Submissions by Baldwin
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
You Ought to Know
You ought to know
what’s true:
It’s that my heart
within these “after” years
is still, yes still,
filled up solely with one want
one need,
one thought.
Despite the distancing of us
by time and circumstance,
in spite of everything that makes us separate,
apart,
all it ever thinks about,
all it ever calls to mind,
before I wake
before I sleep,
and in the empty moments in between
is you.
what’s true:
It’s that my heart
within these “after” years
is still, yes still,
filled up solely with one want
one need,
one thought.
Despite the distancing of us
by time and circumstance,
in spite of everything that makes us separate,
apart,
all it ever thinks about,
all it ever calls to mind,
before I wake
before I sleep,
and in the empty moments in between
is you.
#love
292 reads
5 Comments
Where are we headed to?
I wonder if,
in light of the rapidity
in which we see
the attitude of Lamech
towards those who might attempt
to injure him
encompassing the world
within a burgeoning hostility
that voids morality,
man’s destiny is doom
and inescapable calamity.
I doubt that love of enemy,
no matter how much honour
is obtained by it,
will ever be sufficient, fit
to quell, or more importantly, reverse
the darkening curse
that’s now upon humanity
and all the earth ...
in light of the rapidity
in which we see
the attitude of Lamech
towards those who might attempt
to injure him
encompassing the world
within a burgeoning hostility
that voids morality,
man’s destiny is doom
and inescapable calamity.
I doubt that love of enemy,
no matter how much honour
is obtained by it,
will ever be sufficient, fit
to quell, or more importantly, reverse
the darkening curse
that’s now upon humanity
and all the earth ...
#tragedy
196 reads
0 Comments
Subservience?
Girls
Let your heart now be inhabited,
possessed
within the wild thought,
the thought that has the power
to set your blood astir,
that you, because you are a girl,
may, as you grow,
become by right empowered
beyond the reach
of any man
who is convicted
and convinced that you
are someone God has wrought
to only be
men's maid,
and destined by your gender as
inferior,
designed for chaste subservience at every hour
to any of
their wishes and their whims
if you are ever to be saved. ...
Let your heart now be inhabited,
possessed
within the wild thought,
the thought that has the power
to set your blood astir,
that you, because you are a girl,
may, as you grow,
become by right empowered
beyond the reach
of any man
who is convicted
and convinced that you
are someone God has wrought
to only be
men's maid,
and destined by your gender as
inferior,
designed for chaste subservience at every hour
to any of
their wishes and their whims
if you are ever to be saved. ...
#women
195 reads
4 Comments
you away
I looked for easy stars last night,
the dipper and the bear,
or constellations anyone could see,
to let me know that light persists
above,
below,
to show me that my world is not
unwound and stark and frayed.
They were not there.
The firmament is voiceless, dark,
and all that lies beneath its arc
is random now,
and venial,
with you away.
the dipper and the bear,
or constellations anyone could see,
to let me know that light persists
above,
below,
to show me that my world is not
unwound and stark and frayed.
They were not there.
The firmament is voiceless, dark,
and all that lies beneath its arc
is random now,
and venial,
with you away.
#loneliness
245 reads
2 Comments
10th Month
The wind rides low in steady rills,
the air’s aswirl with leaves in flight;
and poplars flame along the hills
to fire October’s golden light.
the air’s aswirl with leaves in flight;
and poplars flame along the hills
to fire October’s golden light.
#fall
187 reads
0 Comments
The Damning Present
What does the present give birth to?
Despite a “poet’s” apodictic claim,
it isn’t always happiness.
And it’s not true the present's yield
is ever fertile, unrestricted, musing choice.
For frequently, especially for those with broken hearts,
or marks of harsh abuse,
or combat wounds, or introspective sinner’s too,
the present bears into the world
a haunting, undimmed voice
that speaks out from the past
and grounds
a bleakening and uncontrollable despair
that's due
to unforgotten martial trauma still...
Despite a “poet’s” apodictic claim,
it isn’t always happiness.
And it’s not true the present's yield
is ever fertile, unrestricted, musing choice.
For frequently, especially for those with broken hearts,
or marks of harsh abuse,
or combat wounds, or introspective sinner’s too,
the present bears into the world
a haunting, undimmed voice
that speaks out from the past
and grounds
a bleakening and uncontrollable despair
that's due
to unforgotten martial trauma still...
#LifeStruggles
196 reads
0 Comments
The Glisten Gray
The glisten gray, the glide, the shuffling hiss
of mist and pelting rain has not for days released
its hold
upon the city’s towers and its spires,.
This sodden press continues to
collapse the bridges and the roundabouts,
the far horizons and familiar compass points,
into a murky hushing swirl,
a clammy chilling scold.
It sheens again funereally
this morning’s light,
and lacquers dank and dim
the dumb mouthed statues in the parks,
the aging...
of mist and pelting rain has not for days released
its hold
upon the city’s towers and its spires,.
