Ravensong Poetry And Writing Blog by Donovan Baldwin

By Donovan Baldwin


her most loving kiss
lips swollen with her desire...
i savor the taste

-----

she tends her flower
garden hidden from my gaze...
watching me watch her

-----

How long have we
And flowers lived together,
They surviving, despite
The destructive nature
Of we sometimes
Abstruse animals,
Who often fail to
Realize how much
Quiet blossoms
Have given us in
Love and beauty.

-----

raising no alarm
sun makes quiet announcement...
first news of the day

-----

my love's greedy buds
demanding my attention...
i treat tenderly

-----

lovers drunk at dusk
sipping deeply from love's cups...
insatiable thirst

-----

Once in Holland,
I saw a mill,
Arms waving,
Blessing,
All who passed,
Present, past,
And future,
Even Quixote,
Whom it forgave,
For his mistake and
Violent attack,
Misunderstanding
In his madness
The benevolent
Gestures as
Belligerence.

-----

i entreat flowers
share with me the mystery...
make me nature's child

-----

The morning sunrise
Enlivened by the
Song of an errant bird,
Colored by golden clouds,
The brightest greens of
Grass and trees,
And flowers...
The wild ones,
Growing willy nilly,
Coloring the canvas
Even more that I
Hang happily in
Each day's museum
Of my mind.

-----

My voyages of discovery,
My trips into strange lands,
In seek of knowledge
And wisdom, where I
Gather all information,
Experience,
And thinking thereon,
Arrive at one major
Conclusion, that I,
Grand adventurer
Seeker of truth
And beauty, truly,
Am seeking,
Discovering myself.

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Sculpture: The Kiss, by Auguste Rodin

Labels: Auguste Rodin, donovan baldwin, flower, garden, haiku, poems, poetry, The Kiss

By Donovan Baldwin

My oasis, your desert,
My pride, your shame,
My future, your past,
My virtue, your sin,
My self, your self,
My love, your love,
That's all I want,
You to come to
My oasis, feel
My pride, live
My virtue, love
Yourself as
I love you.

-----

Bitter is a taste,
Something to be savored
In and for itself,
As much as for comparison
With the sweet or salt.
Taste bitter enthusiastically
For it is as much a part of life
As all its other flavors.

-----

The profound may be incomprehensible to most.

The senseless may be incomprehensible to most.

This should not be taken to mean that the profound is senseless, or that the senseless is profound.

That would be senseless.

-----

eater of her fire
he who feeds at her altar...
consuming her love

-----

her garden of love
holds open bed and pillow...
petals neath my head

-----

shown in high relief
curving of her womanhood...
pulsing with pleasure

-----

I as child
Never loved my toys as much,
As I as man,
Love the words which have
Played so long in
The garden of my mind
Hidden from the world,
For fear of being thought
Foolish... until,
I learned that the foolishness
Was hiding my words,
And ceasing to be a child.

-----

Each book I read,
Each new set of words
Ideas and thoughts,
Changes me,
For better or for worse,
And yet, that is
The meaning of life,
The definition of
Existing,
Cease to change,
To grow,
To add to ourselves,
We die.

-----

They turn their heads
Pretend not to know me
Anymore,
For I dare to say
What they are afraid
To admit about love
And life,
For love is life,
And life is love.
I cannot say,
This is and that is not,
For I love all
In all ways
At all times.
They cannot admit
That they do too.

-----

i have watched you sin
would gladly have absolved you...
but, i saw no sin

-----

she makes me believe
all the things that elude me...
seeing who i am

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin

Painting: At The Oasis by Frederick Arthur Bridgman

Labels: desert, donovan baldwin, garden of love, haiku, love, oasis, poems, poetry, virtue

By Donovan Baldwin

You are wheat field,
A sea of uncut grass,
An oasis, soft dewy
Resting place of
Refreshment, a loving
Embrace and sharing
Of self in the most
Intimate of ways,
Unashamed and naked,
A natural land of
Hard tipped hills
Volcanic forces
Quivering before
A climactic eruption.

-----


her lips are smiling
her hand is beckoning me...
how can i say no

-----

send me a selfie
no photo but your true words...
to remember you

-----

she rains upon me
bold storm from gentle lover...
left wet and shaking

-----

your taste on my lips
feel of your body on mine...
leaving me longing

-----

writing words for her
she quivers at their touches...
at poems within

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Painting: Nude in Sunlight, by Renoir

Labels: donovan baldwin, haiku, nude in sunlight, poems, poetry, Renoir, touches, woman

By Donovan Baldwin

I would watch the storms
Walls of rain clearly defined
Walk, as we say, across the bay,
Purple black streaks painted
From dark sky to dark water,
A silent mysterious torrent
Full of thunder and lightning,
Power displayed too far away,
Yet oncoming reality.

