Ravensong Poetry And Writing Blog by Donovan Baldwin

Original poetry by Donovan Baldwin, poems about dance, dancing, dancers.

I fragile as friable rock,
Reduced to powder,
Carried away by
Transparent water,
Burned by the earth's
Tongues of fire,
Seeking beauty
Within my limited
Sphere of vision,
As she, object of my desire
Dances, writhing serpentlike,
In ancient ritual
To an abandoned harmony
Which only
She and I can hear.

-----

All men once were boys,
Boys will become old men,
Girls need canes and walkers
When their hair grows gray and thin.

Enjoy it while you've got it
Dance the dance and sing the song,
Make the best of what you're given,
Cause you'll not have it long

-----

bare limbed she dances
this voluptuous woman...
proud before my gaze

-----

she hears music play
a song for two to dance to...
she dances alone

-----

touched by dawn's fingers
body lit by the sunrise...
dancer in the wind

-----

dancers in moonlight
aware but of their partner...
as the music plays

-----

clad in moon's cloak
she dances into my arms...
we kiss the cloak falls

-----

though dancing alone
she feels his arms around her...
coveted embrace

-----

She is a secret thing,
Of fantasy and dream,
Phantom figure in the
Back corners of my mind,
Swirling dancing woman,
Eyes bright with the heat
The music and the fire
The wonder and the wine,
Timeless dancer, her face
Smiling across the flames,
And the span of ages,
As she dances ancient rituals
The artlessly seductive way
Women have known since
First a man and woman
Desired each other
Naked outside of Eden.

-----

trees sing in silence
mighty hymns but few can hear...
dance in their stillness

-----

your shadow dances
there among the dying flames...
burning memory

-----

we dance as lovers
our most unrestrained desires...
acted to music

-----

I saw her dance
Never trained,
Yet so natural in
Movement of her body,
More in time to some
Inner music, than,
The rhythmic beat
That others heard,
Which faded before
The sensual music
Of her body,
Playing to ancient
Rhythms, causing both
Her and I to smile
With open pleasure.

-----

Often dance, more than art,
Is a celebration of life,
An acknowledgement of
Body and soul
Given,
Trained,
Practiced,
And...
Set free
To express its
Desire,
Exuberance,
Love,
Gaity,
And even...
Debauchery,
Lust,
Desolation,
Uttered plainly in movement
To the fullest extent
Of feeling and emotion.

-----

Original poetry copyright March 2021 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: dance, dancer, dancers, dancing, donovan baldwin, dream, haiku, poems, poet, poetry

dancing a passion
she steps to music she hears...
wishing he could see

-----

she reveals herself
drops words and phrases like veils...
naked poetry

-----

this mature woman
revealing her needs and wants...
dances without veils

-----

fingers as my brush
palette of avid colors...
you my work of art

-----

i never accuse
for I too have often sinned...
we're only human

-----

painting you i use
colors of naked desire..
and love mixed with lust

-----

dances with the leaves
dress whirls to familiar wind...
dreams of her partner

-----

- Copyright November 2020 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: dancing, haiku, passion, poems, poetry by Donovan Baldwin

By Donovan Baldwin

strangers sit apart
brought together by events
meet with unknown friends

-----

dancing in her joy
poetry of her body
beauty and meaning

-----

sleeping like spoons
sharing the pressure and warmth
each breath a caress

-----

i sought her today
hunting faces and places
found her in my heart

-----

loving caresses
bodies in constant motion
how touching that is

-----

crossed the rio grande
del rio to acuña
returned quite debauched

-----

Old walls have stories,
Weathered old buildings,
Long standing trees,
Which someone planted,
Then lived, loved, hated.
Babies were born and
Time passed, the children
And the trees grew,
All got old until,
The human planted roots
In the ground like the tree
The walls crumbled,
And the house grew gray
And died, but,
The story remained.

-----

When I was a boy,
We would drive east on Cypress St.
The road would bend to the north
And become E Street.
At that bend, sat an old,
Unpainted house,
Leaning south towards the bay.
Abandoned by all,
But ghosts I imagined.
I went home and it was gone.
Just the grassy plot
Where it once stood.

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Art: Cafe in Paris by Leonid Afremov

Labels: Acuña, Cafe in Paris, dancing, Del Rio, donovan baldwin, haiku, Leonid Afremov, loving caresses, old walls, painting, poems, poetry, Rio Grande, sleeping like spoons

By Donovan Baldwin

Dance for me, Salome,
Move in that fabled way
As you once did for Herod,
Demanding all he had to offer,
For your reward.

As you did him,
Make me insane with lust and want,
Push me to the place,
Where all else fades,
But you...

And nothing matters,
But my dark desire for you...
Woman...

Who can rule my heart,
Capturing its beat,
Within the movements of her body,
Stirring it with,
Designs drawn with hands and arms and legs...
Illuminated by
The dark lightning of her eyes.

Define my existence,
With just a look, a word,
A move.

Dance that sinful way for me,
Show me the steps which lead
To Heaven,
Or to Hell...

Just one time.

Dance for me that way...
Salome.

Labels: body, dance, dancing, desire, donovan baldwin, Herod, lust, poem, poet, poetry, Salome, sin

By: Donovan Baldwin

The late John W. Bubbles (John William Sublett 1902 - 1986) was doing a soft shoe routine on the Ed Sullivan Show, one night. He was in his 60's. He was joking as he danced, and, at one point said something like: They say I don't dance like I used to.

He laughed and said, "I don't do NOTHING like I used to."

Being in my 70's now, I get it, Sir.

Actually, I found that as years of my life passed, I didn't do things the same.

As I aged, I realized that how I did things, how I thought about things, how I reacted to things, changed. Not all at once, and not in every way, but, they did change...or, I did.

As we add experiences, and acquire the free, often painful, education that life provides, our perception of the world, of people, of events, changes.

For some of us, these changes, and there will be many, may be subtle. For someone else some may be intense, and, also, as life sometimes is, painful.

We may not recognize, or acknowledge, all the changes, but, they are happening.

Trying to remain "the same" year after year, decade after decade, is one of the most painful things we can do, and, can become more painful than simply accepting, and adapting to, change.

Sometimes it is necessary, useful, or, simply, the right thing to do, but, whether we fight or follow, life wants us to move and grow, and teach.

It's frustrating trying to help others learn what we learned the hard way, before they have to learn it the way we did.

But, get used to it. After all, we didn't believe our teachers either.

Labels: dancing, donovan baldwin, Ed Sullivan, Ed Sullivan show, getting older, growing old, John W. Bubbles, John William Sublett