Ravensong Poetry And Writing Blog by Donovan Baldwin

The raw beauty of nature's embrace

Hot sunlight on her bare skin,

The intimate touch of leaves and wind,

And the sensual caresses of rain.

Her emotions run wild with the

Captivating pleasures that

Transport her to a world,

Where, touched by natural words,

She responds as if to

Love's most natural touches.

- Copyright December 12, 2023 by Donovan Baldwin

#NatureLovers #EmbraceTheFeeling

Labels: caresses, donovan baldwin, emotions, intimate, natural, pleasures, poem, sensual, skin, sunlight, touch

BY DONOVAN BALDWIN

I sometimes sin.
You are absent...
I take your hand,
Phantom thing,
Guide it as if
You were to touch me,
Closing my eyes
With the pleasure
Of the moment
Imagined as only
I can alone
And your hand
Is so far away,
Yet I feel your touch
And that's the sin.

-----

In my fragile understanding of woman.
She introduced me to personal
Intricacies of her body, guiding
An innocent boy, longing to learn,
Along her lustful loving
pathways of pure passion,
Love taken to loftiest levels,
Stripped of sin, made holy
Blazing with innocent intensity.

-----

From warm air to cool water,
Skin prickling, tingling
As I slipped deeper into
The loving ocean which,
Unlike the air and sun
Dared touch all over
Raising, rousing,
All young senses,
Bringing dreams,
As I floated,
Embraced in
Its loving
Familiar
Way.

-----

true lovers embrace no shame in their nakedness... expose everything

-----
Memories of boyhood,
Blackberries, bicycles,
Swimming in the bay,
And baseball.
The thunk thunk thunk
Of the ball slapping
Into our gloves,
Crack of bat on ball, trying
To pitch like Whitey Ford,
Hit like Mickey Mantle,
Field like Nellie Fox
At the age of twelve.


-----

Couldn't hear the words
But, from the waving of arms,
The golfers were quite angry,
We boys wondering why they
Were so bothered as we
Rode our bicycles across
The first and eighteenth
Fairways, between tee and cup.


-----

never sought my love
watched dawn beside the ocean...
hoped she would find me


-----

Copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, haiku, poem, poetry, sin, touch, woman

By Donovan Baldwin

Those little lines on maps,
The smallest, sometimes mere dots,
Most boring lines meandering, but,
Upon the earth, becoming
The most daring routes
Beckoning the foolhardy,
Irrepressible adventurers, and,
Poets, who specialize in turning
Boring lines into beautiful
Pathways of the imagination.

-----

Embracing in our cozy love nest,
Intimately entwined in search of
Mutually consensual ecstasy,
Each making love to... for... the other,
We reach that consummate state
Of orgasmic bliss, feeding upon
The pleasure given to our lover.

-----

i'm too old sometimes
the visible part you see...
inside much younger

-----

so bold is her touch
as if sculptor seeking me...
i pose barely breathe

-----

skin touched by night's breeze
in moon glow so sensuous...
goddess in the flesh

-----

i think i taste you
in the flavor of your name...
almost like kisses

-----

i plant my kisses
hope to cultivate your love...
reap the benefits

-----
Poetry copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Image: Road Map of the state of Arizona, USA

Labels: Arizona, haiku, kisses, love nest, poems, poetry, taste, touch

By Donovan Baldwin

touch without touching
inner thrills and vibrations
penetrating thoughts

-----

gasping and grasping
lovers fall beneath the weight
of heavy desires

-----

succumbing to our
intensity of feelings
with maddened passion

-----

Entranced he noted
How ample her heart,
How alluring her mind,
How appealing her words,
She was everything he dreamed,
And she made love with him
In so many ways beyond
What the human body
Could begin to
Understand.

-----

slip into my bed
wrap me in your loving warmth
leave me exhausted

-----

dive in deep waters
bathed within your warming love
currents of amour

-----

please don't be subtle
take my hand and guide my touch
let's play show and tell

-----

Labels: donovan baldwin, feelings, lovers, poems, poetry, take my hand, touch

By Donovan Baldwin
rest ballerina
how arduous your efforts
creating beauty

-----

ensnared by my words
bound by ardent poetry
willing submissive

-----

sunset's exposé
colorful production in
cinematic hues

-----

fore my yearning eyes
you pass aware of my gaze
and power you wield

-----

without touch i feel
without sight i can see you
always there for me

-----

written on my skin
poured into my thirsting mouth
your amorous words

-----

beneath the sky's fire
lit by sunset we ignite
bursting into flames

-----

beneath our blanket
we lovers perform our own
rising at the dawn

-----

poet i thought i
wrote you into existence
but learned you were real

-----

Most eclectic bookcase,
Built by my father into one wall,
Floor to ceiling with books
Literary guild,
Book of the Month Club,
Bible and Britannica
There I found
The old tattered book of poems,
Hunted Moby Dick,
Rode with the Musketeers,
And read of many troubles
I was too young to understand,
But, I learned at this school, this
Most eclectic bookcase.