-----

In night's darkness,
The slightly darker
Waves in moonlight,
Curl with glowing crests,
Covering the sand
And receding,
Leaving the wet shore
Glistening somewhere
Between brown and silver,
And a salt spray smell,
Lingers with the echo,
Of the wave now gone.

-----

a warrior gone
battle armor gloves and mask...
death on the front line

-----

each sunrise sunset
watch well and remember all...
this time comes but once

-----

in her secret place
there hides my long vagrant muse...
silent in my ear

-----

if the rain be tears
you become my raging storm...
before which i break

-----

I need no paints
To draw my love,
Nor does she need,
Paints to draw me on,
For the model as she sits
Is the woman I wish to have
Not paints and powders
Baubles added to
Lips I wish to kiss,
Body I long to hold.
Heart I wish were mine.

-----

instead of angel
real experienced woman...
warm true and willing

-----

prisoner am i
life and happiness forfeit...
pacing in my cell

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Painting: The Wave (1869) by Gustave Courbet

Labels: darkness, donovan baldwin, haiku, lightning, night, poems, poetry, rain, storms, thunder, water

By Donovan Baldwin

Dear sinless maiden,
Innocently seductive,
Dancing with more
Than her body,
Lips singing a song,
A love song without words,
Eyes focused deeply
Within my soul
Reading my desires,
As I, entranced, fall into
The snare she weaves,
With that tempting gaze,
Swaying hips,
Bare flashing legs,
And panting bosom.

-----

Pages speak to me
Tales and knowledge
On those fluttering
Leaves which never fall
But turning, shower
Their falling words
Upon the waiting land
Ready to enter into
Eternal seasons of
Learning and reflection.

-----

neath the stars of night
old poet writes his love words...
burning in the dark

-----

My father had his Sunday hat,
His suit, his vest,
Pocket watch with chain and fob,
And that jaunty hat... fedora,
Stetson for workdays,
Until Kennedy came
And men
Quit wearing hats,
Until now when I
Wear my baseball cap,
Lacking the panache
Of Sunday fedoras,
And weekday Stetsons.

-----

two dreams become one
as in tangled sheets we lay...
fantasies fulfilled

-----

trembles not from fear
as love's storm overtakes her...
quivers with delight

-----

the moon will remain
long after we are away...
she will tell our tale

-----

Me and Morrissey,
And Johnny Wall,
Drew a circle in the dirt,
Circle long gone,
Morrissey dead
Two years ago,
And Johnny
God knows where,
Shot marbles,
Then spun our tops,
Or hit a few,
Playing roll-a-bat,
Boys being boys
In memories,
Over half a century old.

-----

Fire on the beach,
Moon high, so many stars,
The flames flickering
Lighting faces,
Laughing teens,
Singing folk songs,
Telling jokes,
Stepping into shadows,
For innocent moments
Of slap-and-tickle,
What boys and girls do,
Around a fire on the beach,
When love is easy to find.

-----

Waves my heartbeat,
Sun my temperature,
Wind my very breath,
Earth lives as I do,
And I as she,
For, without the beats
And breaths of nature,
Life would be so
Dead and dry,
I could not go on,
No cage for me,
No barred cell,
No celibacy, for I,
And nature are in love.

-----
Poetry Copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, flashing legs, haiku, panting bosom, poems, poetry, seductive dancer, swaying hips

By Donovan Baldwin

exchanging poems
in lusty verbal foreplay...
we make poetry

-----

her subtle weapon
secret spear which pierces me...
exhausted i fall

-----

live stream the in thing
running water at sunrise...
the live stream for me

-----

artist awakens
random strokes of red and gold...
dark sky becomes dawn

-----

I write because my fingers say I must,
The burn within will lessen
Only when the energy is used
To push a pen.

Press the keys! Push on!
Let words and thoughts tumble
One over and around the other,
Like puppies playing..

This is joy, you know,
This mad rush of happy.

(Scribbled in a notebook 22 Mar 1994)

------

shade of yesterday
moving as if yet alive...
as ghost among ghosts

(Last line borrowed from "The Name of the Rose" by Umberto Eco.)

