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
Monday, October 30, 2017
The Me Of Now And The Me Of Another Time
By: Donovan Baldwin
I have been "me" for a long time. Long enough to realize that the "me" of any given era or moment is not always an exact replica of the "me" of another time.
This sometimes is brought to my attention by some comment made about one of my posts, articles, or poems. Usually in some form of disagreement, which is fine, by the way.
At a "negative" comment, first I feel something like "you don't know what you're talking about..."
Then, however, I think about the other person's point of view, and try to understand why they say what they say, and, unless it's entirely egregious, I try to grasp their point of view. Doesn't mean I have to agree with them or change my belief, just listen, and try to hear and understand what lies behind the words.
Sometimes, at this time, I realize that they have stated an opinion or belief that I held at some previous point of my existence. Perhaps myself as a younger man, more easily aroused to anger at injustice...real or perceived.
Perceptions, and reactions, change with age, and experience, for, if not made up of experience, action and reaction, what is age, but measurement of time.
It was once believed that age was, in some way, a rough equivalent of wisdom. Perhaps it's not wisdom so much as the accumulated scar tissue and the internal memoirs that come with having lived long...but, perhaps, not prospered.
Yet, we DO prosper in many ways, not just the material.
Maybe my "wisdom" is my perception of life.
This sometimes is brought to my attention by some comment made about one of my posts, articles, or poems. Usually in some form of disagreement, which is fine, by the way.
At a "negative" comment, first I feel something like "you don't know what you're talking about..."
Then, however, I think about the other person's point of view, and try to understand why they say what they say, and, unless it's entirely egregious, I try to grasp their point of view. Doesn't mean I have to agree with them or change my belief, just listen, and try to hear and understand what lies behind the words.
Sometimes, at this time, I realize that they have stated an opinion or belief that I held at some previous point of my existence. Perhaps myself as a younger man, more easily aroused to anger at injustice...real or perceived.
Perceptions, and reactions, change with age, and experience, for, if not made up of experience, action and reaction, what is age, but measurement of time.
It was once believed that age was, in some way, a rough equivalent of wisdom. Perhaps it's not wisdom so much as the accumulated scar tissue and the internal memoirs that come with having lived long...but, perhaps, not prospered.
Yet, we DO prosper in many ways, not just the material.
Maybe my "wisdom" is my perception of life.
Labels: age, donovan baldwin, poems, wisdom
