Ravensong Poetry And Writing Blog by Donovan Baldwin

 

I heard the wind speak of you.

The waves whispered secrets

That I could barely understand,

And yet, and yet, I craved to meet

This fabled creature never found

On this earth in this life, until,

One day I wrote a poem and

I felt your eyes upon it and

Following the gaze found at last

The hidden woman I had sought.

 - Copyright November 19, 2023 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: donovan baldwin, fable, love, poem, poetry, secrets, waves, wind, woman

By Donovan Baldwin

I hear and understand

The messages of the wind,

Fragrance of bold red flowers

Small secrets whispered among

Trees and grasses, and sung about

By birds and cold running water,

Burned into the souls of us all

In rays of the afternoon sun,

Molded in silver moonlight,

Stories told us by ancients,

When we all were poets,

In bold conversation

Labels: donovan baldwin, poem, poetry, wind

By Donovan Baldwin

Gift of gilt and silver,
Amber, glass, and enamel
Wrapped about in
Gold filigree.
Ancient wedding brooch
From Tara,
Eighth century they tell me.
No need to write a poem about,
Poetry in itself.

-----

if i come to you
will you understand my desires
are the same as yours

-----

two people in love
closely intimately one
kept so far apart

-----

i would say the words
but my touches say much more
if you will listen

-----

life is tough as nails
enduring long ending fast
life can be fragile

-----

Water bathes in one way,
The wind in another.
Each is cleansing,
Each whispering tales,
Hints and suggestions
Of lands and people
Far away and near.
Wind neath the sun,
Caressing the skin,
Arouses feelings akin
To those of a lover,
And a desire,
Like making love,
To slip into
Nature's arms
Once more.

-----

How many books
Are crammed within my head,
Stacked upon the shelves of my mind,
Gathering dust until, taking them down,
One by one I turn the pages,
Read a page a paragraph
Stop and consider the words
Echoing in my brain,
Demanding to be with their friends,
To go out and play.

-----

night is for hunting
take rest in the heat of the day...
advice to a wolf

-----

naked words reveal
innermost desires and loves...
i have no secrets

-----

bare feet on the ground
sun and wind upon my skin...
in nature's bedroom

-----

the stars have their names
humans cannot understand...
shining without us

-----
Poetry Copyright 2020 by Donovan Baldwin
Pictured: The Tara Brooch, a Celtic brooch made in 650 to 750 AD.

Labels: bare feet, books, Celtic brooch, desires, haiku, naked words, nature, night, poems, poetry, Tara Brooch, water, wind

By Donovan Baldwin

I hear the earth songs,
The voices on the wind,
Singing of the trees,
Words made of
The sounds of coyote,
Bird, and bee,
I see the art of nature,
Paintings in green
And gold and blue,
Royal scarlet,
Colors beyond my palette,
To describe
Common
In the rising
And setting of the sun,
The perfectly hewn
Statue of a flower,
A rabbit,
One tiny blackberry,
In colors and textures,
Which can be touched,
And breathed,
And tasted,
And remembered
Forever...
Something no human
Artist nor poet can achieve.

Copyright 10/27/2019 by Donovan Baldwin

Labels: bee, colors, coyote, donovan baldwin, flower, nature poem, poem, poetry, rabbit, sounds, trees, wind

By: Donovan Baldwin

The eerie whistle of the wind,
Trilled and thrilled,
Touched an ancient nerve,
Keening as the dead in darkness,
Raising hackles,
Sending shivers up my spine,
I, modern man of science
And rationality
Prepared without intention,
For fight or flight,
Suddenly reverted to
Skin clad humanoid,
Wishing for the light of fire,
Warmth of my cave,
The company of the living.

Copyright 2019 by Donovan Baldwin

3 March 2019

Labels: eerie, fight or flight, poem, poetry, wind

By: Donovan Baldwin

Kids do stupid things.

Okay, maybe not so much stupid, as out of ignorance of consequences.

The recent hurricanes reminded me of some of the dumb things I did in Florida as a boy. Not just hurricanes, but, when other storms blew in, my friend and I would go swimming in Pensacola Bay.

I don't know what the attraction was, unless it was that moment in a storm, or just before, when the water is flat, unmoving, dull gray like lead, not quite shining like mercury, surreal, framed above by storm clouds.

I sensed something when I saw that. An odd feeling of something strangely different from the day to day experiences of water and life. The bay was usually blue or blue-green and moving, constantly moving. Before the storm it got flat and still.

Somehow that spoke to me of some awesome power that could make water, that water, be still, especially from some unknown distance.

My friend and I would climb slender trees, and hang on, riding them in the wind, swinging our weight in rhythm with the wind, at least having sense enough to head for home before that wind got too strong for mortal boys.

We didn't experience the powerful hurricanes you read about recently, but, still, wind and storm enough to strike fear and create havoc.

We were too young and, well, ignorant, to realize the forces we were toying with. Yet, wouldn't trade a moment of it.

Strong forces, plus a hint of danger, a dash of adventure, plus lots of ignorance equals some grand memories. Had a pretty good boyhood.

Don't know how I, or my parents, survived it.

Labels: boyhood, climbing trees, donovan baldwin, hurricane, Pensacola Bay, storm, wind

By: Donovan Baldwin

I read a poem about the wind today,
I heard the song of a wind of yesterday,
In the words the poet wrote.

As I read the words and listened,
I thought, I know this wind.
This old friend from my childhood.

I remember leaning on the wind,
As it came across the bay,
And held me in its arms.

Its voice sang constantly in my ears,
Telling tales of faraway lands,
And, adventures unimaginable.

The wind showed its strength,
Shaking the trees and
Pushing clouds around the sky.

At night, as I lay in sweat-soaked bed,
It came through the window,
Cooling me and singing me to sleep.

Yes, I know this wind,
This dear old friend,
Of which the poet wrote.

Labels: donovan baldwin, poem, poem about the wind, poem about wind, poetry, wind