This sodden press continues to
collapse the bridges and the roundabouts,
the far horizons and familiar compass points,
into a murky hushing swirl,
a clammy chilling scold.
It sheens again funereally
this morning’s light,
and lacquers dank and dim
the dumb mouthed statues in the parks,
the aging...
#rain
199 reads
7 Comments
I Dreamed a Dream
I dreamed a dream in which a wolf,
a crouched grey stir
with seething eyes
all snarl lit,
and tongue, a crimson laze,
a flowing cardinal’s robe,
lolled out a flickered lick
against its jaw,
paw padded then
with muscles darkly coiled
like night in stealth,
right up to me, when I, in sleep,
had drifted to
an open mouth
of ragged forest edge.
It had no words, and yet I understood
when it began to muzzle me,
its face a fur lined kiss
against my cheek,
that it had come to herald you ...
a crouched grey stir
with seething eyes
all snarl lit,
and tongue, a crimson laze,
a flowing cardinal’s robe,
lolled out a flickered lick
against its jaw,
paw padded then
with muscles darkly coiled
like night in stealth,
right up to me, when I, in sleep,
had drifted to
an open mouth
of ragged forest edge.
It had no words, and yet I understood
when it began to muzzle me,
its face a fur lined kiss
against my cheek,
that it had come to herald you ...
#dreams
158 reads
0 Comments
A Renewed Challenge to J-Z
I wonder if you’re capable of writing verse
that’s not about calamity
or man’s “bright” Gnostic otherworldly destiny,
or how men are depraved, like beasts,
unsaved, unsave-able and jealous, full of
damning lusts,
or just how much you love the lord
and see in him relief, release,
from this world’s misery?
Can you post, instead, a gentled exploration of
the subtitles of love
with cunning vibrant words,
not heavy-handed ones,
as is your wont,
that show, not tell,
through simile and metaphor
and language that is...
that’s not about calamity
or man’s “bright” Gnostic otherworldly destiny,
or how men are depraved, like beasts,
unsaved, unsave-able and jealous, full of
damning lusts,
or just how much you love the lord
and see in him relief, release,
from this world’s misery?
Can you post, instead, a gentled exploration of
the subtitles of love
with cunning vibrant words,
not heavy-handed ones,
as is your wont,
that show, not tell,
through simile and metaphor
and language that is...
#WritingPoetry
179 reads
1 Comment
Circe
I'm tired, a husk,
worn out, bowed down
and seer.
So be subduing Circe now
and take me,
slake me, in your arms
and, like a low breeze coursing
slowly over Summer's golden fields,
waft yourself along my limbs
gently, warm,
until I,
leisured, drowsy,
loosened, cursive,
sigh
content with you,
and waves of welcome sleep,
seal up my eyes.
worn out, bowed down
and seer.
So be subduing Circe now
and take me,
slake me, in your arms
and, like a low breeze coursing
slowly over Summer's golden fields,
waft yourself along my limbs
gently, warm,
until I,
leisured, drowsy,
loosened, cursive,
sigh
content with you,
and waves of welcome sleep,
seal up my eyes.
#sleep
244 reads
0 Comments
Odysseus the Liar
So Circe never won the heart inside you,
never, so you say?
And yet it was your men,
now wasn’t it,
homesick, sore afraid,
and longing for their unforgotten wives,
who had to prize you from her grasp
to sail again the sea
towards delayed Ithaca,
recall you to your stated destiny?
What lies, you spin!
For one who claims his name means
“Born for Pain”,
you took your time, and theirs,
a year
in pleasurings.
And this I also know:
If Circe called to you again
called with her sirens’ voice, ...
never, so you say?
And yet it was your men,
now wasn’t it,
homesick, sore afraid,
and longing for their unforgotten wives,
who had to prize you from her grasp
to sail again the sea
towards delayed Ithaca,
recall you to your stated destiny?
What lies, you spin!
For one who claims his name means
“Born for Pain”,
you took your time, and theirs,
a year
in pleasurings.
And this I also know:
If Circe called to you again
called with her sirens’ voice, ...
#temptation
331 reads
8 Comments
This Body
I’ve lived within this body,
this frailing thing,
for over sixty years.
I think now that I know its ways
and all it holds inside itself;
the stories of its wants, its faults,
fragilities and strengths.
It has become
a narrative that is
utterly predictable,
a book I’ve memorized.
It cannot, even when it’s bold,
bring fire or a surprise to me.
We are now like settled friends.
But then, but then
on some incertain winter’s night
that’s yet to come, or other day
that’s close, I...
this frailing thing,
for over sixty years.
I think now that I know its ways
and all it holds inside itself;
the stories of its wants, its faults,
fragilities and strengths.
It has become
a narrative that is
utterly predictable,
a book I’ve memorized.
It cannot, even when it’s bold,
bring fire or a surprise to me.
We are now like settled friends.
But then, but then
on some incertain winter’s night
that’s yet to come, or other day
that’s close, I...
#aging
293 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Baldwin