Search Results

Beautiful, sexy, hot? Not one person. Not one way. Not one body. Many different minds, Thoughts, Caring, loving, Laughing, Understanding. It's not how you're "built", It's how you live, love, Think, speak. Feel... How the other feels When together, Around you, Thinking of you. • Donovan Baldwin

Mighty little atom, So central to everything, All being, Things in existence, Beautiful and ugly, Useful and useless... Ourselves. Yet, so seldom sung, Or praised, For what is an atom That one cannot hold Or see,.. Specious argument, For can we see or hold Love, Respect, Honor, Duty, Beauty? And yet we sing of these! So, let us admire and Write poetry about Atoms, Molecules, And more. • Donovan Baldwin

A naked flower Blushes not at Its being bare, For that is a Sharing of its Beauty, The purpose It was created for. It blushes at The happy joy And ardent love Upon the face Of the gardener, Who loves it So intently. • Donovan Baldwin

moonlight drifts like mist revealing lovers entwined... within silver robes • Donovan Baldwin

brittle candlelight while crystalline violins... play old memories • Donovan Baldwin

The warrior's burning eyes swept o'er The host of the enemy. Testing his weapon's weight in his hand, With no thought that he might flee. Weary beyond what flesh should bear, Bloody with wounds of war. Determined to stay and meet the fate The gods had named him for. His flaming gaze swept left and right Heart leapt at the sight displayed, Comrades in gory unbroken line, The best of his friends on parade. Still to this day they recite the tale Of those who held that battle line, Stood fast till the enemy fled, Ground stained with battle's red wine. They chant the names of fallen ones, And those who survived that day, Offer homage to the warrior breed, Who gave a gift no one can repay. • Donovan Baldwin

Up on the hill stands the old broken fortress of Heidelberg. In her dust-powdered wig from yesterday, Still standing watch over her city, Though bare, broken bricks show through, and Sagging breastworks prove her youth's long past. Far down, flows the cold, blue-gray water Of the Neckar, With the old, arched bridge, Perhaps seen in postcards, Showing it in sunlight, But, In my mind it is last seen On a rainy April day. As I turned to view the bridge, Behind me, The vine-entangled castle brooded, About all the sad history she's endured. She's been burned, you know, and Damn near destroyed so many times. Even so, she still watches over the city. They say there's a curse on The old Heidelberg castle, But, he who laid the curse is long since dead... Still, the old lady stands there, Rain, sun, snow... Watching over her city. • Donovan Baldwin

loving gardener helping tiny bud open... waking shy flower • Donovan Baldwin

there is a woman that others cannot understand... one she keeps hidden • Donovan Baldwin

truly sensual appears socially proper... her little secret • Donovan Baldwin

I'm lying in the mud, water mixing with my blood, Perhaps I'm riding in a track or in a Jeep. I'm cozy, safe and warm, far removed from any harm, Except when I am too afraid to sleep. I begin before it's light, and continue into night, Whether slick-sleeve or with stars upon my shoulder. I'm a boozer and a fighter, or a lover and a writer, Puttin' in my time and slowly growing older. Hair that's not been cut away, once brown but getting gray, My pocket's empty almost all the time. My uniforms have creases that can cut a man to pieces, I use words no dictionary dares define. I eat C-rats stead of caviar, and often drive my buddy's car, Because my wreck won't pass this year's inspection. I can cross the desert sand, or any piece of land, With just here and there some minor misdirection. I'm paid nowhere near enough, to put up with all this stuff, And the CO says I don't get paid for thinking. Top's pushed me to the end, and then on around the bend, Too proud to cry, I settle down to drinking. I can't afford a spouse, but I have one...and a house, Who would think that such a gal could love a soldier? I can't tell her, or you, why I live the way I do, With the pages of my life filed in a folder. I gripe, but call me I'll come running, or marching to the drumming, If you need my life, I guess that's what I'll give. Like other soldiers gone to war, who paid the price before, The price placed on the life we live. I can't say that I'll be brave, when the flags begin to wave, Tattered, ripped, and torn by deadly fire. I can only say that I, hope to give it my best try, If I claimed any more I'd be a liar. I'm a soldier dressed in green, often looked at, seldom seen, Please spare a moment now to see me well. For there might come a day, when I'll be called away, To spend a tour in someplace close to Hell. And, I might just not come back, when I carry off my pack, To an unknown place somewhere around the earth. So, stop and give a smile, that I can take with me a while, Cause money cannot measure what I'm worth. • Donovan Baldwin 29 March 1982

His poems held to her breast, Touching words he wrote for her, Which leave her breathless. Taken bare and unaware she gasps! Where came this sudden rush of heat, Her body's hot desires? Touched by words and pages, Released by strokes of absent hands, She finds her new freedom. • Donovan Baldwin