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Call me poet for I wander lost byways Of mortality and mind, Gathering cast off Images and impressions, Stowed away willy-nilly In the pack upon my back Where a genie resides Transmuting piles of Fleeting flowing realities, Binding them to print, Random words pretending To be poetry. • Donovan Baldwin

Forever in my memory, The hot white sands, So blinding bright, Under the deep blue sky, By the emerald waters, The Gulf of Mexico, Pathway to an infinity Of adventures, which, in time, Became memories stored beside The hot white sand, Deep blue sky, Emerald green water. Donovan Baldwin

Altina Schinasi was an American sculptor, filmmaker, entrepreneur, window dresser, designer, and inventor. She was best known for designing what she called the "Harlequin eyeglass frame", popularly known as cat-eye glasses. Google is celebrating Altina Schinasi's 116th Birthday with a Doodle[ that says "Happy birthday to the woman who was a visionary in more ways than one." Her son Terry Sanders helped with it and also shared a note on behalf of his family: "Happy Birthday, Tina! Thank you for your courage, kindness and inspiration. Much love, always." Have you a pair of cat-eye glasses?

Your sadness touches me, As does your laughter And your passion, When you allow it To be seen. Touch me with all The feelings you have, Even when you must Scream and cry, and, Beat upon my chest, At injustice or sorrow. Share your shame, for, With me, you will be absolved, For I have seen your humanity, And know your sins are all Committed in innocence. Donovan Baldwin

Many things in life are hard. Often the contemplation of them is the hardest part. Little trick I learned in the Army - No matter how long the march, the run, the days in the field, all I had to do was take that next step, make it through the next five minutes. If I looked at the miles and hours remaining, I was daunted, overwhelmed, but, damn right I could do one more minute, another few steps, make it to that tree. That was my task at hand. Not the miles, not the days, but the inches, feet, minutes... get to that dead tree, that's all I had to do, and then I could figure out where to go from there. Set another goal... a few feet, a few minutes, a few steps farther down the trail. Seventy-eight years old, still walking (running occasionally), and still sometimes feeling daunted by the whole trek... but, I CAN do a few more feet, another minute, maybe five minutes. THAT, I can do. No sweat, Sarge. I've got this. Waiting for some idiot to yell out, "More PT, sergeant!!!" Oh, wait! I became the sergeant. Donovan Baldwin

I'm retired so now I have the time, and thanks to my wife's intelligent handling of money, and my intelligence of listening to her, I also have the resources to create. While working, I pursued an avocation in freelance cartooning/illustration. I worked for Petersen Publishing on their "Car-Toons Magazine" title. I worked for Ed"Big Daddy"Roth on his t-shirt designs as well as his "Rat Fink Comix" line of comics. I founded the "Salon of Comic and Cartoon Art" at San Francisco State Uni. and have had my cartoons and comix published in anthologies, and titles around the world. I now paint in oils and watercolors, relief printing (lino, and woodcut). I Still cartoon, and am currently finishing up my graphic novel, "Klaus".

Why save foreplay, For just one special portion Of the dance? Why can't foreplay, Be the dance? Why does it have to end, Or always segue To something else. We both love it!!! Let's spend the night Together, In mutual foreplay, Until collapsing Into each other's arms, And heart. - Donovan Baldwin

First touch, Whenever, Wherever, It happens, My fingertips, Drifting, Oh, so gently, Along curve of cheek, Thrill of warm flesh touched, Real person, Touched... Not just with words, Chin cupped, Fingertip across your lips, Replaced as I, Kiss you, Lips meeting lips. First time. - Donovan Baldwin

It can be a lonely place This poet's mind, So full of beauty and gaiety, Yet, with only the door Held ajar with a few words, People passing by peek in, And only see stillness, A boring facade, Never imagining all That is passing by Behind those silent eyes. - Donovan Baldwin

I’m feeling good I want to play But he’s asleep Worked hard today! I let down my hair But you don’t see So I’m writing poetry Alone! Alone gives me time A quiet writing space A stranger appears A master, a writer. Connected in words Conjuring heat Kindred twisted egos Happy to meet! This feels good Posing for his pen …I look around I’m still alone!