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i smile to see her this sudden nymph in moonlight dashing to my arms • Donovan Baldwin Art: Nymph, Julius Schmid 1854?

uncovering them trusted her secrets to his hands... knowing they were safe • Donovan Baldwin

If she could see my dreams, I wonder what she would feel... What she would say To me. In darkness of the early morning I laid awake in bed Thinking of her, Wishing I could say, So many things. I drifted back to sleep, And, in a dream, She came to me, Walking down a long hall, In a flowing robe, To where I sat on a sofa. She sat beside me, On the arm of the sofa Leaning over me, So close I could have kissed her. I wish I had. In my dream we talked. I used all the words I want to use, and, I like to believe, She might want to hear. Words that cannot be spoken When awake. Then I awoke, The image of her face, Still in my mind, If not my eyes. The pleasure of her visit lingered, Her nearness still a part, Of the air around me, A bit of dream slowly melting away, To be replaced by the emptiness Of a reality where My words could only Be spoken, In a dream, Which she could not see. • Donovan Baldwin

the touch of your mind changed the colors of my dreams... dull and drab to bright • Donovan Baldwin

beat up old poet with his invisible scars... sees only beauty • Donovan Baldwin

youth's unfinished form no longer appeals to me... age her for me first • Donovan Baldwin

True Story... Doctor's office Baby crying... Crying, crying... Red faced, bawling... Desperate young mother In the waiting room Bares her breast Offers it to the baby. Baby quiet. Suddenly at peace. Nothing "sexy" here. No "arousal". No lustful thoughts. Just peace. Normal. Natural. Old couple there, The wife smiles, Husband looks quietly amused, Nothing new to old folks, I'm one. Old couple, Me, Mom, Baby, All happy, Naturally. • Donovan Baldwin

such wanton display seductive sway of her words... dancing without veils • Donovan Baldwin

The pain tells me I'm alive, Sometimes a reminder of Other times when I did Foolish things I prefer Not to forget or regret. The pain is an old friend, Sometimes bringing visitors To new parts of this land That life has explored And left its mark upon. • Donovan Baldwin

seems a hard woman but sudden blush betrays her... soft giggle follows • Donovan Baldwin

she wears a coat of words unraveled by his poems... all the threads falling • Donovan Baldwin

Wordsmith yes, but, Poet without Finesse or filigree. Blacksmith rather than Silversmith, Burning them in Blistering heat, I beat my heavy words Into submission, Hammering them Into useful shapes Quenching them with Cheap red wine, Savoring their shapes, Against flaming sunsets. • Donovan Baldwin