Submissions by Baldwin
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Nov 2022 1:19pm
24th Nov 2022 1:19pm
Bring me at this time of year,
Bring me at this time of year,
this time of loning wind
and cold
and early dusk,
a music wild and dangerous
a music that the heavens cannot hold.
Bring me the chorales the angels sang
at Christmas tide,
the gloried song that burnished then the stars
and kept the closing dark at bay.
Bring me their cheer,
their bright enkindling,
and pine, and fire, too.
For I, a thing made up of Eros and of tumbling dust,
grow old,
and, knowing that I’m waning
in the number of my days to come,
so want this with me here. ...
this time of loning wind
and cold
and early dusk,
a music wild and dangerous
a music that the heavens cannot hold.
Bring me the chorales the angels sang
at Christmas tide,
the gloried song that burnished then the stars
and kept the closing dark at bay.
Bring me their cheer,
their bright enkindling,
and pine, and fire, too.
For I, a thing made up of Eros and of tumbling dust,
grow old,
and, knowing that I’m waning
in the number of my days to come,
so want this with me here. ...
#Christmas
301 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
5th Nov 2022 12:34pm
5th Nov 2022 12:34pm
Can I trust my dear life to a re-occurrence of what happened to me in the past?
I’m wondering if I
can trust my life
to what took place
within my past
should those events
occur again.
If they were those
in which I knew
the joys
of being loved
and being blessed
by friendships that
were strong
by unexpected kindnesses
from teachers and
from shopkeepers
delivery men and clerks
of golden Summer times
and the magic of
bright Christmasses
the answer’s “Yes”.
can trust my life
to what took place
within my past
should those events
occur again.
If they were those
in which I knew
the joys
of being loved
and being blessed
by friendships that
were strong
by unexpected kindnesses
from teachers and
from shopkeepers
delivery men and clerks
of golden Summer times
and the magic of
bright Christmasses
the answer’s “Yes”.
#LifeCycle
247 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Nov 2022 8:02pm
2nd Nov 2022 8:02pm
Old Men and the Sea
I’ve seen the fisherman,
that Papa Hemmingway once wrote about
and heard the tales that they’d spin out
at night when they had hung their purse seines
up to dry.
Did they speak of mermaids then
and one-eyed whales,
and willing Cuban whores
who'd rut for days?
Ah yes, they did,
But only to the gullible
who'd stand them drinks
in recompense for being swayed
within the magic of their words.
Oh, how these winking men,
these old salt-lying piscators,
were sly.
that Papa Hemmingway once wrote about
and heard the tales that they’d spin out
at night when they had hung their purse seines
up to dry.
Did they speak of mermaids then
and one-eyed whales,
and willing Cuban whores
who'd rut for days?
Ah yes, they did,
But only to the gullible
who'd stand them drinks
in recompense for being swayed
within the magic of their words.
Oh, how these winking men,
these old salt-lying piscators,
were sly.
#sea
208 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
28th Oct 2022 5:24pm
28th Oct 2022 5:24pm
Gaining the World
I know that I am tasked
though choices I have freely made
with following the ways of Jesus Christ
I’m worried though,
since this, perchance,
involves my braving
for his Gospel’s sake
my death upon a cross
or in a place of spectacle,
that I,
when hard fact faced
with this
and all the suffering
it might be prefaced by ,’
would find myself
a man among the weak,
that is to say,
as one who lacked
the strength of mind and will
to see his duty done
...
though choices I have freely made
with following the ways of Jesus Christ
I’m worried though,
since this, perchance,
involves my braving
for his Gospel’s sake
my death upon a cross
or in a place of spectacle,
that I,
when hard fact faced
with this
and all the suffering
it might be prefaced by ,’
would find myself
a man among the weak,
that is to say,
as one who lacked
the strength of mind and will
to see his duty done
...
#responsibility
166 reads
5 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Oct 2022 3:14pm
12th Oct 2022 3:14pm
Time of sexual purity
I would like to know
if it were ever so
as someone claimed
that once there was a time
when only those
of married state
had sex
and only then
with sole intent
to propagate
with purpose to ensure
their nation would
sustain itself
by being filled a lot
with uncorrupted sons
and if so, when it was.
and likewise if
there also was
in history a clime
in which
all men who had
as yet remained unwed
restrained themselves
from semen’s spread
and never...
if it were ever so
as someone claimed
that once there was a time
when only those
of married state
had sex
and only then
with sole intent
to propagate
with purpose to ensure
their nation would
sustain itself
by being filled a lot
with uncorrupted sons
and if so, when it was.
and likewise if
there also was
in history a clime
in which
all men who had
as yet remained unwed
restrained themselves
from semen’s spread
and never...
#sex
#parody
#morality
304 reads
15 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Oct 2022 5:46pm
2nd Oct 2022 5:46pm
Come
Come.
Enfold yourself in me.
Know grace and warmth
and then enveloping serenity.
Burrow down in gentleness
within my arms
and bring your ear
close to my face
so you can hear me whispering
to you,
“You’re safe, you’re safe,
you’re safe.
