Friday, March 06, 2020
CLING THIS CLOSE TO ME, AND OTHER POEMS WRITTEN JANUARY 22, 2020 BY DONOVAN BALDWIN
cling this close to me
surrender tell me you're mine
let us live in love
Art: Dido and Aeneas by Jean Baptiste Germain
-----
no one touches me
eyes are dimmed and i grow deaf
as i disappear
-----
I sit in awe
As I listen to,
The sermon of the storm,
Reminding me,
Egotistical human,
Ruler of the universe,
Or so, I crave to believe,
That there are powers
Greater than my own.
-----
upon tender breast
i rest head and hand and heart
neath her caresses
-----
Cold gray day,
Brings old memories,
From over half a century,
Mama turning up the heat
Before we rose at dawn,
Bedrooms freezing cold
With but a floor furnace
So far away, on with
Robes and slippers
To stand shivering,
Over the rising heat,
As she fixed breakfast.
-----
Never seek to judge
Upon someone else's
Claim of beauty.
Judge with your heart,
And find the beauty,
That touches upon
Your soul, not your eyes,
For that beauty will remain,
And can never be questioned.
-----
wind came stole my leaves
taught them a seductive dance
they performed for me
(image leaves on the wind)
-----
assault of kisses
bold onslaught of caresses
cause my submission
-----
i write many words
woven into coverings
hide naked desire
-----
i fear not the thorns
for your blossom is a prize
earned but with honor
-----
my private pageant
one contestant and one prize
you are the winner
-----
literary thoughts
seem literal facts to some
let's not forget that
-----
i truly envy
recipient of your love
hoping he is me
-----
walking on hot sand
boy matured into manhood
at the ocean's edge
-----
children learn on swings
many skinned knee lessons and
cooperation
-----
Labels: Aeneas, beauty, Dido, donovan baldwin, haiku, Jean Baptiste Germain, memories, poems, poetry
Monday, October 16, 2017
Poem: If Children Could Understand
I long again to see,
The white sands I walked,
When but a boy.
>
Then, but a child, I knew not,
How deeply embedded in my soul
Was every grain of sand,
Each whisper of the wind,
Every roll of wave, and
The bending of each tree.
>
Now, half a century, and
Many hundred miles
Downwind from boyhood,
I see each sight,
Smell each smell,
Joyfully recalling,
The place I felt so happy,
To leave so far behind.
>
If children could understand
What the world they so little love,
Will mean to them in later years.
>
Perhaps then, they would live
In happier circumstances,
Enjoying at home
The passage of each day,
Rather than one far day
Longing to return,
To a time and place,
They truly loved.
NOTE: Photo was taken by me in 1971 of the Pensacola Yacht Club, from across the mouth of the Bayou Chico
Labels: Bayou Chico, boyhood, children, memories, Pensacola, poem, poetry, white sands
Saturday, October 07, 2017
Just A Cheap Old Christmas Star...
Christmas is still a few months away, but, I was thinking about it today. I found an old decoration today.
It's a plain star, cut out of some unknown metal, and painted white. The paint is worn and dull, and slightly chipped in a place or two. The points of the star are very sharp and could injure a child.
Such a decoration could not be sold, or even allowed, today.
I know how sharp the points are because I've been poked by them innumerable times over the last 72 years.
My parents were newly married in the early 1940's and did not have much money> My father wanted to decorate a Christmas tree.
The war was on, and metal was at a premium. Somehow, he and a friend got some small pieces of scrap metal and cut out stars and painted them white.
Simple decorations for a new family with a cheap tree.
Still, to little kids, decorations just at pretty as "store bought", and, over the years, even more sentimental.
I only have one of those stars left. I think my sister has another.
I've forgotten details about a lot of Christmases over the years, but, I remember the pointy, poking, cheap white stars my dad made for his new family.
He's gone over 30 years now, but, at least, one star's still going strong.
That's what love does. It keeps on going. Not always big or fancy, it lasts.
Labels: Christmas, Christmas decorations, donovan baldwin, memories
Friday, October 06, 2017
How Small Is The Road Of My Past...
In the last few years, I have returned home to Pensacola, Florida often. I usually take a moment to visit the house I grew up in at the corner of Cary's Lane and Bayshore Drive.
On those visits, I was struck by how small, how narrow, and how shady, Bayshore Drive is compared to my memories.
It was always peaceful and shady, but seemed even closer, narrower. After years of wondering about it, it struck me.
The train tracks were gone.
I knew the train tracks had been taken up decades ago, but had not realized the difference. The railroad had maintained a right-of-way for the tracks and the train. Since the tracks were taken up, good ol' Mother Nature, with the help of landscapers, had been allowed to reclaim her land.
Things change.
Big things, little things.
Even we change.
As this change goes on, it's natural that perceptions change. I've been coming to think of Bayshore Drive in the "new" way.
Suddenly, remembering how it was, with the train running by once a day, brings back a flood of memories.
Not just how it looked, but, how life was back then.
Nice. Quiet, except for the train whistle, and the occasional jet from Pensacola Naval Air Station.
I was a kid again for a moment, seeing it with a kid's eyes, but, nice.
Wish I could wave at the engineer and get him to blow the whistle again.
But, Bayshore Drive looks nicer now...prettier.
Even trade, I guess.
Labels: Bayshore Drive, donovan baldwin, memories, Pensacola, train, train whistle
Saturday, September 23, 2017
Poem: I Desire No Epitaph
I desire no epitaph,
Just your memories,
To mark my presence and passing.
Speak not of me to friends,
Or, strangers on the street,
For I only wish, that
My memory be in your mind,
And in your heart,
Passed on from you,
To another future era,
Because of respect,
And true love.
I am nothing without,
Your affection and respect,
And await your kind words and actions.
So, beloved friend, think tonight
Of me, and bless me with
Your respect and love.
Labels: donovan baldwin, epitaph, friend, memories, memory, poem, poet, poetry
Monday, August 28, 2017
Why I Have A Harpoon Head In My Bedroom
If you go into my bedroom (Don't look at the mess.), sooner or later you will see something that you might want to ask me about.
Maybe the harpoon head.
If we dig around some more, we'll find belaying pins, marlinspikes, some pieces of fancy knotting, and books on knots.
Things my father owned.
He had a love for fishing, sailing ships, old things related to the sea, and, his hobby was knotting.
Hence all the knotted things he made; a dog leash, a whistle lanyard...now, the whip I can't explain, but, he DID make it. He used to go to an old ship chandler's business in a musty old building down on South Palafox Street in Pensacola.
Often I went with him.
Old guy running it could have been the model for Dickens' "Ebenezer Scrooge", to my young mind.
All I've got left is this stuff...oh yeah, and memories. Memories of my dad, with a book on his lap, belaying pins and marlinspikes driving my mother crazy, as he tried to tie the knots in the books.
Musty, dusty old store.
Musty, dusty old memories. But, they've stood the test of time..
Dad died in 1981. Gone 36 years as I write this.
Miss him, but, still got the memories and the knots tying us together.
The harpoon head? Never knew why he bought the damn thing. Just liked it I guess.
That's how he was.
Me too.
Labels: dad, donovan baldwin, harpoon, harpoon head, knots, knotting, memories, memory, my father, sailing ships, ship chandler