-----

I can but reflect
That which has form..
Mirror creates not
The image it reveals,
Nor echo the sound,
It reverberates, for,
Those are realities,
Echo and mirror produce
Not the thing but
Representations...
As my words
Are but shadows,
Of realities
I live.

-----

Long ago
I planted a rose,
Joseph's coat.
It marked a spot,
A memory of mine,
The corner of a fence
Where a treasure
Was once buried.
Flower now gone,
Leaving two memories
For me to hold,
The beauty of the roses,
And the meaning
Of the place it grew.

-----

Journey of
Child to man,
Up and down
The shelves of
A library, one
Book leading
To another,
From space,
To frontier,
To scene
Of the crime,
Detectives and
Cowboys and
Spacemen
Philosophizing,
Repeating
Pretty poetry,
And other
Thoughts
To fill my
Brain.

-----

head upon my chest
her slow sweet breath warming me...
stoking fires within

-----

loving simple ways
our candid intimacy...
innately casual

-----

rain falls from the sky
drops upon blackberry vines...
soon to bear their fruit

-----

delicate blossom
shyly opens to soft touch...
eyes still closed she smiles

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, foreplay, haiku, lust, poems, poetry

By Donovan Baldwin

Goddess Pele
Her erupting pent up passions,
Spewing hottest of love's lava,
Glowing with her exertions,
Primeval dance of erotic
Desires and satisfactions,
Never achieved only cooled,
To arise and burst forth
In timeless display of
The fiery soul imprisoned,
In her earthly body.

-----

She is but a dream
A mystic figure
Glimpsed in the wings of
The backlit stage of my mind,
Stepping into the spotlight,
Innumerable times a day
Performs for me her most
Sensual temptations
Fading back into
Swirling mists
Of desire and
Fantasy.

-----

naked neath my words
want to hold you the same way...
open poetry

-----

this haunting vision
her ethereal presence...
fantasy woman

-----

when you spoke your wish
left it floating in the dark...
i was listening

-----

Old flannel shirt,
Battered baseball cap,
In dire need of cleaning,
Shoes for comfort,
For long walks,
Not fashion,
Dog eared books,
Underlined on
Their yellow pages
With notes in
Their margins,
Sipping wine or
Maybe bourbon,
As my mind wanders
Trying to remember
A song I haven't heard...
Yet.

-----

cast your magic spell
my eyes closed beneath your touch...
as i soar and burst

-----

though roses have thorns
we give and get them with love...
finding the beauty

-----

How did love become sin?
When did its physical expression
Become, anathema,
That is,
Condemned...
Truly loving souls and spirits,
Touching with ardent desire,
Be consigned to hell,
On earth and beyond,
For daring to unite
Body and mind
In unconditional,
Mutual,
Love?

-----

Doors and ceiling and walls,
Nave and apse,
Decorated with angels and demons,
Monsters and maidens,
As, chanting, the monks pass
In and out, intoning ancient words
Designed to summon one,
Repel the other, but,
How's a mortal man to know,
Which is which,
And which is most desired?

-----

In and out through doors,
Story of my life,
Into and out of
Events and times,
Leaving one,
Entering another,
Not sure what I learned,
Or, what lay before, until,
Many doorways lay
Closed behind.

-----

Labels: dream, goddess, haiku, love, passions, pele, poems, poetry, sin

By Donovan Baldwin

LISTENING TO EDITH PIAF SING LA VIE EN ROSE

She sings in that raspy French voice
In a language whose words escape me,
But whose feelings echo through my soul,
Or, are the words meaningless sounds,
She converts to feelings with
That sultry so seductive voice,
The lips forming kisses at my ear,
The sounds penetrating deeply
Touching me as a lover would.

-----

If I love and desire you,
Should I not, as true lover
Love and desire all aspects,
Loving you in all possible,
Though, perhaps, not permitted ways,
Giving and receiving all that love,
Which may pass between us,
And surround us in whatever
Form and function our loving
May inspire or require?

