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moonlight drifts like mist revealing lovers entwined... within silver robes • Donovan Baldwin

brittle candlelight while crystalline violins... play old memories • Donovan Baldwin

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. • Donovan Baldwin

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. • Donovan Baldwin

Up on the hill stands the old broken fortress of Heidelberg. In her dust-powdered wig from yesterday, Still standing watch over her city, Though bare, broken bricks show through, and Sagging breastworks prove her youth's long past. Far down, flows the cold, blue-gray water Of the Neckar, With the old, arched bridge, Perhaps seen in postcards, Showing it in sunlight, But, In my mind it is last seen On a rainy April day. As I turned to view the bridge, Behind me, The vine-entangled castle brooded, About all the sad history she's endured. She's been burned, you know, and Damn near destroyed so many times. Even so, she still watches over the city. They say there's a curse on The old Heidelberg castle, But, he who laid the curse is long since dead... Still, the old lady stands there, Rain, sun, snow... Watching over her city. • Donovan Baldwin

loving gardener helping tiny bud open... waking shy flower • Donovan Baldwin

on her satin skin his fingers trace poetry... she sighs soft as silk ----- taught me simple words to speak with her of love and life... embracing more than meanings ----- flavor of her mouth lingers on my tongue and lips... hunger and thirst for more ----- your mouth a playground eager land of lips and tongue... love overflowing ----- lover's touch a breath each caress on secret skin... drives desires unward ----- beyond sexual freedom to be intimate... a higher level ----- a smile on her lips as he moans and asks for more... pleasure she causes ------ each breath a caress windblown satin over skin... my soft colored words ----- naked in the night moon's silver robes cast aside... two shadows entwined ----- touching soft tendrils seeking for a tiny bud... deep within her leaves mid curling tendrils a secret entrance lies... an orchid's petals open to his fingers as her blossom weeps for joy... beneath his caress ----- • Donovan Baldwin

there is a woman that others cannot understand... one she keeps hidden • Donovan Baldwin

truly sensual appears socially proper... her little secret • Donovan Baldwin

The morning air was softly warm. No.(http://warm.No) Not quite warm, but, not quite cold, either. Fog hung over the water of the bay, before the Sun rose, the world ending in a curtain of gray hanging a few feet from the shore. I slipped down to the leaden water lapping gently against the sand, and, Slipping off my clothes slid naked into the comforting water of the bay, While a heron watched, like Polonius, partly hidden by the fog's curtain. The water was too shallow to swim there, but, I splashed around, Reveling in the freedom, the feel of sand, water, and air, As each brushed past my boy's goose-bumped body. In less than ten minutes I returned to my bicycle on the shore, and, With my clothes, put my public identity back on, and pedaled off into the day, Leaving Mr. Heron with a story to tell about the strange bird he had seen in the fog. • Donovan Baldwin

"The notary was present, and he said that he'd never read in any book of chivalry that a knight errant had died in his bed so calmly, and in such a Christian way as don Quixote, who, amidst pity and tears of those surrounding him, gave up the ghost; that is, he died." - 'Don Quixote' by Miguel de Cervantes A TIME TO DIE By Donovan Baldwin Call when morning's blossom Lingers still before my eyes, Or when I've touched my neighbor; At that time let me die. Show me roses in a garden, or Fields stretched beneath the snow, Catch me dreaming, maybe singing, I'll be prepared to go. Don't come when hate surrounds me, or Simply take me as I sleep. At the moment of my leaving, Give me one fine thing to keep.

They tell me that I have B.O., But, "That's a lie!" I cry, "Not so!" They claim I don't bathe well at all, In bathtub or in shower stall, Because the soap I daily use, Is not the kind that they'd have me choose. Nor, do I squirt the squirty-stuff, That they assure will do enough Which keeps my pristine body sweet, From top of head, to soles of feet. My response is, "Balderdash!" That sort of stuff gives me a rash. From both boob tube and magazine, They point, and cry, "Unclean! Unclean!" Although I try my very best, Their voices wreck my nightly rest. "Your armpits and your breath both stink! Grease and hair clog the bathroom sink!" My eyes are red, my head now aches. Which pill or powder should I take? They want to sell, and not cause harm, But, they've sent me to the funny farm, Where nice young folks in white walk past, Without a word about my gas. • Donovan Baldwin