Ravensong Poetry And Writing Blog by Donovan Baldwin

By Donovan Baldwin

Is my name still remembered,
When those whose paths I've crossed,
Look out upon the ocean waves.
Do they remember the times we sat
Together by fires on the sand,
Making meals and merry,
With the sea's song and bounty,
And the many tales that haunt it,
Best told at the edges of that
Equal abyss of ocean and night,
Where ghosts of other adventurers
And poets who have lost their way,
Still roam, their words upon the wind...
"Is my name still remembered?"

Labels: donovan baldwin, ghosts, ocean, poem, poetry, poets, sea

By Donovan Baldwin

moments of pleasure
our afternoon interludes
times of guiltless sin

-----

falling leaves floating
side to side on autumn breeze
humming through the trees

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my words messages
poems adrift on the sea
seeking your soft shores

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Old customs leave us
To be missed a bit
Perhaps as memory.
My great aunt Lula always
Wore her "widow's weeds"
In public after uncle Irwin died.
Respecting his memory,
Widow in public,
Woman at home alone
In her simple floral dress,
Hair up in a bun,
Awaiting death.

-----

Life is a two edged word
One edge is obvious,
Necessary...
Existence.
The other is optional,
Less specific...
Pleasure.
Yet one gives the other
Worth,
Value,
Purpose,
To truly live
One must live.
Tricky word,
Those who understand...
Understand.

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humming an old song
near forgotten melody
wordless memory

-----

her brilliant flower
love's sweetly scented blossom
in nature's garden

-----

nature speaks to me
ancient tongue i understand
but cannot utter

-----

I am never alone
For discourse I, at least,
Can see one side
Upon the page,
The words of,
Philosophers, and
Frivolous fools
Poets, potentates, and
Pundits,
And, as for company,
Your eyes upon me
In my imagined room,
Hand warm upon
My shoulder,
As I read.

-----

Some own the land
On which I stand,
But none all that I see.

And for the ocean
I have the notion
It alone belongs to me.

Those with gems and rings
Own material things,
Which reside within my being

They'll never own
For they've never known
The poet's way of seeing.

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strange though i may be
i am but poet at heart
sharing dreams in words

-----

madly making love
lost in the moment's passion
our desires set free

-----

who i am inside
lover of life sun and wind
i will share with you

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Poetry Copyright 2020 By Donovan Baldwin
Art: Adam & Eve by Adriaen van der Werff

Labels: customs, fools, forgotten melody, guiltless sin, haiku, ocean, pleasure, poems, poetry, poets, two edged sword

By Donovan Baldwin

I know well,
This dark fire of which
Rostand did speak.
It burns without burning, flames
Dancing to a music only certain
Mad poets hear, blinded by
The dark dark fire
Which burns so high
Warming body and soul
To blazing fevers that signal
A special kind of illness,
That never quite ends,
And can never be healed
On earth.

Labels: dark fire, donovan baldwin, fire, illness, poem, poetry, poets, Rostand

By: Donovan Baldwin

We only work with words,
We poets do,
To sing,
To draw,
To point,
To link,
To loosen that which must be free.

We only work with words,
We poets do,
As best we can,
As they come
As they go,
Or stay,
Emblazoned on our souls.

We only work with words,
We poets do,
So variable,
So insensible,
So certain,
So unsure,
So real,
So lying and yet, because...

We only work with words,
We poets do,
We love,
We laugh,
We sing,
We praise,
We demand,
We defend,

And sometimes...
We fail.

For...

We only work with words,
We poets do,
And words are clay, which,
Though molded properly,
And sure and glistening at first,
May slump or turn drab,
In the heat of day and sight of men.

We only work with words,
We poets do,
And ask the reader to read,
What was in minds and hearts,
When set upon the page,
With eyes like ours,
Who saw the sun and sky,
And tried to sing its praises,
But missed the mark.

So too, with love, and honor, and courage...

Read our tales with piety and pity,
For the round-shouldered scribe,
Trying to make beauty out of letters,
For...

We only work with words,
We poets do,
And must leave the living,
And understanding of our work
Up to you.

Labels: beauty, donovan baldwin, poet, poetry, poets, truth, words

By: Donovan Baldwin

It was a sunny morning this morning, and, after breakfast, I had an errand to run.

I was in a full-belly, quietly contemplative mood as I stopped at a traffic light at a railroad crossing, in a not too pretty part of Fort Worth, Texas..

I noticed the sunny day, green trees, and became aware of a slight golden ambiance to the scene in front of me. As I was wondering what could be making railroad tracks, and the crumbling church across the way look almost as if painted by Renoir, I glanced to my left...through my clean side window.

Everything suddenly appeared quite normal in color, and, ambiance?

What's that?

Anyway, all this lovely atmosphere had been created by a dirty, dusty windshield.

Isn't that how life is sometimes?

Poets and other writers speak about viewing things through rose colored glasses.

How we see things, either with our eyes or through the multiple lenses of experience and lore, can have a huge impact on how we live IN the life we have, and how we appear to others.

I got home intending to clean the windshield. I've got to go back out tomorrow and not really looking forward to that errand.

Maybe I'll leave the windshield like it is for one more day.

Labels: ambiance, donovan baldwin, Fort Worth, life lesson, poets, texas, writers

By William Williford

Poetry dates back to 4000 B.C. and started out as simply a form of song and recital with being orally spoken. Poetry started out as a way to preserve history, folklore, stories, genealogy, and law through various scenarios such as recordings. Poetry appears among the earliest records of most literate cultures.

The oldest surviving poem is the Epic of Gilgamesh, which was written on clay tablets from the Mesopotamia period. Most believe that the poems represent legends of the Sumer, which is the earliest known civilization in the world; the poems also consisted of their mythological king Gilgamesh.

En-hedu-ana (Enheduana) is the earliest known poet. She was a princess from the Akkadian period 2285 B.C. - 2250 B.C. she also was known as a high priestess of the Moon God Nanna in UR. Her collection of religious works is untitled and is referred to as Hymns To Inanna.

In ancient history the development of Poetics was formed. (Poetics) is the study of the Aesthetics of poetry which evolved to separate poetry by Form and to distinguish good poetry from bad. Aristotle's Poetics separated the art form into three classifications being Epic, Comic, and Tragic also set up a law of rules to separate the highest quality from each class. Then later came along a new breed of thinkers that changed the classifications to Epic, Lyric, and Dramatic and developed two sub-classifications under Dramatic Poetry being Tragedy and Comedy.

Poets of today usually write poetry in the modern form of Prose Poem and Free Verse. Prose poetry adds raised emotion and imagery the prose form was used quite often by the French from the 19th into the 20th century. Free verse poetry breaks all the rules of rhyme, meter or any other musical style staying away from any type of rhythm or rhyme in most poems.

For more info. and free poems submission please visit our newly launched poetry site.

Article Source: Poetry Dates Back to 4000 BC

Labels: authors, free, poem, poems, poetry, poets, writers