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We were dancing, Two together Embracing to music Which when it ended Continued in our minds, Never noticing others Had drifted away for We only knew The pleasure of Our mutual embrace And, our intimate Movements to The music only We could hear. • Donovan Baldwin

Of summer winds And Autumn rains, Endless green fields, Flowers of all colors, Sunrise and sunset, Each the same and Different each day Pounding surf of A ceaseless sea, The men and women, Who look and see, And feel, Fumbling for The words and Art they engender, Beauty... Never expressed, Never touched, Never written, Never read, Yet in existence from The moment... Yes... From the moment. • Donovan Baldwin

i've been undone by your seductive innocence... your hidden passions • Donovan Baldwin

such a sweet disease shared madness of poetry... blessed affliction ----- the storm she brings me lashes me with wind and rain... thunders in my chest ----- she is uncertain so aware of his desire... afraid of her own • Donovan Baldwin

where a poet goes when the muse puts forth its call... you cannot enter • Donovan Baldwin

Let's change it up, love. Get OUT of bed, get dressed, Stroll hand in hand in public, Hitting bookstores and bowling alleys, Stopping for coffee and cake, And staring at one another, Face to face across the table, Feeding each other treats, Sometimes stopping to kiss, Smile at the memory of What we've done together, And whisper like schoolchildren, What we'll do when we get back home, And the door's shut behind us. • Donovan Baldwin

There have been so many Somewhere's Sometime's Something's. I lived in a world of Nowhere, Never, Nothing. Then, one day it all became, Here, Now, You. • Donovan Baldwin

The storm blew up as the Sun went down, Tossing the ship like a toy, Aloft, a sailor, in fear looked round, Face ashen, he was only a boy. "Captain! Captain! How can I survive, While this gale is blowing so strong? Will the Sun at dawn still find me alive, Or beneath this sea and gone?" "We depend on you, lad, to do the task, The sails must not rip away. I know it is much that we must ask", He heard his Captain say. The Captain and mates strove all the night, To save the ship and its crew. When the Sun began its daily flight, In a moment, the Captain knew... The lad had lost his chance to live, But had done his task to the end. There's not more the brave can give, Than their life for their fellow men. • Donovan Baldwin

"Let a man walk ten miles steadily on a hot summer's day along a dusty English road, and he will soon discover why beer was invented."  - Gilbert K. Chesterton Two stories out of one quote: I remember one Christmas I visited my sister and her husband. He and I cut wood in the back yard for a while. When we came inside, from the cold, snowy yard, he gave me a beer. I was exhausted. The cold beer he handed me was a great pick-me-up. Number two: The quote is from Gilbert Keith Chesterton, who also wrote the "Father Brown" mysteries. When I was in catholic grade school, in Warrington, Florida, in the 1950's, Father Cunningham, a "dear little Irish priest" was supposed to give us a religion class once a week. Instead, he entertained us with Irish folk tales and Father Brown mysteries, much to the chagrin of the nuns who had to watch this abuse. Eventually, I came across a Father Brown mystery in a library, and started reading all of them...then all the mystery stories I could find, and science fiction, and westerns, and discovered that G. K. Chesterton also wrote essays. Essays led to other literature, and a small brown, leatherbound book of poems found in the garage of the home my parents bought in 1949, led to poetry. I began writing serions, i.e. non-teenage angst, poetry on bar napkins in Germany. One night, in Europe, where poetry was more respected than in the U.S., a(http://U.Sa) (http://U.Sa)German woman, who spoke excellent English, saw me writing, and, glancing over my shoulder, said, "Ach! You're a poet!" It was said with respect, and she picked up my poem, read it, nodded, and returned it, saying, "Very good!" That was the first time I ever considered myself a poet. After that, from time to time in groups of German and Polixh people I spent time with, I was introduced with, "He's a poet...", and the poeple would smile and nod and occasionally ask what I had written or did I want to recite a poem. It was the first time I had been identified as ME, and individual person with a personal art. It's partly because of beer, Father Cunningham, and Father Brown that I eventually read my way from one end of the Pensacola Public Library to the other, began writing poetry and never looked back. Although I have had a few poems published in print media, it's because of the internet that I have been able to place so many poems before so many people. • Donovan Baldwin

Within these swirling mists of my mind, Mingled dreams of desire and hope, Passed a figure, a lady designed, Created by my romantic mind, Seasoned and shimmering, With past experience Future fantasy and Ideal imagination. Impossible she, Yet, appears, Becoming Reality, Now. • Donovan Baldwin