-----

drift upon life's sea
as currents of poetry...
carry me away

-----

nature's many moods
gray today bright tomorrow...
always beautiful

-----

clouded with desires
aroused by touch and kisses...
i see her clearly

-----

heart scratched and burning
by sharp brambles of desire...
the fruit worth the pain

-----

far beyond the flesh
the pleasures within your arms...
loving in all ways

-----

if my hands dared touch
as often my words and thoughts...
you would know my love

-----

her gown falls open
can't look away nor would i...
i have often dreamed

-----

she sweetly returns
my kisses and caresses...
fruit of my labor

-----

as petals on skin
fingertips lightly brushing...
and so she blossoms

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Image: Edith Piaf, La Vie En Rose

Labels: desire, donovan baldwin, Edith Piaf, haiku, La Vie En Rose, love, poems, poetry

By Donovan Baldwin

Beauty in art has
No constant color or design,
For softest pastels and
Hardest, brightest oils and pastels,
Finely grained dark woods,
Hard glowing translucent marble,
Can speak excitement and wonder,
Or wonder and introspection using
The nature of their colors
Textures and design blended
With natures of medium and artist.
Beauty is not in or of one thing,
Combination and composition,
Construction and comprehension.

-----

colors of passion
explosions in red and gold...
love's shared ecstasy

-----

nonstop marathon
lovers pent up together...
treasured and pleasured

-----

i write fiery words
thoughts of you set me aflame...
incendiary

-----

forever in dance
her moves frozen but recalled...
by the artist's hands

-----

images still locked
within faded memories...
flicker slowly past

-----

painted men and maids
cavorting indecently...
in eternal lust

-----

when i go away
i've left my favorite words...
my will in poems

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Painting: September Morn by Paul Émile Chabas

Labels: art, beauty, haiku, Paul Émile Chabas, poems, poetry, September Morn

By Donovan Baldwin

the woman inside
passionate wanton lover...
aching to be found

-----

Words take the place of things,
For, not having this or that,
To show or give,
I scribe marks to tell
Of things known,
Imagined,
Despised,
Desired,
Things touched or only thought,
That each of us may know...
Or not, but, seek to learn of,
And so, I make marks into words,
That others may interpret,
Thoughts hidden in our minds.

-----

behind broken clouds
sun yawns makes his appearance
shuts off his alarm

-----

what do the trees know
youngsters when compared to rocks...
i listen to both

-----

bathed in summer rain
nature's love upon my skin...
each drop a caress

-----

so far from water
yet i can hear and feel it...
ocean in my blood

-----

in silence of night
echo many memories...
vivid in the dark

-----

How stony still the figures,
Of these lovers stay,
Caught in euphoric ecstasy,
Forever exchanging love
Which flows eternally between,
Inciting a stimulation,
A moving current
In each observer,
Moving embodiment of the
Two lovers in sculpted embrace.

-----

Each day, I turn my back to the sunrise
Only to find it taking over the sky before me.
So it is with so many things we try to ignore,
They happen anyway, forcing us to deal with them
Unexpectedly and without preparation.

------
Poetry Copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Image: Statue of a nude woman, Cincinnati Art Museum, photo by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, haiku, lovers, ocean, poems, poetry, summer rain, sunrise, woman

Wrote this back in 1982, when I was still in Germany and still in the U.S. Army. Forgot about it until I happened to come across it this morning...

SOLDIER
By Donovan Baldwin

I'm lying in the mud, water mixing with my blood,
Perhaps I'm riding in a track or in a Jeep.
I'm cozy, safe and warm, far removed from any harm,
Except when I am too afraid to sleep.

I begin before it's light, and continue into night,
Whether slick-sleeve or with stars upon my shoulder.
I'm a boozer and a fighter, or a lover and a writer,
Puttin' in my time while growing older.

Hair that's not been cut away, was brown but's getting gray,
My pocket's empty almost all the time.
My uniforms have creases that can cut a man to pieces,
I use words no dictionary dares define.

Eat from cans, not caviar, and often drive my buddy's car,
Because my wreck won't pass this year's inspection.
I can cross the desert sand, or any piece of land,
Just point out here and there and give me a direction.

I'm paid nowhere near enough, to put up with all this stuff,
And the CO says I don't get paid for thinking.
Sergeants push me to the end, and then on around the bend,
Too proud to cry, I settle down to drinking.

I can't afford a spouse, but I have one...and a house,
Who would think that such a gal could love a soldier?
I can't tell her, or you, why I live the way I do,
The pages of my life filed in a folder.

I gripe, but call me I'll come running, or marching to the drumming,
If you need my life, I guess that's what I'll give.
Like other soldiers gone to war, who paid the price before,
The price placed on the life we want to live.

I can't say that I'll be brave, when the flags begin to wave,
Tattered, ripped, and torn by deadly fire.
I can only say that I, hope to give it my best try,
If I claimed any more I'd be a liar.