Enfold yourself in me.
Know grace and warmth
and then enveloping serenity.
Burrow down in gentleness
within my arms
and bring your ear
close to my face
so you can hear me whispering
to you,
“You’re safe, you’re safe,
you’re safe.
#romantic
321 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
28th Sep 2022 8:22pm
28th Sep 2022 8:22pm
I require my woman be ...
I want a woman who
is just like me:
one who
has so prudishly
unto this day remained
within a virgin's state
despite the fleshy tug
of "man's"
entrancing post-pubescent needs.
For otherwise
she is within my moralistic judgment
and my eyes
a piece of damaged goods
a soiled commodity,
impure,
a whore
so undeserving to deplete me
of my chastity,
and so my nuptial seed,
and oh so worthy of disdain.
is just like me:
one who
has so prudishly
unto this day remained
within a virgin's state
despite the fleshy tug
of "man's"
entrancing post-pubescent needs.
For otherwise
she is within my moralistic judgment
and my eyes
a piece of damaged goods
a soiled commodity,
impure,
a whore
so undeserving to deplete me
of my chastity,
and so my nuptial seed,
and oh so worthy of disdain.
#morality
193 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th Sep 2022 7:54pm
26th Sep 2022 7:54pm
An Etheree on September
How
I want
to wander
late September
streets for countless hours
to hear the wind blow leaves
in circling whirls that whisper
to each other in the speech of
ghosts the hidden secrets of the way
the languished Autumn earth begins to die.
I want
to wander
late September
streets for countless hours
to hear the wind blow leaves
in circling whirls that whisper
to each other in the speech of
ghosts the hidden secrets of the way
the languished Autumn earth begins to die.
#fall
211 reads
6 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
16th Sep 2022 9:17pm
16th Sep 2022 9:17pm
Ah you!
Ah you!
Your hand so tangled purposely within your hair
to show your shining eyes to me,
and how you smile,
with playful knowledge
lying winsome, teasing, on your lips,
like lovers’ secret whispers in the night.
Your hand so tangled purposely within your hair
to show your shining eyes to me,
and how you smile,
with playful knowledge
lying winsome, teasing, on your lips,
like lovers’ secret whispers in the night.
#lust
387 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Sep 2022 4:06pm
12th Sep 2022 4:06pm
It's Early Morning Now
It’s early morning now;
my bedroom’s not yet
far beyond grey light..
Somewhere in the distance
sleeping cars are being churned to life.
My lover’s in my kitchen making coffee
for us both
and as it drips into the pot
she, in dawning wakefulness,
begins to hum
some lilting Celtic melody.
I stay awhile in bed,
eyes closed,
and float within
the silky current of her voice.
It’s morning now
but it is not yet light.
my bedroom’s not yet
far beyond grey light..
Somewhere in the distance
sleeping cars are being churned to life.
My lover’s in my kitchen making coffee
for us both
and as it drips into the pot
she, in dawning wakefulness,
begins to hum
some lilting Celtic melody.
I stay awhile in bed,
eyes closed,
and float within
the silky current of her voice.
It’s morning now
but it is not yet light.
#happiness
188 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Sep 2022 3:21pm
5th Sep 2022 3:21pm
There Have Been Times
There have been times
when some event or sight
within my life so
breaks itself
against my consciousness
to make me say
“Look! Here is something that will be
so firmly lodged,
and will remain
when other memories are dim with age,
inside my brain forevering”.
And one of these that’s played itself of late
was just how you, blue-jeaned
and jacketed in brown,
a hint of coming Autumn
then surrounding you,
skipped sideways
down the concrete stairs
of the museum,
where we had arranged ...
when some event or sight
within my life so
breaks itself
against my consciousness
to make me say
“Look! Here is something that will be
so firmly lodged,
and will remain
when other memories are dim with age,
inside my brain forevering”.
And one of these that’s played itself of late
was just how you, blue-jeaned
and jacketed in brown,
a hint of coming Autumn
then surrounding you,
skipped sideways
down the concrete stairs
of the museum,
where we had arranged ...
#love
206 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
1st Sep 2022 1:23pm
1st Sep 2022 1:23pm
Watching
He sits in a café day after day
and watches the young females,
long of leg
and lithe of arm,
who come to sit
and drink
their coffee or their tea
while gazing at their smartphones’ screens
as if the glass were then
a dark queen’s magic mirroring,
intently texting friends and lovers with
the summons to be told
they are indeed the fairest maid of all.
He has not touched a woman in ten years.
He is content to watch
their conjurings,
the way their breasts move with desire,
and live a vivid life inside his eyes.
and watches the young females,
long of leg
and lithe of arm,
who come to sit
and drink
their coffee or their tea
while gazing at their smartphones’ screens
as if the glass were then
a dark queen’s magic mirroring,
intently texting friends and lovers with
the summons to be told
they are indeed the fairest maid of all.
He has not touched a woman in ten years.
He is content to watch
their conjurings,
the way their breasts move with desire,
and live a vivid life inside his eyes.
#lust
262 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Baldwin
