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I've been on this site for a few weeks now, but just discovered how to post. I had no idea this was here... I would really like to make some new friends and connections on here. Thanks for your time and attention.

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.)

If your heart could see beyond my words, If they were to mean more to you than Mere strokes and curves on paper, And, became strokes, and curves On your skin, would your heart Beat ever faster, your breast Rise and fall with hope and Desire, the need to once Be truly loved, be held By more than words, Within loving arms Of one who now Holds love's Pen? • Donovan Baldwin

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

One night the moon shone down on me, As I sat upon the sand at water's edge. She asked, for the Moon is a lady, "Why do you sit here all alone?" I replied, "I love someone very far away." "Then tell her," the Moon said, gently. I shook my head, as a cloud crossed The sky, and the face, of the caring moon. "I cannot," said I, head bowed. "Duty binds me here too far away." A chill wind crossed the water, And, I shivered, with cold and loss. Warm Moon spoke, "My light will speak for you. i will shine down outside her home each night, With poems and messages of love you send, So, she, seeing me, will think of you." I asked, "How will she ever know, that, Your silver beams are messages of love, Sent by a humble poet?" I asked in doubtr. Moon smiled brightly at my lack of faith. "She will know," sweet Moon replied, "She already knows my beams are love. until now she did not know from whom." One night the Moon, said this to me. • Donovan Baldwin

At first bite it tastes so sweet Tangy tingles on the tongue Hunkering for more delights Tidbits become cravying Bloated on sugar, sickened On torrents of syrupy prose Overwhelming - it’s too much Beloved turn of phrase Is stuck on the bottom of the bowl

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

I have risen from Ashes of my defeat Time and time again, Defying the Fates, And all the evil gods Could muster Against me, For I am me, And I must strive, No matter if I should win or lose, I will rise from The ashes each time For that is MY battle, To rise... Again • Donovan Baldwin

In life are many walls, Hemming us in, containing, Restraining us, Keeping us captive. The worst walls are the ones By those who should be Helping us to find our wings. Next worse walls are those We build around ourselves. Maybe we should try Climbing over those walls. • Donovan Baldwin

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