-----

she sparkles glitters
a plethora of colors
my dancer of light

------


Copyright March 2020 By Donovan Baldwin

Labels: ballerina, bookcase, donovan baldwin, poems, poetry, power, sunset, touch, words

BY Donovan Baldwin

If I could create true poetry,
Wordless it would have to be,
Thoughts only possible within
This old poet's heart and mind,
Memories, experiences, wishes,
Beyond the bounds of language,
Which can never be found as marks
Upon pages which pass away with time.

-----

touch with lustful hands
embrace with demanding arms
kiss with fevered lips

-----

warm my mouth with yours
stain my lips with your kisses
color of nectar

-----

welcoming mistress
swelling bosom of the sea
ocean memory

-----

what finer pillow
than my dear love's own soft breast
where i rest my heart

-----

sing your song once more
the soft sweet one that won me
when first i heard it

-----

- Copyright February 2020 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, haiku, kisses, mistress, poems, poetry, touch

FRIDAY 20191101
*hide within nature
i seek in the wind and trees
hoping to find you

SATURDAY 20191102

I am a running stream,
A raging storm,
A gentle breeze,
In essence avalanche,
Motionless mountain,
Wolf among the trees,
Timid mouse in shadow,
Hunter and prey,
Part earth,
And wind,
And rain,
And sun,
And moon,
Eternally moving
Universe of myself,
Daring and sharing
Molecules and atoms
All into one,
Mingling,
Becoming,
Expanding into
Outer existences
About me,
Making them
Part of my all.

-----

*simple fantasy
more than random ecstasy
fully planned pleasure

*i long to keep you
place you on private display
only for myself

*greatest gift i bring
not gems or precious metals
but my loving heart

*all i really own
your hands cannot touch or hold
so i gift my words

*wonder if i lie?
my lips say all you need know
with their true kisses

*recline upon sand
cool waves bathing your body
heated by desire

SUNDAY 20191103

It's those tiny stars which
Prove the dark so rich and thick,
Lonely candles full of secret promises,
Each twinkling light
An imaginary word,
A cryptic promise,
Written brightly upon
Our page of the universe
Awaiting effortlessly forever
Contemplation,
Translation,
Understanding,
Action.

-----

In one passage I read,
And reread more than once,
Was an explanation,
An understanding of
Our sad exciting humanity,
And the great tasks
Which infinity has assigned
To we small humans
Who have free will,
That most frightful of powers,
And, the most human.

------

*she opens slowly
her blushing honeyed blossom
i softly savor

*morning elixir
delicious warmth fills my mouth
from your lips to mine

*i am your hostage
voluntary prisoner
not seeking rescue

MONDAY 20191104

*beware how you touch
for a true heart once aroused
loves eternally

*once we've made our love
some of each remains within
part of the other

*mightier than sword
careless pen leaves bleeding wounds
or carves miracles

*i'm set afire by
her kisses, touches, and words,
a flammable feast

*let my words be mist
tender vestiges of touch
you feel forever

*the you that i crave
can't be seen in a mirror
yet i see clearly

*read between my lines
feel what my words cannot say
but you understand

-----

Each morning,
I pick up and put on,
All the clothing
Trappings
Accoutrements
Which serve to make me me
Identifying me
To others
And, to myself,
For, would they know me,
Or, I know myself,
If I did not have
The keys in my pocket,
The glasses on my face,
The words in my head,
Put there by my history
And heritage?

-----

How big is the story
Which I must write?

How many words will it take
To truly tell what happened
To me and the world,
In the reality I alone
Experienced?

How much does it matter
If I tell it truly,
Or, as I remember it,
Faded now with time
And learning,
And desires,
Both since fulfilled
And forgotten?

How long will it last
This story I wish to tell?

