Submissions by Baldwin
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
ANGER POEM
Published
30th May 2022 3:14pm
30th May 2022 3:14pm
Memorial Day
The killing fields of Ypres,
Verdun, and of the Somme
are verdant now,
their greening since the Armistice
have each become
a cover for the lie
of ages old
the ardent young were once
and still today are told
of how it is a noble and a glorious thing
to kill and die.
for God, for country, and for king.
Verdun, and of the Somme
are verdant now,
their greening since the Armistice
have each become
a cover for the lie
of ages old
the ardent young were once
and still today are told
of how it is a noble and a glorious thing
to kill and die.
for God, for country, and for king.
#soldiers
285 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th May 2022 6:38pm
26th May 2022 6:38pm
The Home of Words
Is it not true
that often the outstanding place
where words abide
and find their home’s within
are rants that come from hate-filled mouths
intent to slur, malign
what’s fine in other’s eyes,
to spur some people from
among the ignorant and misinformed
and prejudiced
to sin?
that often the outstanding place
where words abide
and find their home’s within
are rants that come from hate-filled mouths
intent to slur, malign
what’s fine in other’s eyes,
to spur some people from
among the ignorant and misinformed
and prejudiced
to sin?
#WritingPoetry
171 reads
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OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th May 2022 8:50pm
24th May 2022 8:50pm
Concepts without Percepts
Notions don’t dress up one’s lines
let alone in niceties.
It’s only when a notion’s sheathed in words
that this occurs
and then, unless these words
are shaped, construed, to sparkle verbally
when they’re set out together each to each
and peak in their arrangements on a page
without displaying solecisms or
some ghastly breaches
of good grammar’s golden rules
or use of awkward phrases too
that mars a poem’s prosody
they’ll show
a would-be, braggart poet up
as talentless, possessing no...
let alone in niceties.
It’s only when a notion’s sheathed in words
that this occurs
and then, unless these words
are shaped, construed, to sparkle verbally
when they’re set out together each to each
and peak in their arrangements on a page
without displaying solecisms or
some ghastly breaches
of good grammar’s golden rules
or use of awkward phrases too
that mars a poem’s prosody
they’ll show
a would-be, braggart poet up
as talentless, possessing no...
#WritingPoetry
196 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
23rd May 2022 10:33pm
23rd May 2022 10:33pm
An Inner Monologue
If I were truthful to myself
I would admit
the notions that I often “chase”
(for instance, how an afterlife
makes living now worthwhile;
how Jesus is the source
of human happiness
how “man”s” desire for sex
and wealth leads to calamity)
when I intend to write some poetry
are not all by themselves articulate
or meaningful or treasure-filled,
or when they're ranked against
some other notions people have
in any way premier
How could they be?
For they're abstractions,...
I would admit
the notions that I often “chase”
(for instance, how an afterlife
makes living now worthwhile;
how Jesus is the source
of human happiness
how “man”s” desire for sex
and wealth leads to calamity)
when I intend to write some poetry
are not all by themselves articulate
or meaningful or treasure-filled,
or when they're ranked against
some other notions people have
in any way premier
How could they be?
For they're abstractions,...
#WritingPoetry
174 reads
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OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th May 2022 9:09pm
16th May 2022 9:09pm
Was Jesus Uniquely "Great"?
When I consider all that Jesus taught,
proclaimed, consistently rehearsed,
about the God of Israel,
his mercies and his grace
towards both sinner and the saint,
and how H-Shem requires his chosen ones,
his would-be faithful sons,
to focus on displaying charity,
especially unto their lowly kin
and also what this Nazorean did for those
who were deprived of justice, kindness, health
and hope,
or suffered from the grave effects
of what their leaders did
to please their Roman overlords,
I cannot...
proclaimed, consistently rehearsed,
about the God of Israel,
his mercies and his grace
towards both sinner and the saint,
and how H-Shem requires his chosen ones,
his would-be faithful sons,
to focus on displaying charity,
especially unto their lowly kin
and also what this Nazorean did for those
who were deprived of justice, kindness, health
and hope,
or suffered from the grave effects
of what their leaders did
to please their Roman overlords,
I cannot...
#identity
205 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
15th May 2022 9:56pm
15th May 2022 9:56pm
I am religious (revised)
I am religious once again.
For you have made my bed
a place of eager pilgrimage
where I, at journey's end,
become devout within your arms,
and then, amazed
at how evocative to reverence
of things divine they are,
I am inspired to prayer
and bent to call out avidly
the name of god.
For you have made my bed
a place of eager pilgrimage
where I, at journey's end,
become devout within your arms,
and then, amazed
at how evocative to reverence
of things divine they are,
I am inspired to prayer
and bent to call out avidly
the name of god.
#sensual
342 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
14th May 2022 8:49pm
14th May 2022 8:49pm
How Will You Know?
How will you know
that I speak truthfully
when I, all breathless, pledge to you
that I am yours?
