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In the old American TV western, Maverick, gambler Bret Maverick (James Garner) often handed out some homespun aphorism preceded by, "As my old pappy used to say..." When my old-school ways are mentioned, I often say, "My daddy would come up out of his grave if I didn't...", hold the door for a lady, apologize for an improper word (Excuse my French... with apologies now to the French!), or some other anachronistic behavior. So, what's the point at the end of this wavering pen... or keyboard? Well, a lot of what I, and Bret Maverick, often attribute to our respective fathers, actually came to us through the culture we were raised in, and the words and actions of many other people. I can remember such "lessons" which pop up in daily life. Such as the time my drill sergeant in Basic Combat Training, politely, ramrod stiff at attention and "with all due respect", took the side of a bunch of cold, shivering soldiers, and told a young "shave tail" second lieutenant, that he was wrong. "With all due respect sir, we need to take care of the men first and the gawdam weapons (he was from Tennessee) second." Or the boss that quietly taught good behavior and proper leadership without a word, or the "dear little Irish priest" who started my life long love of reading by telling stories to a "religion" class... Father Brown mysteries (Gilbert Keith Chesterton), and Irish folktales... the banshee, the black coach, leprechauns, of course. Or the stranger who suddenly showed up and did the right thing... which I witnessed... and learned from. You never know who's watching... and what they're learning. I cheerfully said "good morning" to a frowning teenage boy with ear buds in this morning. Maybe he'll remember... if he heard me. Donovan Baldwin

meet me on the bridge where only dreams may walk... before it fades at dawn ----- moonlight on bare skin both tangible and tactile... touches light and dark ----- fingers in your hair guiding kisses from behind... touch of eager lips ----- like the sun and moon share the sky but never meet... sunrise to sunrise ----- i can sense a storm though i saw how calm you were... i felt winds rising ------ open hand offers a bouquet of one blossom... from her small garden ----- subject for poem black facts silver fantasies... a moonlit nude ----- the gods' ambrosia equal parts of love and lust... a splendid mixture ----- at love's cotillion let's not be the wallflowers... may i have this dance ----- often felt alone looking into the darkness... till his hand took hers ----- she felt so alone looking into the future... then she saw him there ----- gentle poet she feared to write the burning words... read his felt his heat ----- thoughts of him began with bursts of sunshine and rum... and burning kisses ----- though he took nothing she gave him all he desired... got what she wanted ----- she was different volatile or calm or wild... always in his arms ----- Donovan Baldwin

our pages touching loving livre de chevet each word a caress (livre de chevet = bedside book) ----- i'll find love today in the place i always do within your embrace ----- show me your words babe naked thoughts upon the stage stripped down and open ----- let's write together a love story to be banned too hot to handle ----- Draw lovers naked For if clothed, They must still show All that they are To the other, Expect to see Everything When they gaze upon Their loved one. No secrets or veils No shame or Embarrassment Between true lovers. Show them naked, For naked they Should always be. ----- I gaze across the Texas prairie, Stretching westward to infinity, Or at least New Mexico, Under the rolling gray clouds. I've traveled beneath those clouds, Or at least, their brethren, In so many parts of the world, The soft, billowing gray clouds, Which should be sad, Or at least, you'd think they were, For I could travel forever Gladly within their Stormy promise of adventure. ----- dying candle light the rising of morning sun smiles of remembrance ----- Black deserted streets, Shining wetly in moonlight, Bright white snow on rooftops And treetops, Golden glow of windows Upon the silent pathway, The sounds of laughter, Zither music and song Spilling out like a Motion picture postcard, As a lonely soldier, Thousands of miles from home, Saved the memory for later. ----- my words are flowers i'll cover you with petals tenderly fragrant ----- michelangelo i stand in admiration in reverent awe ----- Leaves which died In Autumn, So bravely and So beautifully Brilliant in Their livery of Golds and reds, Now lie, Dead soldiers, Drab brown and gray, Like photographs From older wars, In the cold pools, Of nature's tears, To be recalled only In verse and photo, Reminders of Forgotten adventures. ----- • Donovan Baldwin

My favorite philosophers and poets Are often faceless unknowns, Passed over by experts Who should know better. MY favorites lurk within The clearance bins Of musty bookstores, Their words heard by few, And grateful for the light I shine on them, as I, Am grateful for their light. • Donovan Baldwin