-----

*Open the floodgates of the mind,
The mind filled to overflowing
With the words and images,
So carelessly gathered
Over decades of living
Oblivious to the storytelling
And poetry of the day to day
Activities and mundane conversations
Which are the seed of exposition
And fiction, fantasy, and
The overall art of words.

-----

*remember the dance
when we were held as lovers
moved beyond music

*i quit expecting
and that was when you happened
unexpectedly

*be sorry later
or be glad you took a shot
ecstasy is now

-----

I, like farmer in his field,
Turn thoughts, like clods,
In hopes to yield...

Some harvest of ripe poetry,
As tales of romance,
History...

Or, perhaps some wisdom fine,
Encapsulated in
Precocious rhyme...

Or, perhaps it may simply be,
A crop of meaning
But to me, so...

I, like farmer, sow and reap,
Store it up,
As mine to keep...

-----

The warrior's burning eyes swept o'er
The host of the enemy.
Testing his weapon's weight in his hand,
With no thought that he might flee.

Weary beyond what flesh should bear,
Bloody with wounds of war.
Determined to stay and meet the fate
The gods had named him for.

His flaming gaze swept left and right
Heart leapt at the sight displayed,
Comrades in gory unbroken line,
The best of his friends on parade.

Still to this day they recite the tale
Of those who held that battle line,
Stood fast till the enemy fled,
Ground stained with battle's red wine.

They chant the names of fallen ones,
And those who survived that day,
Offer homage to the warrior breed,
Who gave a gift no one can repay.

-----

TUESDAY 20191105

*you sleep beside me
so close i can feel you breathe
my most constant dream

*beat me with your words
cause me the pain of desire
soothe me with your acts

*at touch of your hand
i gasp in intense pleasure
quiver with delight

*memories of touch
make my breath come hard and fast
I weep with longing

-----

I've been hurt so much,
So deeply,
That I suppose I am composed,
Of scar tissue and distrust,
Finding it difficult to bend
To discern if this dream
Is truer than those
Which, in their collapse,
Left me broken and battered,
Weary and sore,
And yet,
Again,
A blind phoenix rising.

-----

The poet sings of tragedy
And, by the telling,
Lightens the load upon the soul,
Perhaps by clothing it
In meaningful words
Which give it purpose,
Or, perhaps, by
The sharing of the dirge,
Turning those who hear,
Into mutual pallbearers.

-----

As if one glowing thing,
Glimpsed within the fog
Of some disappearing dream,
The details turn to mist,
Yet, somehow, the beauty remains,
So is an ancient love
Given a patina of wonderment
Which masks better forgotten realities.

-----

I own so little other
Than thoughts in my mind,
The words which
Sometimes trip so lightly out,
Sometimes stumble haltingly
Over one another in an attempt
To make a meaning,
And beauty,
So often the same,
At least in the eyes of
Their poetic parent,
Who tends them so tenderly.

-----

*ups and downs of love
can shake you make you unsure
still be a fun ride

WEDNESDAY 20191106

I wander winter woods,
Trees dancing naked,
Shiver in the chilly wind,
Dropped raiment,
The many fallen leaves,
About their rooted feet,
No longer needed.
Those wanting green gone,
Replaced by perverted people,
Desiring bare limbs instead
Intently intimate
Gazing at their naked idols.

THURSDAY 20191107

*you're the tune i play
gentle hands deftly touching
precious instrument

*desired in all ways
falling into fantasy
when i think of you

*twinkling of your eyes
that raised eyebrow and soft smile
so captivating

-----

THE POET'S GAZE

The poet looks upon some common thing,
Sees it through a special form of mist,
Which, leaving it the same, transforms
It in the poet's eye, and mind, and words,
Changes it to a newer fresher form,
Presents it then to other viewers,
Showing it another way, they,
Might not yet have imgained,
But for the poet's gaze.

-----

FRIDAY 20191108

I, with my cheap red wine,
Toast the moon, the stars,
The darkness of the night,
Which turns the world into
A place fit for drinking poets,
For, the sun, the king of daylight,
Does not activate the bardic soul
As does the silver lady and her cohort,
In their black velvet dress,
Scattering silver over everything.

------

I want my words
To tell you who you are,
Trace the sensuous curves
Of your seductive mind,
Point out the arousing thoughts
Which tumble so daintily
From your kissable lips,
Describe,
As best mortal man may,
The beauty of the woman,
The female person,
That you are,
And have never seen,
And would not recognize,
But, for my words.

