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When we go out to play Our purely natural Sunshine games can Be continued back inside Be played in the dark, Not for shame but, Sometimes, oh yes, Trust me on this, It's just more fun to Play slap and tickle Under the sheets, In the dark, Touching and Tasting our way, Along the paths Of carnal desire, Innocent fun With no goal in sight Except the pleasure Of loving pleasure itself, And, if, if, The ultimate pleasure Puts in an appearance, Then the more merrier are we, And gladly tired too, you bet. • Dononvan Baldwin

Poetic license... For the sake of the poem, I may encourage hedonism, Discourage resistance to urges, Picture love and lust as One and the same, For there IS little purity, Among the desires of We animals known as human. Like a painter painting nudes, I show condition, but, Not always explanation, Or expiation. • Donovan Baldwin

As I slowly sip my wine You enter the room. Our eyes meeting, Immediately we Understand What will Happen Next. I rise Walking Ignoring all Bent only upon Reaching you for It is ordained that we Must consummate our lust. • Donovan Baldwin

she stands proud in the sun warm rays brisk wind touching her... beneath clinging cloth Statue: Prairie Wind, Fort Worth, Texas, USA Photograph and poem by Donovan Baldwin

When the wind blows on a cold night, And, something howls, yells, or screeches, Somewhere off in the distant dark, While the moon is shrouded by clouds, Scudding across her face, blocking it, For minutes at a time... When all the scary stories you've heard, Reminds you with a goosebump for every one, As the hair prickles up on the back of your neck, And, along your arms, as you get that cold feeling In the pit of your stomach, And, the perspiration begins to pop out on your body, As you hear footsteps through the trees, or, Is the wind simply blowing dry leaves about, And, your heart begins to beat rapidly in your chest, As, your breath comes faster and faster, Until you stop lying and admit... You are afraid. Think of the times I have saved you before, And, come to me again for protection. • Donovan Baldwin

Hector's gone. He's gone to die. He's gone from Troy. He's gone to try... Try to best the proud Achilles. Hector's wife upon the wall, Who gazes down and watches all Sees the wrath of proud Achilles. Trojans in, and Greeks without Watch Hector's final, fatal bout With Thetis' son, the proud Achilles. Pray for Hector who died bravely As Greeks and Trojans watched so gravely But, also pray for proud Achilles. Who, for his dead friend, Patroclus, Dragged Hector's body through the dust Such was the rage of proud Achilles. For this the gods sat in debate And wove the web which trapped his fate, The looming death of proud Achilles. Neither sword, nor spear, but arrow Little more than swooping sparrow, Dimmed the eyes of proud Achilles. • Donovan Baldwin

Rain's full of old memories. It's been so many places, Washed across so many faces, Curved, caressed, and cooled, Hot bodies feverish with Illness and desires, Touching in rivulets The contours of lovers The earth of other continents, And dust and dirt And a multitude of other drops, Tears of happiness and despair, Mingling with oceans and puddles, Remaining a while then off again. • Donovan Baldwin