I woke from sleep upon a bed of daffodils. Head resting on the bosom Of mother Earth's soft hills, Tipped with roseate stone. Rising, I mused along soft sloping plains, Until I reachad a pleasant grotto, Neath the shadow of soft reeds. I dipped my face within The warm soothing font, And lapped at the sweet Flowing waters. I boldly dove into the warm depths Of that nurturing site, Adding my essence to The welcoming grotto. I took happy exercise within, Plunging again and again, Into the flowing fluid of This delightful place. until... I, sated with the pleasure, Of my activities, Returned and lay back down Upon my bed of daffodils, Head resting on The bosom of my world. • Donovan Baldwin

deep inside of her his words reververated... in a sensual way ----- lovers embrace in a garden of words and kisses... petals spread around ----- once i tasted love sweet nectar of her desire... spilling from her lips ----- her desire a glow skin a hot invitation... to glisten with her ----- words drip one by one burning trails upon her mind... like candlewax on skin ----- In a carnal tempest blown about A windmill of desires spinning, Carrying her away upon the storm, Shredding away all but the Most internal part of her Which craved the wind's Wild caresses, Its soothing Breeze. ----- driven forth by love from secret source behind lips... sweet warm honey flows ----- thought at first mere lust but soon she came to realize... that was how he loved ----- loved in poetry words penetrate more deeply... touching her within ----- suddenly displayed as poet's words uncovered... all her naked thoughts ----- despite portrayal intimately in his words... naked unafraid ----- alone in darkness burning with unnoticed flames... but the poet saw ----- words transport us to sites where minds and bodies meet... rapt in ecstasy ----- i had dreamed of you long before you became real... knew you when we met ----- let me touch inside as my poems find their way... within your secrets ----- drawn in poetry finds herself among my words... beautifully exposed ----- does she dare respond to acknowledge the poem... makes secrets public ----- some won't understand the intensity of her desires... their connection to love ----- how mystic is love miracle of its magic... touching everything ----- arch begun with sighs pulled skyward by moans and motions... trembling completion ----- self freely given beneath my hand she trembles... with expectation ----- arms starve for your embrace mouth thirsting for your kisses... body weak without yours ----- thin roseate veil covers rising breasts of dawn... tips burn with sunlight ----- gleaming silver skin shadows hiding her secrets... nude moonlit statue ----- the tips of my fingers turn your soul face and body... into poetry ----- she parades for him wearing what the poet writes... on her burning skin ----- an endless pleasure painting you a thousand ways... with infinite words ----- eyelids flickering lips curved to a sleepy kiss... warm snuggle at dawn ----- even when she sleeps it is still my turn to dream... us outside of dreams ----- • Donovan Baldwin

I see you, Smiling at me, Set against some rolling sea, Framed by sky and clouds, The wind ruffling your hair, Hands held in mine, Bare feet in the sand Bathed by the waves, As we pull each other Together into That most intimate embrace, And sweetest, Most open kisses, As natural as The sea and wind And waves over our feet. • Donovan Baldwin

Observed A bird in flight, Before the dawn Among the dark trees, A shadow weaving Within still shadows Quick whir of wing Silent swift assent Assured and aware In the darkness Of its accuracy And ability. Oh to be as certain Of my path In this darkness. • Donovan Baldwin

A naked flower Blushes not at Its being bare, For that is a Sharing of its Beauty, The purpose It was created for. It blushes at The happy joy And ardent love Upon the face Of the gardener, Who loves it So intently. • Donovan Baldwin

the fires inside her were burning before i came... i merely fed them ----- overpowering the riptides of her passions... strong tidal desires ----- some night by moonlight we'll meet in some sweet between... and sail among stars ----- tips her goblet's rim honey trickles down petals... to his eager tongue ----- her hands take his dreams fashion a reality... he can see and feel ----- she is my rainbow all the flowers of the fields... sunrise and sunset ----- TRIPLET innocent lady hiding silent fires inside... fearing their beauty temptation she feels when she allows the flames to rise... delighted by their heat and yet to the world a calm and peaceful woman... poet knows the truth ------ she's more than words poetry set on a screen... she lives breathes loves ----- How can I capture The image I can see So clearly... The satin of her cheek, the drapery of her hair, The warm glow of her eyes, The curving invitation of her lips... The rise and fall Of her breast as She opens the images I draw of her, Trying to clearly state, My desires and wants, Not mine alone, but, Those which fill us both, With united flames. ----- he watches her words seeking those which say the most... keep his love alive ----- who are these words for she's whispering to the wind... to one who can hear ----- often he wonders if perhaps she hears his words... only echoes answer ----- dances her wildness scattering inhibitions... touching her nature ----- we bathe in the storm drawing upon our shared powers... directing raindrops ----- sipping love's waters tongue laps wondrous elixirs... from her goblet's rim ----- not velvet or steel joyful restraints that bind her... but the love they share ----- • Donovan Baldwin

Sunset from Pacific Grove, California, Photograph by Donovan Baldwin

I have seen her ghost, Gleaming like the moon Within the morning mist, Crooning her love song, A hunting song, A sad and mournful song, Sung for her lost love Orion dead at Gaia's hand, Or perhaps her own, For none remembers now, But the ghost of Artemis Who but mourns, And tells no tale. • Donovan Baldwin