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you said you'd turn me on if i told you my desires i whispered your name ----- a dying poet cares less for the end of days than the end of words ----- he's tried so often to write words that tell the world how much he's loved her ----- the beauty's in you you're the one who cannot see what i try to reveal ----- poet writes outside the lines defies tradition ----- with sweet ink she writes poetry upon petals meant to be tasted ----- i long to hold you have you stay within my arms forever and more ----- she is too open for the others to accept so she turns to me ----- at others' beck and call I've never belonged to me wanted for who i am ----- made aware so often i accept my worthlessness in the eyes of the world ----- once wrote poetry it began to sadden me so the urge left me ----- the last thing i love has now become a burden i can no longer bear ----- wait beside the tracks for the train that never comes the one bearing love ---- no one can give me what the fates have so decreed will never be mine ----- a whole life I've spent wishing for someone to care but it's too late now • Donovan Baldwin

Waves buzz by, I pick them up Tuning in the universal ebb and flow Blanket of eternal signals Receptors open to receive Be these dreams  Or thoughts of other beings Released unto the cosmic bands For sharing across the great expanse I feel you too, your red hot need Searing my skin, my brain and my soul I let these wash by No way to take them in Keep sending out your magnetic waves into the universe we share Know I touch and taste each one Restrained but alive to your calls Feel me for you know me well Words sent out upon the wind Across the miles my kisses fly to land upon your skin I’m a ghostly figment that you’ve seen How beautiful it would be to hold and touch and share Run wild and free upon the breeze

I've been cruising social media. Just curious, and, as always, hoping to pick up an idea for one of my little comments, or, if I'm REALLY lucky, trigger the "poet button" hidden in my brain that I cannot find, and do not know how to activate on purpose. In the process, I DID come across a range of comments, seemingly unrelated, but, which brought MY thoughts to a common point. There are people whose purpose, their dream, their driving force is to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, protect the defenseless. Beautiful! Wouldn't want them to change for anything. There's people whose purpose, their dream, their driving force is to make something beautiful, artistic, aesthetically pleasing, not necessarily "useful" or utilitarian, but, something we humans need or desire... not all at the same time for the same thing, but, in much the same way. Ditto on the previous response. There's people whose purpose, their dream, their driving force is to make something... money, fame, invention, items and services utilitarian, or simply wanted by the masses, or by people who really need "it"... whatever it is. Same, ditto... carry on. Each of these often looks askance at the others, not understanding THEIR "why", and not understanding that it's the SAME "why"... just pointed in another direction. We're human because we want to do... not just to be... but to do... something. We're human because we CAN be different and still be human. • Donovan Baldwin

You impress me... The way your words Carry the tactile message Of body to body, Tongue to tongue, The taste of the inner you, Drippings of desire, Gathered in licking kisses, Shared without shame In the form of poetry, For the moment, A liquid feast for lovers, Bound to taste the most Intimate messages Beyond words. ----- eternal question what is it like to be loved don't know the answer ------ i've never seen you yet how beautiful you are your words bear witness ----- encaged with poet lashed by her own desires the freedom she seeks ----- aria amour beautiful ecstatic song bursting from within ----- withholding pleasure until she can wait no more achieving climax ----- never enough words so it must be done this way with ardent kisses ----- a night of whispers stories told by stroking hands and ecstatic sighs ----- beautiful her song the way she pulls each note forth as her fingers strum ----- no one to save me on the slippery road through hell that others call lif ------ smiling her soul ablaze for her poetic arsonist who loves to watch her flames ----- wanted her to be her not put on a show for me sexier that way ----- wonder who i am for i belong to no one and none will claim me ----- dancing in the rain she's filled with liquid music raindrops notes on skin ------ she's sexy when wild so unladylike and free as eve might have been ----- in the lonesome night i await your messages though my hopes grow dim ----- who used whom i ask which was humiliated left trembling alone ----- a poet's subject once marked she moved on ever immortal ----- this picture's gentle the next wildly erotic you will be in both ----- words those moving things that found their way inside her touching her pleasures ----- poetry brings her to a sort of ecstasy at the tips of words ----- yet though i will dream dream is all it will remain in which you visit • Donovan Baldwin

