Ravensong Poetry And Writing Blog by Donovan Baldwin

Her amorous intruder

Enters her garden

Through the portal

She left open.

She...

Goddess of the garden,

Shivers with delight

As he opens,

Brushes past her gates.

Once captive inside

She feels deeply each of

His questing movements.

His headlong rush

And retreat

Along her inner path.

Soft petals trembling

Driven back and forth

At each intemperate passage.

One tiny bloom rising to meet

Each new assault and retreat

With each deeper thrust

Into her secret depths.

Until at last he

Lies gasping upon

The bed they cultivated,

Savoring the seed they planted,

Lost within her dewy petals,

Both victorious in defeat.

Gracious to the last,

Her intruder gently withdraws,

Leaving marks and trails

Of their garden tryst,

Thirsty kisses left as

Reward upon her tiny soldier,

Who strove so bravely to the end,

And among trembling petals

Of her weeping blossom.

Copyright November 20, 2023 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, erotic poem, garden of love, poetry, sensual interlude, tryst

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