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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."

flavored french kisses she's coffee and poetry passionately mixed ----- she might not be shy but her heart's been mishandled she wants to be sure ----- pens his shining words upon her pastel pages the ink bright and wet ----- two share moons and words bodies washed with silver light draped with poetry ----- she surface serene responds to his poetry with stirrings unseen ----- hints of her desires woven among night's whispers as they left her lips ----- i'll not entrap you nor set out my words as snares just take them with you • Donovan Baldwin

Saw some pithy/witty sayings this morning while I was still waking up (still am, for that matter). Some struck me as funny, some as dumb, some just didn't make it to the second layer of brain cells. One, however, struck a chord. "If a street musician makes you stop walking and listen, you owe him/her a buck." That just seemed "right" to me. But, I don't see that many buskers (street performers). Continuing my musings, I began to see, for me, that when someone who doesn't have to tell me, and I don't have to listen, provides something of value that I realize, recognize, as such, maybe there SHOULD be a transaction of some kind. A reward, whether of cash, goods, words...something... to be given in return. Maybe a pat on the back, maybe a recommendation to someone else, maybe a sharing of the message. I don't know exactly what YOU "should" do because THEY brought you value...but, you owe them something for what they gave you, even if it's just the intention to be a better person, live a better life, sing a happier song, or, maybe, just smile at others, instead of sending out messages of gloom and doom. There are people trying to do good for you. Reward them at least by trying to do good for others. Nothing big. Just a smile, a memory, a buck. • Donovan Baldwin

between soft pages i write my best poetry with gentle fingers she takes in my words a fluid recitation barely whispering pulls me to her breast so that i write more deeply cries out her response • Donovan Baldwin

snared by my desires fingers tangled in her web words caught on her skin ----- using secret words i fade into fantasy only poets know ----- upon silken pages i write honeyed poetry penned on her petals ----- cute halo and horns part devil part angel purring about sin ----- death of a poet swords and butterflies lie still ending of all words • Donovan Baldwin

an ancient rhythm stirs her music from some distant past she sways with old desires body boldly telling tales of forgotten lust and love ----- though poems were penned the best words were left unsaid no ink could hold them ----- love can be so much lust and want desire and need happy ever after • Donovan Baldwin

private masquerade intimate soirée for two all we wore were masks ----- like a frightened deer at the edges of my words shyly waits for more ----- how innocent you seem and yet the passion flows deep within your body and your erotic soul erupting in beautiful most delightful thrusts of body and mind as you follow and feed the desires of yourself and the master to whom you have bonded yourself ----- i was once in hell a few demons still hang on in constant battle ----- dear seductive muse who makes me write poetry vices in verses ----- stands in the window her morning robe of sunlight transparent design • Donovan Baldwin

How red the petals of your lips, Yet, stripped of their color, In their hue of pastel pink, How desirable that smiling bud, That beckons me to kiss it, To run my fingers across the petals, To entice the darting tongue To return my touch surrounded By a smile which shows in her Mouth and eyes and begs me to Change my lips for my finger, To greet your tongue with my own. • Donovan Baldwin