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Each less than the light of a match Swarms of small scattered stars, Illuminate infinite ideals and dreams, Tempting, tantalizing targets for quests Mysteriously motionless behind the moon, They, tiny twinkling things, Produce profound passions Fevered fantasies and fables. Donovan Baldwin

Shadows released from bondage, By the weakening sun, Crawling, leaping, inch by inch, Up walls, and across streets, Filling up the lit openings Between solid objects Making all into one dark block, A mystic place from which Anything marvelous, Mysterious or fearful Might arise, Only to disappear With the shadows At the sun's resurgence. Donovan Baldwin

tiny butterflies words he wrote inside her... seeking their release ----- dawn lifts night's blanket love and desire wake once more... her blossom opens ----- growing as he tastes her ripe succulent berries... gaia's rich harvest ----- sweet mists of dawn swirl about velvet petals... dewdrops on my tongue ----- fingertips passing shy pastel petals unfold... begging for kisses ----- warrior grown old alone after his battles... seeks heart to call home ----- she spills his poems like hot candle wax on skin... burning her inside ----- special treat for him petals dipped deep in honey... sweet upon his tongue ----- busy loving bee gathering from her petals... delicious honey ----- her questing fingers reaching out for ecstasy... hand full of pleasure ----- All my treasures So meaningless unless I share them With someone I love, So, I give you rainbows, And golden sunsets, Shy pink naked dawns, Sleepy birdsong, Audacious wildflowers, Roaring waterfalls, And tiny spillways, And all the words Pent up so long inside, Waiting for you to appear. ----- Donovan Baldwin

I dream of gods and goddesses, Heroes, and the feats they did, And lovers whose love Shook the entire world Setting nations aflame Nymphs, and nereids, and dryads, Satyrs, centaurs, Old besotted Bacchus, Wine dripping down his face, Pass before me in The fading light My feet stumbling upon the path Of the old blind poet, As I listen intently In my own darkness, Hoping to hear his whispers Echoing in my mind. Donovan Baldwin

Two small dark islands, Peaks of silver hills afloat Upon a moonlit sea, Which, with each breath, Rise and fall, faster with The coming of the Evening storm, the Wind of my mouth, Reverberation of hands, Beating out a tempo, Rising, heating, waters Of her still lagoon, Until it boils, and Seething with pent up Expulsions bursts Forth from trembling land Heaving in her quake, Til, settled again at last... The goddess sleeps Resting in the arms of Her god of many names, Whom she invoked, With imprecations and Obscene demands within, The wonderful power Of the gale which overtook her. Donovan Baldwin

princes are boring he promised her a poet... just what she wanted ----- waves of his words first tiny ripples in her heart... set streams in motion ----- naked to their touch walks in gardens of my words... poems upon skin ----- nakedly engaged battles fought in darkened bed... sweet carnal combat ----- vanished just like that never seen or heard again... so soon forgotten ----- gave each other gifts priceless unlike other things... two hearts full of smiles ----- when sighs became cries and ecstatic instructions... her dreams became real ----- soft petals unfold silver honey by moonlight.. taste of her lingers ----- ashamed of her thoughts until love showed her indeed... they were beautiful ----- hold on tight lover i lead an exciting life... warm sunsets hot words ----- i don't have too much these words from my heart to yours... my greatest treasure ----- Donovan Baldwin

She stands almost revealed Gust of wind the difference Tween modesty and nudity Waiting to hear my words See the widening of My eyes, hear my Intake of breath as In most natural way I with loving hands Fill in for absent breeze And we both know where This rising storm will lead. Donovan Baldwin

Sometimes as I read through comments on social media sites, I start to feel bad. So many other people are posting comments that offer deep and important thoughts on life, business, politics, religion, the economy... etc. Here I sit, chatting about climbing trees and swimming in the bay as a boy,, the beauty of sunrises and sunsets, and hinting at a lascivious side that some may wish I kept silent about. I could get a feeling of value if I was an "entertainer", someone who could make people laugh and forget their troubles... or a Will Rogers kind of guy who poked humorous holes in the conceits of the rich, famous, and powerful. Bothered me for a while. Then, I came to realize something. Perhaps there was a niche, a need, for someone who thought the simple things were important enough to talk about, think about. Someone who thought that thoughts did not always have to start at the highest levels and tackle the toughest problems... answering the most burning questions... or even the simple little day to day ones. Someone who thought a hug and a kiss and a pat on the... well, you know... were important parts of life. So, that's who I am... old guy who still enjoys climbing trees (in his mind), walking the shore by the bay, feeling the wind, listening to the birds, and wondering what's for dinner. I figure THAT'S important too... just being human... being A human. Plenty of people taking on the tough questions, and plenty of entertainers... BUT, there's only ONE of me! Donovan Baldwin

Her dress now serves another purpose, No longer needed for modesty. Lovers have left that behind, It becomes the cover For the grass bed where We consummate Natural desires which, Have brought us This moment when we, Are more naked and More real in love, Than we have ever Been. Donovan Baldwin