I'm a soldier dressed in green, often looked at, seldom seen,
Please spare a moment now to see me well.
For there might come a day, when I'll be called away,
To spend a tour in someplace close to Hell.

And, I might just not come back, when I carry off my pack,
To an unknown place somewhere around the earth.
So, stop and give a smile, that I can take with me a while,
Cause money cannot measure what I'm worth.

- Donovan Baldwin
29 March 1982

'Soldier' - An Original Poem by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: being a soldier, donovan baldwin, poem, poem about a soldier, poetry

By Donovan Baldwin

Lecherous gods pursue,
Nymphs in the woods,
Whose soft laughter belies
Their theatrics of innocence,
Artifices of naiveté,
Running slowly and
Glancing behind,
To assure themselves
Their pursuers,
Have not yet,
Given up the chase,
Before its happy ending.

-----

protected myself
hardened my heart's defenses...
then you conquered me

-----

just a boy at heart
still trapped by the woods and sea...
not seeking escape

-----

sweeter than sugar
i lick honey from your lips...
wet with your desire

-----

a tiny dewdrop
one gleaming jewel at dawn...
over and over

-----

i'm not an artist
mere poet drawing with words...
ephemeral art

-----

write or not to write
never a valid question...
i'll stop when i'm dead

-----

I never asked the wind to blow,
But grateful am I that it does so.
I never requested the sun to shine,
But it does each day as if the wish were mine.
I never put the moon in the nighttime sky,
But my heart swells when it gleams in your eye.

-----

shy blossom folded
opens up and peeping out...
invites bee within

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Picture: Statue of Apollo and Daphne by Gian Lorenzo Bernini

Labels: donovan baldwin, haiku, happy ending, lecherous gods, nymphs, poems, poetry

By Donovan Baldwin

this graceful danseuse
pursuing enlightenment...
dances in her mind

-----

soft soothing sunrise
this peaceful pastel morning...
slow awakening

-----

i disperse my pain
writing aches and injuries...
erasing the past

-----

despite your sweetness
i've tasted life's bitter dregs...
that always remains

-----

well placed black brush strokes
against white paper background...
night... bare trees... fresh snow...

-----

such a peaceful night
you me the moon up above...
a silver embrace

-----

gently winds the wind
wending through trees it wanders...
leaves me wondering

-----

a gentle angel
folding her wings around me...
soothes my troubled soul

-----

Poetry, such slow music,
Limp words substituted
For lilting notes,
Laid upon air or ear,
To an unseen audience,
Poet never to see
A tapping foot, but,
In bored frustrations, or,
Feet driven to movement,
Only in a sidling two step,
Towards the door,
And, a more exciting party.

-----

There's no joy I've known,
As that of a dog set free,
The big red setter, Sean,
With a leprechaun grin,
Laughing eyes, and
Flapping ears,
Plunging into the bay,
Tracking down scuttling crabs
In their defensive karate poses,
With his boy at his side.

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Photo: Dancer Ruth St. Denis

Labels: bitter dregs, brush strokes, danseuse, donovan baldwin, pain, poems, poetry, Ruth St. Denis, sunrise

Original Poetry By Donovan Baldwin

DANCER ON THE SHORE

Is it music from
A long forgotten past?
Is it that which so strongly
Drives her to dance upon the sand,
Lifting her arms in gestures of
Unrestrained joy,
Face filled with glad wonder
As she dances to an awesome
Pounding of drums,
And ancient chants,
Only she can hear?

-----

burning with slow flames
heat builds from your kiss and touch...
until i explode

-----

euphoric events
promote passionate pleasures...
explosive results

-----

these lurid colors
exponentially gaudy...
orgasmic sunrise

-----

some simple black strokes
on a white paper background...
dead trees fresh snow night

-----

the moon and our dreams
visit in the night then leave...
too soon forgotten

-----

My childhood cowboy boots
Grown frail and fragile,
Bent and dry with age,
Only capable of walking in
Fractal fantasies disguised as
Half forgotten,
Half remembered,
Memories of a boy
Still inside somewhere.

-----

I rode wildly,
In a mad rush,
Among the trees,
An old pecan orchard,
Swept away but hoping
Not to be swept off,
The back of the
Bony old nag
Madly amok
Neath the
Saddle

I hoped NOT to part company with.

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: dancer, donovan baldwin, euphoric events, haiku, kiss and touch, lurid colors, passionate pleasures, poems, poetry