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sense of humor part of you i long to touch over and over your intelligence part of you to be explored to its lovely depths your body of course part of you to make love once we laugh and talk • Donovan Baldwin

dark beside the fire glinting of brass and leather an old warrior scarred body and heart ready for battle or verse apt with sword or pen others tread lightly respect of reputation for weapon and words • Donovan Baldwin

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Where does love reside? That warm and tender grandeur, Which takes my soul to the Highest of the heights, Filling me with wonder, and, Making me, a mortal man immortal, For who can die when bound to Boundless ecstasies of wonderment? Where does love reside? When hidden from view, Of ordinary mortals, yet, Visible within all spectrums, To the wondering eyes of I, the lover, and, you, the loved, Seeking, and reaching for, One another, touching in all ways, You, the one most loved and, Sought after with all my soul. Where does love reside, If not within my heart? • Donovan Baldwin

If she sleeps, Then, I am at peace. If she is at peace, Then, I may sleep. My day depends on her, The movement of her life, The thought of her smile, The dream of her laughter. She has power, She needs not wield. I have power, Because I yield, To the power which, Has taken me, And given life, To my life. I will live at peace, While she sleeps. I will sleep in peace, With her dreams. • Donovan Baldwin

I walk and walk and walk, And you walk with me, Though so very far away. In the breeze passing, Through the trees, I hear your voice... Whispering sweet words, Carried down to grass, And reeds along the creek, Beside which my feet carry me, And, I hear the echo in Birdsong in the wood, Your smile in bright sunflower, Your grace in dancing willow, And in each tiny flower along the path... I find you're following me, Matching me pace for pace, Love for love... somewhere. • Donovan Baldwin

In the quiet of each night, I gaze upon The face of my beloved as she sleeps. In reality, she safely sleeps so far away While I, alone with thoughts that come before dreams Revel in the vision of her sleeping face, Using the only images I have To build the scene that plays before me. Her face wears a still and peaceful sweetness That I know is not always there In the "real" world. I grant her image serenity because I know, She does not always find it in her life. Despite what some might think, I view her sleeping form Covered chastely, because, I am not yet allowed To go so far...In life, or, in imagination, And I must respect that for her sake, and for mine. I watch the gentle rise and fall of each breath, And, yes, I wish, that I could lay beside her Resting her head on my chest, Holding her safely in my arms, As night passes. But, even in my imagination, despite My "hell-raising" past, I cannot bring myself to violate the trust She doesn't even know that I am burdened with. For the time that I can stay, I make love to her, Not in the way of flesh, but in the way of the heart, The mind, and the soul. Then, some well-meaning god tells me that I must go Before love becomes lust. And, so, I steal away In the quiet of each night, knowing I shall return tomorrow, and, That she will never know. • Donovan Baldwin

Love can do so many things, Or so I have been told. Love makes the heart beat faster, And a young man of the old. Love can whisk away the darkness, And fill each day with Sun, Love stops the storms of life, Replacing them with fun. Love can cross the ocean, Making inches out of miles, Yes, love can do all this and more, And I have learned love smiles. • Donovan Baldwin

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Above the ebon sea Lightning burned a silver web, Loudly roaring wind chased Thick black clouds Beneath a sometimes moon, As rain poured down Upon escaping lovers Daring the storm tossed sea Racing pursuit and the storm Fearing one more than the other. • Donovan Baldwin Idea from the following passage from Robert Louis Stevenson's essay, A Gossip On Romance (one of my favorites). "The man or the hour had not yet come; but some day, I think, a boat shall put off from the Queen's Ferry, fraught with a dear cargo, and some frosty night a horseman, on a tragic errand, rattle with his whip upon the green shutters of the inn at Burford."

Naked in the bay, Before the sun rose Swimming in the Morning's misty coolness, Bare boy glorying in The innocent touches Of air and water Unaware that someday, Such free and Loving caresses, Unconditional freedom, Would only be found In a lover's arms. • Donovan Baldwin

upon her soft leaves i ink my poetic runes... she my mystic book Donovan Baldwin (Thanks to John Donne, 'To His Mistress Going To Bed' for the idea.)