Ravensong Poetry And Writing Blog by Donovan Baldwin

 Sweet revelation

When dawn's loose robe falls open,

Splendid secrets loosed,

Bosom of the day above

Ecstasy's hidden entrance

#tanka

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fingers fluttering

almost too fast to follow...

summoning magic

i her student watch

learning her intricacies...

routes of her pleasure

slowly she guides me

giving wordless instructions...

gasps end the session

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she's not a plaything

and yet she can be playful...

and there's a difference

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not overwhelming

but always quietly there...

the way he loves her

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in the night beneath the stars

we made the most intimate love...

without ever getting undressed

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explore each other

lost within our wilderness...

private adventures

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on soft blank pages

i write lascivious lines...

verse that sounds like you

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so like the ocean

foams across a hidden reef...

my desire crashes

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ready warrior

sword unsheathed standing before...

passion's mad onslaught

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hear your silent song

writing how the words would sound...

if i could sing you

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drop drop drop of words

she arches with joyful pain...

as poetry burns her

writhes beneath words

as the poet's candle drips...

ink which burns like wax

as our lips bind us

trails of burning poetry...

inflame new secrets

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at last it's autumn

and all the trees are on fire...

glorious flames before dying

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i write poetry

though my words thrill you inside...

you keep them secret

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butterflies flutter

and a smile crosses her lips...

as his words tickle

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By Donovan Baldwin

Labels: Autumn, donovan baldwin, love, pain, passion, poems, poetry, tanka, thrill, tickle

 dawn's fingers touching

with warm anticipation...

her blossom unfolds

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where are all my words

to describe the pain inside...

i must free myself

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lets her secrets go

all the pain she's held inside...

and carried alone

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love's warm wine flows

lip to lip we share a toast...

drinking her desires

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a lantern of hope

burning with dreams and desires...

keeps the dark at bay

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his lady on fire

what's a gentleman to do...

but help fan her flames

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bird leaps from her nest

kept aloft on pleasure's wings...

not willing to land

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in his midnight dreams

she becomes a poet's wish...

wearing his best words

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we the sun and moon

in our tiny universe...

lighting each other

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she begs him to write

all the bold unspoken words...

that can mean so much

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our souls decided

that we should make one poem...

of our wants and needs

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she stirs in her sleep

a whisper escapes her lips...

far away i hear

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hid her sins from me

until she knew i loved her...

made her sins holy

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In a quandry of desire,

Seeking to satisfy

Needs so long secret,

Yet, how to fit it in

The love they share

She invites him to

Join her in her

Pleasures, teaching,

Touching, guiding,

Apt pupil he, who,

Quickly learns to

Bring her lessons

To their climax.

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the toys by her bed

set the tone for the evening...

the rules flexible

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Labels: anticipation, love, micropoetry, pain, pleasure, poems, poetry

By Donovan Baldwin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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.

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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.

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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