Thursday, December 04, 2025
POEM: WITHIN THE DARKENING WOODS
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| DONOVAN BALDWIN |
And changing as sunlight peeks around, hides behind
Gray clouds, streaming through branches swayed by wind,
Varying the patterns on the hard dirt ground.
There is life all around, birds singing, wind
Blowing, trees swaying, shadows changing,
But, not too far away, dark woods standing,
Tree shadows blocking out the sun.
Among all this light, activity, and life,
I find myself reminded of boyhood memories,
When I lived my adventures, exploring woods
In sunlight, with the wind, surrounded by birdsong.
Aware even in that life, of dark woods full of peace,
And coolness, and silence. Silent as a tomb,
They like to say, and that is how I thought
Of the darkening woods somewhere else back then.
Now, so many years later, I am again aware,
Of the dark shadows underneath the trees,
Which stand over my shoulder reminding me,
It's almost time to walk into their cool world.
Copyright 2017 By Donovan Baldwin
Tuesday, December 02, 2025
ESSAY - WHY DO I WRITE?
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| Donovan Baldwin |
They have, they believe, something to say.
Right?
Well, for a "non-writer", that may be sufficient, but, the word "writer" is a slippery devil. It, of course, can be used to define anyone who takes up pen (or keyboard) and... well... writes.
Something!
Anything!
I have written standard operating procedures which were published and distributed to several sections of a military facility... made the "law of the land", if you will. Still, that, to ME did NOT feel like "writing".
Now, when I write poems, or even small screeds such as this one, I am, to my mind, a writer. In this writing, I am turning loose what a lady named Subi Nanthivarman so delightfully refers to as her "Writing Genie", or, apparently, "WG" to friends and coworkers.
Wonderful concept, I think.
For me, it's that weird little thing in my brain (in my case a Leprechaun-like creature), that has things to say and insists on sharing them with its human host in this symbiotic relationship. I don't control it, nor it me, yet, when it asks for pen or keyboard, I must comply.
For me, THAT is when I, with the aid of my faithful side-kicker, become a writer.
Why do I write?
Because as an obedient servant to the creature within, I must obey its demands or suffer the consequences... something like an addict suffering withdrawal.
Labels: donovan baldwin, how to write, reason for writing, why write, writer, writing
Monday, December 01, 2025
VENUS HAS BEEN BORN, AND OTHER POEMS, DECEMBER 1, 2025
BY DONOVAN BALDWINDONOVAN BALDWIN
Venus has been born,
Beauty emerging from sea,
Ocean's salt liqueur,
Heralds the birth of goddess,
And the lust she shall invoke.
-----
accompany you
through dens of iniquity
where we share our love
-----
spank me she whispers
lays herself across his lap
awaits her reward
------
she won't hide from me
for our secrets are the same
needing to be shared
-----
she suspects i watch
her body starts to tremble
knowing whet i see
-----
brings him his belt
naked ass exquisite pleasure
she begs him for pain
-----
The daughter of Anne Boleyn,
Elizabeth first was so thin,
Her twenty-one inch waist,
So tightly was laced,
With a corset to squeeze her in.
-----
coiled about us
bindings made of love and lust
and silken desires
-----
on quivering skin
his invasive syllables
find their within
-----
sharing her pleasure
open to the world she walks
her mission is love
-----
she'd not dared to show
intensity of desires
that he'd praise her for
-----
ebony her hair
with gray cursive curls within
halo of passion
-----
caress on my skin
like a flowing summer breeze
touching all over
-----
lifetime of giving
among people who just take
till almost empty
-----
pierced by passion's spear
body burned by constant flames
swallows love's liqueur
----
hands on trembling pen
together we write of love
cursive lines that burn
-----
sin has not scarred her
good and bad created her
this woman you love
-----
greeted a stranger
welcoming him to her land
where all could share love
-----
poems to someone
"beautiful and far away"
in hopes she reads them
-----
She stared into the night. So many secrets. So many hidden things. So much condemnation when she revealed herself. Then she met the poet. His words seemed not only to absolve her, but to praise the intensity of her loving spirit. Hesitantly, she revealed secret by secret, sin by sin... and he listen. He smiled. He nodded. He spoke quietly, "You're safe to be yourself. You're with me, now," and she felt the chains break and the cage doors open.
-----
dips into her pool
creates ripples of desire
over her lips' edge
-----
she craves the big sins
the i have done it all sins
with him at her side
-----
carefully she kept
collections of fine pleasures
he had shared with her
-----
face behind the face
a demon or a beauty
which is hiding whom
-----
my lover disrobes
a mature mortal woman
a goddess dancing
-----
finely tuned pleasures
internal vibrations
crystal arias
-----
make me no excuse
bring me your joys and sorrow
to share together
-----
anthem aria
words of a forgotten song
poem on the night
-----
Now I don't want any drama,
Because I have ordered a llama,
It comes from Peru,
And in a week or two,
I'll be a proud llama mama.
-----
If you enjoyed these poems by the Fort Worth poet, you might enjoy his essay, Living Like A Slave In The Modern World.
Labels: Anne Boleyn, donovan baldwin, Elizabeth, erotic poems, Fort Worth poet, love poems, poems, poetry
