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Like a boy playing tag upon Two flowered hills with blooms Budding at dawn's warm kiss, Wandering bare and bold at will Among soft quivering reeds Moved by a passing breath And the brush of my fingers Listening to sweet sounds She makes first as whispers Sighing and singing as, Leading me to safety, I trespass upon her Forbidden lands. • Donovan Baldwin

We hear a lot about allowing people to be themselves, not hating them for what they are, or trying to change them (unless, of course, they're an ax murderer... but most aren't). Sounds fair. We've all been raised so differently, many coming from okay cultures who simply have different, perhaps difficult for us to understand, ways of living and looking at life. With a few exceptions here and there (note ax murderer above), most of us manage to make this work. One of the exceptions is what bothers me. How come you (and I) can do all that for the good of everybody else (to the best of our abilities), and NOT do it for ourselves? Shouldn't we forgive ourselves our sins... if sins they truly are? After all, many "sins" are not really sins at all, just someone's idea of "improper behavior"... whatever THAT is. Shouldn't we accept ourselves the way we are? Oh, we all could be "better" somehow... healthier, wiser, more forgiving, more understanding, etc. There's an old saying (in different forms), "You can't dip water from an empty well." Fill yourself up first with kindness, understanding, forgiveness, even acceptance. After all, there's a lot of people out there who haven't gotten the message yet, and you've got a lot of (rewarding) work to do. • Donovan Baldwin

I sit among decorations of light and dark, dancing 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. • Donovan Baldwin

Soft whispers across the chasm Lightly blowing back my hair Brushing against my face Like a soft kiss Growing more forceful Strong enough to lift my scarf And blow it off my neck Leaving me chilled Rustling my skirt with urgency Calling to me on the wind Step off the trusted trail Onto a path to new love

The rain beats rhythms on your skin A symphony of secret sin. I trace them as they strike and flow Lips and tongue behind the go. Breathless, I chase the silver sting, A thirst for wildness, on the wing. Your skin, a canvas, etched with rain, My lips, medicine for your pain. Breathless, I pursue each drop Hoping storms will never stop. Your body only clothed by rain So tempting to my fevered brain. You my feast neath weeping sky, Dance seductively as I Touch and taste and drink my fill Fingers drifting where they will. So let the rain caress your skin, Awash with past and future sin, A promise in those beating drops, Arousing love that never stops. • Donovan Baldwin

Begins with broken words, Scattered pieces of her heart, Joining shard to shard, Begins to hum a half-forgotten tune, Swaying, almost dancing as she works, Hears another voice join in, Stranger hands her A piece that fits, She accepts with A smile, And soon, Her heart is completed again And can hold the words Which will become poetry, And they both smile. • Donovan Baldwin

seeing you watching i extend invitations disguised as poems • Donovan Baldwin

Condemned to live, condemned to die, Ignored by passing passersby, Themselves, condemned as you and I, To live each day, and each day try, To live one more, and not to die. That's the law here, that's the way, To skip our lives from day to day, Pretending play is only play, Not life we've lost and thrown away, Left behind along our way. I've no lessons, laws, or rules, To save us all from being fools. So far I've not found any schools, Which teach us methods, give us tools, To stay alive as life's fire cools. Love's the only thing I've found, To aid us on this mad go-round, Providing guidance soft, yet sound, To wrap our lives in, keep it bound, Yet, something most have never found. • Donovan Baldwin

Note: The first poem I ever published. He was buried there by the mud bayou, At the bend where the green water curls, With the swing of a spade, A half-whispered prayer, And the tears of a heartbroken girl. The living splashed on through the water and mud Past the ghosts of the moss covered trees. With looks right and left, And hearts filled with fright, They waded past old cypress knees. They feared the cottonmouth, panther, and bear, They'd heard tales of the Indian tribes, But one of their number Cared nothing for peril, Now widow, but short time a bride. They left no trace of the way they came, Nor marks of the way they went, No record behind Of the youth in the ground, Or the reason his life had been spent. Somewhere in bayous where the green water bends Lies a man left behind long ago. Who he was, why he died, Who prayed, and who wept, Are the secrets of the mud bayou. Copyright Donovan Baldwin Published April 1982 in The Archer, now defunct. (Not my fault, I hope.)

Man uses wood without seeing The spark inside the living being The flowing sap and tender core Cleansing air, water and more    Below the soil, symbiotic truth mycorrhizal web joined at root mutualistic defenses to defend Attacks from pests and pathogens Arboreal beings who share the earth Forgive us humans, huddled at hearth Warmed and lighted in the dark Grateful for your endless bark  If we could only see your face And share in your collective space That binds all trees; holds them tight To withstand, withhold and stand upright I gaze in awe below your dome In woods that circle my own home I pray you feel me standing here  With everlasting love… for trees Susan Smoter - Octiber 7, 2023

It's not the color of your lips, It's what they have to say, If your eyes be blue, green, or brown I'd love you anyway. The color of your skin, Also matters not to me, Nor the type of clothes you wear, Tight bound or fancy free. You can have the biggest bust, Or one that's rather small, I'm not just going to love that part, I hope to love you all. Your bottom can be curvy, Or perhaps a trifle flat, That's fine because, you see my love, That's not what I'm looking at. Fashion says how you should look, If a fool, you heed and listen, But, when I hold you in my arms, It won't be "fashion" that I'm kissin'. I want a woman in my arms, Who just wants to be right there. When it comes to height or weight, I can't say I really care. Age is not a factor, Nor if you have much wealth. Although I must admit, that I have a thing for health. If you can hug me tightly, After I've acted like an ass, Then open up your arms for me, And become my charming lass. • Donovan Baldwin

Where leads this beckoning road, This silent, time-worn street? Does it lead to secret places, where Angels and demons meet? Or, does it fade with forward steps, And slowly cease to be? Perhaps it reaches unknown lands, Which I am doomed to never see. Yet I cannot long each road ignore, Nor allow my steps to turn, From each strange path to somewhere, And something I must learn. • Donovan Baldwin