'm only human.
Labels: donovan baldwin, great thinkers, life, philosophy, self, thinking out loud
Poem: I Missed You
By Donovan Baldwin
I missed you, you know...
I never told you,
You never knew,
But, I did.
I missed you, you know...
We were apart,
Much too long,
But, you're back.
I missed you, you know...
It made me sad,
Life without you,
But, I'm smiling.
I missed you, you know...
Happens every day,
A minute here and there,
But, we find us.
I missed you, you know...
Happened already today,
About five minutes ago,
But, now you're back.
June 27, 2018
I missed you, you know...
I never told you,
You never knew,
But, I did.
I missed you, you know...
We were apart,
Much too long,
But, you're back.
I missed you, you know...
It made me sad,
Life without you,
But, I'm smiling.
I missed you, you know...
Happens every day,
A minute here and there,
But, we find us.
I missed you, you know...
Happened already today,
About five minutes ago,
But, now you're back.
June 27, 2018
Labels: apart, donovan baldwin, love poem, lovers, missing someone, poem, poetry, romantic poetry
Friday, June 22, 2018
Poem: Hide Me
By Donovan Baldwin
Hide me in your heart, dear,
From those two cruel, and,
Endlessly encroaching beasts,
The brothers, age and time.
Protect me in your warm arms,
Hold me tightly to your breast,
So, when time comes and I leave,
Some part of me may stay with you.
Lock my memory deep within,
Some secret place which only,
May be visited by you, and,
A god who loves lost poets.
Sing my songs, sweet Mayari,
Charming goddess of the Moon,
And write my name forever,
With silver lines upon the sea.
O, you Wondrous one,
Who came into my life so late,
Know you turned back time,
With your gift of youth to age.
July 12, 2017
Hide me in your heart, dear,
From those two cruel, and,
Endlessly encroaching beasts,
The brothers, age and time.
Protect me in your warm arms,
Hold me tightly to your breast,
So, when time comes and I leave,
Some part of me may stay with you.
Lock my memory deep within,
Some secret place which only,
May be visited by you, and,
A god who loves lost poets.
Sing my songs, sweet Mayari,
Charming goddess of the Moon,
And write my name forever,
With silver lines upon the sea.
O, you Wondrous one,
Who came into my life so late,
Know you turned back time,
With your gift of youth to age.
July 12, 2017
Labels: age, death, donovan baldwin, goddess of the moon, hide me, love poem, love poetry, Mayari, poem, poetry, time
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
