Ravensong Poetry And Writing Blog by Donovan Baldwin

By Donovan Baldwin

the woman inside
passionate wanton lover...
aching to be found

-----

Words take the place of things,
For, not having this or that,
To show or give,
I scribe marks to tell
Of things known,
Imagined,
Despised,
Desired,
Things touched or only thought,
That each of us may know...
Or not, but, seek to learn of,
And so, I make marks into words,
That others may interpret,
Thoughts hidden in our minds.

-----

behind broken clouds
sun yawns makes his appearance
shuts off his alarm

-----

what do the trees know
youngsters when compared to rocks...
i listen to both

-----

bathed in summer rain
nature's love upon my skin...
each drop a caress

-----

so far from water
yet i can hear and feel it...
ocean in my blood

-----

in silence of night
echo many memories...
vivid in the dark

-----

How stony still the figures,
Of these lovers stay,
Caught in euphoric ecstasy,
Forever exchanging love
Which flows eternally between,
Inciting a stimulation,
A moving current
In each observer,
Moving embodiment of the
Two lovers in sculpted embrace.

-----

Each day, I turn my back to the sunrise
Only to find it taking over the sky before me.
So it is with so many things we try to ignore,
They happen anyway, forcing us to deal with them
Unexpectedly and without preparation.

------
Poetry Copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Image: Statue of a nude woman, Cincinnati Art Museum, photo by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, haiku, lovers, ocean, poems, poetry, summer rain, sunrise, woman

By Donovan Baldwin

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

-----

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

-----

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

-----

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

-----

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

-----

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

-----

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

-----

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

-----

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.

-----

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.

-----
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

By Donovan Baldwin

Golden sunrise,
Words a cliché,
But the reality
A truism which
Smashes gently
Through barriers
We erect, jaded
With the excesses
Of modern life,
Yet, sight of
A mama duck
With her ducklings,
Spring flowers,
Peeping shyly
At the emerging
Season of Spring,
Hard to ignore,
So far beyond
Mere clichés.

-----

arousing aura
of sensual innocence
belies her passion

-----

waves rolling to shore
sounds in darkness recognized
seen in the mind's eye

-----

without many words
i reach touching lovingly
chords which make you sing

-----

surface deceptive
things turbulent down below
each our own ocean

-----

ducks skim the water
recalling slow motion films
seen now in real time

-----

sunrises the same
each one beautiful and new
just as with people

-----

red sky in morning
grab my trusty camera
sailors take warning

-----

tracks beside the road
from somewhere to somewhere else
a boy's fantasies

-----

moonlight on the bay
soft ripples whisper of wind
i sat and wondered

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Photograph by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: arousing aura, donovan baldwin, haiku, passion, poems, poetry, sensual innocence, sunrise

By Donovan Baldwin

sun awakes to paint
portraiture in pastels bold...
brushstrokes in the skies

-----

spring's hot breath warms her
opening her pleasure gate
secret garden blooms

-----

our huge old twin oak
rope and board swing from a limb
now just memory

-----

backyard symphony
memory of my childhood
so many bird songs

-----

boy winds through the trees
brief touches of sun and shadow
natural freedom

-----

i will close my eyes
travel to another world
where she welcomes me

-----

hugging from behind
bare breasts covered by my arm
nod to modesty

-----

welcomed to her cave
grotto of carnal delight
where venus rises

-----

Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Pastel sky at sunrise over pond, photograph by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, haiku, hugging from behind, memory of childhood, poems, poetry, secret garden, sunrise

By Donovan Baldwin

sunrise in pastel
muted hues of pink and gold
vibrantly low key

-----

inches above grass
red tail hawk hunts his breakfast
death defying swoop

white heron fishes
standing patiently beside
the still pond waters

woodpecker rhythm
pounded out on dawn's cold air
the world waking up

-----

breaking all the rules
loving the one way we know
mutual pleasure

-----

deep intimacy
touches over eager skin
brings high ecstasy

-----

she watches my hand
explore forbidden places
smiles and offers more

-----

touching with my eyes
i trace your womanly curves
store in memory

-----

pulsing with desire
accept this deep lover's kiss
upon blushing lips

-----

ask me for a kiss
intimate daring touches
i'll deny nothing

-----

fairest of flowers
her rosy petals glowing
dripping morning dew

-----

The waves break gently
Across the feet of lovers
Strolling still warm sand
As the sun sinks into the sea,
Lighting other lands, leaving
The lovers and this land
In darkness, and, in that dark,
They turn to one another,
Sinking to the sand,
Undressing one another,
Make sunset love,
Lovers tossing and turning,
Glowing golden
In the rolling waves.