though i seem distant you are in my mind and heart at busy moments ----- could she be the one lady seems to like his words so becomes his muse could he be the one poet suddenly writing lost within his words might these two be one lady whom the poet loves and makes immortal ----- warm feelings rising she's afraid to let them show what he's known a while ----- embracing lovers one molten silver figure made out of moonlight ----- no shame in my words or the way i write of you respect and desire ----- unconventional the way poets express love unconditional ----- black night sky explodes fireworks which cannot be seen but felt by poets ----- she loves poetry how the words caress inside as much as i do • Donovan Baldwin

they were tender words melting sweetly in my mouth your lips shared with mine ----- marks upon my soul left by fingernails on skin and a lover's words ----- touched by his kisses tender petals weep for joy dew drops down the stems ----- bring your love to him show him how you feel inside shouldn't have to guess ----- i know all your sins they're the reasons i love you let's sin together ----- we add skeins of words weave a fabric which can't hide our naked desires ----- how thin this lace is loose woven words exposing love we cannot hide ----- in lovers' embrace dancers move slow face to face in moon's silver grace ----- i know she's out there better poet than i am i have seen her words ----- poets write of love that lies beneath the lace only we can see ----- she defied the rules in her desire to be free a poet helped her ----- she's the poetry poet merely writes her down using his best words ----- she was his helen he'd go to troy to reclaim despite gods and men ----- watch for your return from where the moon has you hid sunrise in my eyes ----- like some fabled queen tender lips cite poetry neath a foreign moon ----- somewhere she's sleeping and perhaps she dreams of me as i do of her ----- ardent lost lover kneeling at her secret gate begging to enter ----- wolves around his fire the poet drives them away howling ancient words ----- he accepts her needs way that she accepts his wants on their pleasure quest ----- blunt pagan passion instrument of ecstasy for mutual use ----- you offer yourself each piece of body and mind to my loving use ----- she feels she does right feeding body's needs and wants carnal appetites • Donovan Baldwin

He writes just one more poem. Alone with himself and his words He composes a love song, a sonnet, An unstructured piece of Poetic prose, hoping that These words, this poem-like Gust of words will touch her, Sway her, arouse her to Notice him, to understand, The love he can only share Through the message held In the mad words clamoring To leave his mind and touch her. • Donovan Baldwin

The sound of the surf as background music, The sea breeze whispering old love poems in my ear, The sunlight playing on your face, smiling At my request... You crack the crab, take the meat, Dip it in the butter and raise it to my lips, I kiss your slippery, seasoned fingertips. • Donovan Baldwin

Fleeing through the European darkness, Leaving behind laughter and pain, Bringing joy or sadness, Onward rolls the Rome Express Pounding over the invisible German countryside, Where, in other times, the young men died. Faces tell stories, some of which are lies, A smile may cover sadness, A gloomy visage may hide a happy heart. Strangers, strangely intent on remaining strangers, Eyes avoiding eyes, souls avoiding souls, In dark windows of the cars, Outward looking eyes, Mingle with the stars. American soldier, German hausfrau, Turkish laborer, In the compartment, rich and poor mingled, Poured into this tiny, mobile room. Across the compartment sits a Sikh, With his uncut hair and beard. An old woman takes black bread and apple From her bag to make a meal. The train passes sleepy German villages In the night, Where, not too long ago A war was fought, Now, peacefully fading Into the night, And memory. • Donovan Baldwin Based on a ride I took, Germany, 1968

I, with my cheap red wine, Toast the moon, the stars, The darkness of the night, Which turns the world into A place fit for drinking poets, For, the sun, the king of daylight, Does not activate the bardic soul As does the silver lady and her cohort, In their black velvet dress, Scattering silver over everything. • Donovan Baldwin

How can this staid old poet, Scottish Pict and not Romany, Manifest so much gypsy blood, Wine red blood which boils in moonlight, Roiled by the sound of mad guitars, Or sad sad violins, Stirred by old stories, Tantalized by tales, Of times which might have been, Maybe never were, But, damn well should have? • Donovan Baldwin