-----

*i bring you roses
symbols of love and desire
pricked on by their thorns

*blindly i descend
into the mine of your love
in search of treasure

*i watch from afar
love beyond what is allowed
alone in shadows

*i have heard your song
you never knew i listened
it was beautiful

SATURDAY 20191109

*love is many things
raging fire and cooling rain
you touch me that way

*together we love
satisfy mutual needs
private show and tell

-----

Put your words upon a leaf,
Print them with a moonbeam,
Set the leaf upon the wind,
To be read and repeated
As song by birds at sunrise,
And, I will listen with
Other than my ears,
Translating the notes
Into "I love you's",
Becoming a part of me,
Never to be forgotten

-----

*small secret flower
petals shyly opening
her beauty revealed

*sweetest gift drops
pearly dew of paradise
lover's refreshment

*words should not be traps
enticing revelations
never coercion

-----

What causes dreams
If not desires
Invisible awake,
Manifesting themselves
When darkness
Is all that may be seen,
And the mind escapes
Mundane matters
Dredging up hidden wants,
Unusual solutions,
And expectations?

-----

SUNDAY 20191110

POEM: RAMBLER AND SHAMBLER

I am a rambler,
Shambler through field,
And along the shore,
Listening to birdsong,
And the crack of dawn,
The silent symphony of sunset,
Filling my poet's pockets
With a beachcomber's
Flotsam and jetsam,
Like an artist with a welder,
Turning common objects
Into things of beauty.

-----

POEM: AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT

The light paints what I wish to see,
Morning amber glow washes
Everything I see with a tint of gold,
Nature becomes art,
Even a modern suburban street
Becomes momentarily
A painting by Van Gogh,
Or perhaps Lautrec,
And, taken instantly by the light,
I arrive in other places and times,
Miles and centuries away,
Yet, suddenly, at the speed of light,
I stand there on Parisian streets,
And sometimes upon
The surface of another world.

-----

*sweetest morning gift.
your mind touches, caresses,
phantom lips kiss mine

*i kneel before you
expectant adoration
at my idol's feet

*she can feel his heat
as it spreads, rises within
in sensual flames

*i write words for you
reaching with poet's fingers
shyly touching you

*looked into her eyes
at one unguarded moment
saw her hidden fires

*taut legs tangled sheets
her moans a lusty whisper
winning her struggle

-----

How can this staid old poet,
Have so much gypsy blood,
Wine red blood which boils in moonlight,
Roiled by the sound of mad guitars,
Or sad sad violins,
Stirred by old stories,
Tantalized by tales,
Of times which might have been,
Maybe never were,
But, damn well should have?

------

See her there,
The naked woman on the canvas,
Staring at another place
Another time.
Is she thinking about
The millions who will see her,
Adore her,
Lust for her,
Curse her for her lewd display,
Or that the artist will live forever,
His face forgotten,
While her name will perish,
But face and form remain?

-----

*i reach out to you
my hand almost touches yours
then shyly withdrawn

*fading light of dusk
short term memories I hold
your words tenderly

*we love skin on skin
every touch a new revealing
exciting secrets

*she drops her petals
shows blushing buds and blossoms
her garden in bloom

*kissed by passing winds
flower reaching for the sun
arched in her delight

*if i kiss your neck
will you think me too forward
or lean aginst me?

*i write you in words
weave you into poetry
to be read often

MONDAY 20191111

*sunrise blush upon
her two breathless rising moons
and celestial smile

-----

I wander in the darkness
Contemplating the dawn of day
The illumination of history
In today's light.
A repetitive cycle,
By which we survive
Putting our problems to sleep,
Sometimes finding them
Less intractable in a newer glow.
Sleep's not a solution,
But a rest, a renewal.

-----

Cold wind and rain
Driving dark before
Beneath the winter moon
Hidden now and then
Shyly dancing behind
Clouds frozen between
The sky's black blanket
And the shivering earth.

-----

*rain upon her rose
glistening wet bejeweled
becoming diamonds

*our bedtime story
nights of soft caresses
and hard kisses

TUESDAY 20191112

*no pretense she shows
wondrous depths her pleasant soul
and unconscious grace

-----

I had a conversation,
Me and John and Mark,
And that lady,
What's her name?

A daily sort
Of coffee klatsch,
With a rotation
Of old,
And I DO mean old,
Acquaintance.