-----

If you had been painted
Nude and totally revealed,
I would buy that painting
And display it proudly in
The living room,
Without comment,
Proudly ready to defend
The shy but daring lady
So nakedly,
And,
Had I painted it,
So lovingly
Portrayed.

-----

Poetry and photo copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, forbidden places, heron, kiss, poems, poetry, red tail hawk, rosy petals, sunrise, woodpecker

By Donovan Baldwin

Morning walk begun in darkness. Even the sun's not awake.

Rabbits scurry away barely seen in the gray half light.

Slowly, light begins to dawn, hence the word, or vice versa, first to the east, gradually lightening the whole sky. Some reds, yellows, blues.

Shadowy things take shape and substance.

That's how life happens sometimes. Unsure of what we are seeing at first, until some sort of light, delineation, illuminates the scene, allowing us to make out details.

Despite claiming poethood, I don't like to get too mystical about these things. I've too many scars to balance myself entirely on sunrise and roses and rabbits in the dawn, but, I tend to forget they are there as I go about my daily obligations.

It's "nice", simple word, but useful, to reconnect with the momentarily unfamiliar familiar.

So many mornings of my life, I've watched the world's life renew itself, or, sadly, learned of someone or something NOT being renewed this day.

Cycle of life.

Sometimes we get in a rut and only see what we see, or think we see, day after day, and forget the other things.

That's one reason why I like morning walks.

I'm reminded that there's more to know about each day, than just the day-TO-day stuff we all deal with. I can start my day with news, or with rabbits scurrying away in the dewy grass as the sun begins to change the colors of the world from black and gray (grey for my Brit friends), to green and yellow and blue and red, and, waking up the sleepy birds, causes them to sing a sleepy good morning.

Just walking around in my mind, now that, with my help, of course, the sun's up.

Good morning.

Labels: day, donovan baldwin, life, morning, morning walk, poet, sunrise, walk, walking

By: Donovan Baldwin

There wasn't going to be any musings and mutterings from me this morning.

There's a lot going on in my  life that's sapping my creative juices, and, I "just didn't feel like it".

At least that's how the day started, but, being the being I am, I began musing about that, seeing if I could squeeze out some thoughts.

I write my morning thoughts because, despite still being half asleep, and fuzzy brained, it is at this time of day that I feel most able to BE genuinely and originally creative.

As my day wears on, everything, good and bad, becomes a pile of tangled thoughts and issues, leaving me tired and not too forward looking at end of day.

In fact, I tend to get downright pessimistic in the evening.

But, even when I don't feel "good" in the morning, I always feel as if I'm starting with somewhat of a clean slate. If I have learned anything in 72+ years of life, it's that almost nothing remains the same.

Good times, fun things, come to an end, but, so do most bad things.

Sooner or later, we usually get a chance to start over, with something resembling a clean slate. No analogy is perfect, no aphorism sums up all wisdom in a few words, no internet graphic is going to contain all the factors that make up a miracle, but, time can heal, and can provide new opportunities.

The trick is not just to take advantage of them, but to expect them.

Labels: creative, daily writing, donovan baldwin, life lesson, sunrise, writing

By Donovan Baldwin

I miss the day which saunters by so casually upon its way
To all the calm amusements which will fill its time.

We eye each other warily if perhaps we pass as I
Go about my missions, toils, and tasks.

I used to know him well in younger days
With far reduced responsibilities, but now
He's gone the way of gods and I've grown up,
Down to the level of each man's daily life.

Each morning he rises, putting on
The vestments he has chosen, and, calling to him
The flying, feathered finery which will announce
His measured entrance on the scene, and,
Accompany him through the waking hours and discuss
His actions with occasional loud altercations
And whispered disputation
When the world has returned to night.

As he comes on some Spring mornings, he gradually
Removes the blanket of rejuvenating mist and dew
Which was laid upon the Earth that it
Might sleep more soundly.

Oh, the smells that softly ride the air, and
Bring me back to days which happened
Forty years or more ago,
When each morning I could watch the coming of the day
Learning lessons then on how to live
With the wide-eyed wisdom of a child
Which the man who's learned to live with life
Has long forgotten.

I miss the day.

For every time we pass each other by,
Stealing a stranger's glance,
Each of us at the other,
I am again surprised to discover
We've forgotten almost all we knew about each other.
But, sometimes, for just a moment
A dim light of memory flickers in his eyes
Quickly dying as he tries, but, fails,
To recognize his one time friend.

Yes, I miss the day I used to know so well,
Who now hurries by with no time for me,
Or me for him.

Labels: donovan baldwin, old friends, poem, poem about day, poem by Donovan Baldwin, poetry, sunrise, the day