The proof will be
the widening glow that rises in my eyes,
the tremble in my voice
when you are near to me,
and then the way my body
arches up into your touch
and how you make my tongue
so avidly,
when we are body pressed,
begin to lash dark dreams
upon your skin.
By all of this
you’ll of my plighted troth
be quite assured.
Oh some (the prudish sort)
might say
that when...
that I speak truthfully
when I, all breathless, pledge to you
that I am yours?
The proof will be
the widening glow that rises in my eyes,
the tremble in my voice
when you are near to me,
and then the way my body
arches up into your touch
and how you make my tongue
so avidly,
when we are body pressed,
begin to lash dark dreams
upon your skin.
By all of this
you’ll of my plighted troth
be quite assured.
Oh some (the prudish sort)
might say
that when...
#love
332 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th May 2022 6:44pm
4th May 2022 6:44pm
Golgotha
O Joseph Z,
if you had been at Golgotha
that fateful darkened day,
would you have wept in sympathy
while standing there
close by the mocked one’s side
until the time that he cried out
forsakenly “My God!”
and breathed his last?
Or would you then have been among
the ones
who, roving past the bloodied hanging man
whose titulus declared him King,
reviled him when God refused his rescuing?
Your pietistic confidence
that you’d have taken up
with Mary and the other women
watching Jesus...
if you had been at Golgotha
that fateful darkened day,
would you have wept in sympathy
while standing there
close by the mocked one’s side
until the time that he cried out
forsakenly “My God!”
and breathed his last?
Or would you then have been among
the ones
who, roving past the bloodied hanging man
whose titulus declared him King,
reviled him when God refused his rescuing?
Your pietistic confidence
that you’d have taken up
with Mary and the other women
watching Jesus...
#SelfWorth
390 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd May 2022 2:12pm
2nd May 2022 2:12pm
As You Slept
As you slept
your hand came like a dove descending
to my shoulder blades --
I wondered then
if you had dreamt your touch to be
a bookmark to remember where
you’d left off with
your mouth’s soft reading
all the love for you that’s written
on and underneath my skin,
a marking where, on waking,
you would, I hoped,
begin to read again.
your hand came like a dove descending
to my shoulder blades --
I wondered then
if you had dreamt your touch to be
a bookmark to remember where
you’d left off with
your mouth’s soft reading
all the love for you that’s written
on and underneath my skin,
a marking where, on waking,
you would, I hoped,
begin to read again.
#lover
290 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
28th Apr 2022 9:56pm
28th Apr 2022 9:56pm
What was his boon?
It was the **Devil’s** claim that Jesus should
have God make bread for him from stones
since being fed, the Devil said,
and rescued from the dangers to his life
that Jesus surely had to face
on Temple top,
from rulers and authorities
and in Gethsemane
were things that as God’s Son
sweet Jesus knew as boons that he possessed by right,
and should not think that suffering was
his chartered course
or something that would bring him joy.
But God’s anointed one
rejected this. His happiness, he oft opined,
lay in his...
have God make bread for him from stones
since being fed, the Devil said,
and rescued from the dangers to his life
that Jesus surely had to face
on Temple top,
from rulers and authorities
and in Gethsemane
were things that as God’s Son
sweet Jesus knew as boons that he possessed by right,
and should not think that suffering was
his chartered course
or something that would bring him joy.
But God’s anointed one
rejected this. His happiness, he oft opined,
lay in his...
#LifeGoals
219 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Apr 2022 6:12pm
24th Apr 2022 6:12pm
the Moment Afterwards
Oh the moment afterwards
when everything is still except our breath
and we have found a corner of the world that’s good,
the whirling earth at ease
and floating slowly under us,
my bed an island in the sun,
and nothing nothing nothing anywhere
save holding you
needs done.
when everything is still except our breath
and we have found a corner of the world that’s good,
the whirling earth at ease
and floating slowly under us,
my bed an island in the sun,
and nothing nothing nothing anywhere
save holding you
needs done.
#sensual
265 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
19th Apr 2022 1:11pm
19th Apr 2022 1:11pm
Calvary
Now as my wounds allow
hot blood to drain into my eyes
and then along the reach and span
of my suspended body’s length and limbs,
and as I find it more and more impossible
without spiked agony
searing through my wrists and feet
to lift myself, as needs must be,
if I’m to fill my ragged lungs with breath,
I’m on the verge of being pieced and breached
again
by harrowing despair
that surges in the depths of me
upon the sudden dawning of unbidden thoughts
that I’m no longer, if I ever was,
anointed for a heavened...
hot blood to drain into my eyes
and then along the reach and span
of my suspended body’s length and limbs,
and as I find it more and more impossible
without spiked agony
searing through my wrists and feet
to lift myself, as needs must be,
if I’m to fill my ragged lungs with breath,
I’m on the verge of being pieced and breached
again
by harrowing despair
that surges in the depths of me
upon the sudden dawning of unbidden thoughts
that I’m no longer, if I ever was,
anointed for a heavened...
#grief
331 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Baldwin