To be formal,
Mr. Steinbeck,
And Mr. Aurelius
And the lady,
Who wishes to remain
Anonymous,
But, no gentleman, I,
Must reveal,
Ms. Browning.

We chat, we do.
I read what they say,
Agree,
Disagree,
Argue,
Sipping their coffee
On their behalf,
And nodding
At our collective wisdom.

-----

*as shadows lengthen
my desire remains as strong
if not even more

*i give birth each day
to new children of my mind
written into words

^not just poetry
tracings of my love's desire
written history

-----

I pour a glass of the amber liquid
Softener of memories,
Play, "The White Rose of Athens",
Again and again,
Blending memories of fantasies
With great Kentucky bourbon
Staring into a moonlit darkness,
Across a sea of moving
Silver tipped hills,
Seeing a face
Hidden in the moon,
Until,
Finally,
The music fades to silence,
The lonesome bottle,
Faithful dead soldier,
Stands empty guard
Over full and floating dreams,
Bathed by
Softly remembered moonlight,
Shining in another life
Which never happened,
But in desires and wishes,
Hearing one last echo of,
"Till the white rose blooms again..."

Turning with a sigh,
I pick up my pen,
And write the words...
"I pour a glass of the amber liquid..."

-----

WEDNESDAY 20191113

complete surrender
submerged in her ecstasy
erotic reward

-----

I, self-proclaimed writer of poetry,
Read a bit of doggerel,
Listen to a country song,
Watch a stream skipping over rocks,
A bird flying by on a way to somewhere,
Assist the sun in rising, later,
Putting him to bed, and,
Welcoming my lady moon,
Lay down my pen in darkness,
Close my eyes, and,
Let my poem write itself.

-----

*shadows in the night
silver moonlight dark dancers
musical embrace

*you are always here
in a corner of my heart
my secret lover

*i'll not wake my love
but guard her from the shadows
watching through the night

live soldier and i
inventoried the effects
of a dead soldier

*i search for beauty
write what i find in the hope
you can see it too

*so hesitantly
she trusts herself to my arms
becoming certain

*delightful outfit
she models so fetchingly
wearing but a smile

THURSDAY 20191114

*sweet sensual song
opening notes first sung low
rise to crescendo

*silent notes at first
shyly hid beneath her hands
burst forth love's paean

-----

I worry not about sanity,
Especially my own,
For what is sanity, but,
Sincere belief in ourselves,
How we live and what we do,
And, insane how do we know
We are insane or sane,
And, sane, how do we know
We are not insane?
It doesn't really matter,
For I am a poet.

-----

Someday wonderful things will happen
To this fine race of humanity,.
First we must agree on wonderful,
And, while at it, humanity,
It's our many visions of right and wrong,
So many separations twixt me and thee,
Make tentative civilizations wobble
Like children learning to walk.

-----

*make love to music
stimulating serenades
soft tender ballads

*our moon mounts the sky
on ladder of sparkling stars
to shine on our love

*i betray myself
despite attempts to hide love
you can see through me

*it's a story we write
two lovers so far apart
long for each other

-----

As light fails,
I walk a path
Beneath stars so near,
Or far,
Depending on the night,
My mood,
And company,
Down to the shore
Where the ocean
Seems to roll
Much more quietly
Than by the day,
The raucous gull,
Not there to distract,
From contemplation,
Of the distance
I cannot see
But only imagine.

-----

*you the air i breathe
a whisper upon the wind
i turn you're not there

FRIDAY 20191115

The passersby just see
An old guy,
An unknown gray haired guy
Walking alone in the park.
If they could see inside his young mind
They would see a strong man,
A happy laughing man,
Dancing with his love,
Now gone but not forgotten
To music only he...
And she...
Now hear.

-----

*her beautiful eyes see
a man i cannot see but
will be for her

*swordsman on horseback
nearly lost in drifting mists
relic of the past

*tastes of a night's love
memories of excitement
and you on my lips

-----

Leaves abound upon the ground
Acorns crunch beneath my feet,
It's gray now and the wind
Blows cold clouds across
A sky with a frozen sun,
It should be an ending,
Yet, to me, another beginning.

-----

*her dainty landscape
explored beneath my fingers
reveals its secrets

*we two simply sit
clothed head to toe not touching
yet we're making love

-----

Copyright 2019 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, fantasy, haiku, hold, love, poems, poetry, raging storm, touch