Submissions by Baldwin
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
unremembered
I reached out yesterday
to a flame from long ago
to see if there was yet
some spark of fondness for
our past romance
to find that I’ve become
a triviality
a dusty speck in memory
worth only in significance
to rouse at first,
before remembrance of
our time together lit itself
within her consciousness,
a “Sorry, who are you?”
And then I knew
the crushing weight
that simple words can have.
to a flame from long ago
to see if there was yet
some spark of fondness for
our past romance
to find that I’ve become
a triviality
a dusty speck in memory
worth only in significance
to rouse at first,
before remembrance of
our time together lit itself
within her consciousness,
a “Sorry, who are you?”
And then I knew
the crushing weight
that simple words can have.
#UnrequitedLove
333 reads
2 Comments
Oedipus at Thebes
I stand here on Boeotia’s barren plain,
I’m facing Pirkinon,
the sun unshielded falls in searing sheets
and radiates sharp torments from the ground.
But I, like Cytheraon now at my back,
am rooted to this desecrated bone strewn spot,
I’m moved to be unmovable
until I have defeated her, bright Hera’s spawn,
and purged this bane from Cadmus Land.
I will remain, sweat rilled, salt stung,
mouth dried, but facing it, grey grim,
this she beast with the fouling breath,
the moulting wings and child’s voice,
that sits toss...
I’m facing Pirkinon,
the sun unshielded falls in searing sheets
and radiates sharp torments from the ground.
But I, like Cytheraon now at my back,
am rooted to this desecrated bone strewn spot,
I’m moved to be unmovable
until I have defeated her, bright Hera’s spawn,
and purged this bane from Cadmus Land.
I will remain, sweat rilled, salt stung,
mouth dried, but facing it, grey grim,
this she beast with the fouling breath,
the moulting wings and child’s voice,
that sits toss...
#mythology
203 reads
0 Comments
God's Loaves
I find it curious that it is claimed
the “ loaves of God”
(whatever they may be)
are nourishment
unto a soul, let alone
the sole one (marked definite
and singular by “the”)
that God is said
(and awkwardly at that)
to wish good health
when Scripture says
in Matthew, Mark, and John
that any bread distributed because
of grace divine
was something focused and designed
to feed not souls
(that could not chew bread anyway)
but multitudes
of hungry men.
the “ loaves of God”
(whatever they may be)
are nourishment
unto a soul, let alone
the sole one (marked definite
and singular by “the”)
that God is said
(and awkwardly at that)
to wish good health
when Scripture says
in Matthew, Mark, and John
that any bread distributed because
of grace divine
was something focused and designed
to feed not souls
(that could not chew bread anyway)
but multitudes
of hungry men.
#religion
#God
362 reads
0 Comments
Dreams
Your face
amazes me
and is now
firmly fixed
within
my dreams
amazes me
and is now
firmly fixed
within
my dreams
#love
415 reads
1 Comment
Does God Care for Ghosts?
The Bible says
God’s care is not for ghosts
that for a time
inhabit men, and then
ascend into a ghostly realm
of bliss above,
yes, even if it notes
(tell Job!)
there are such things
and such things do.
It’s persons whom he loves
and cherishes..
The claim that we’re
essentially unbodied things
designed to be eventually
untethered to the world
God made our only home,
is Plato through and through
and is
when set against
the Bible’s point of view
in which it’s said ...
God’s care is not for ghosts
that for a time
inhabit men, and then
ascend into a ghostly realm
of bliss above,
yes, even if it notes
(tell Job!)
there are such things
and such things do.
It’s persons whom he loves
and cherishes..
The claim that we’re
essentially unbodied things
designed to be eventually
untethered to the world
God made our only home,
is Plato through and through
and is
when set against
the Bible’s point of view
in which it’s said ...
#God
176 reads
0 Comments
I Cannot Understand This Thing Called Soul
I cannot understand this thing called soul.
It is, I’m told, essentially,
a ghost in a machine.
But if it is, does it have hands
that crank,
or feet that pedal turn
the wheels and cogs
that constitute the mechanism that it haunts?
If souls are, as is generally assumed,
something immaterial, dimensionless,
comprised of nothing that a body has,
do they possess
capacity to grasp, to feel,
to sense the steel
(or fleshy parts) believers say
that they manipulate?
If yes, how so,
since only...
It is, I’m told, essentially,
a ghost in a machine.
But if it is, does it have hands
that crank,
or feet that pedal turn
the wheels and cogs
that constitute the mechanism that it haunts?
If souls are, as is generally assumed,
something immaterial, dimensionless,
comprised of nothing that a body has,
do they possess
capacity to grasp, to feel,
to sense the steel
(or fleshy parts) believers say
that they manipulate?
If yes, how so,
since only...
#TruthOfLife
169 reads
0 Comments
I'll Not be Obedient to Life
Life, your weight,
your hammer strokes
upon my body and my mind,
your whips and scorns of time
is all too much for me to bear.
If there’s a purpose
in your hammerings
it is not clear.
No matter how I search for it
I’m left insatiate.
And so I ken
along with scores and scores
of other men
whose pain that you’ve been witness to
(if not its cause),
whose wit
you’ve smothered and destroyed,
whose death cries
you have all to often wrung
from them
whose blood you’ve...
your hammer strokes
upon my body and my mind,
your whips and scorns of time
is all too much for me to bear.
If there’s a purpose
in your hammerings
it is not clear.
No matter how I search for it
I’m left insatiate.
And so I ken
along with scores and scores
of other men
whose pain that you’ve been witness to
(if not its cause),
whose wit
you’ve smothered and destroyed,
whose death cries
you have all to often wrung
from them
whose blood you’ve...
#LifeStruggles
#TruthOfLife
#LifeCycle
200 reads
0 Comments
remember, body
I tell my body to remember how
I once was loved
upon the heated bed
in which that golden one and I
had spent October nights.
I tell my eyes to take in once again
the plain glow of unbridling desire
that then was there
within the way that she,
as if astonished,
gazed at me
my ears to hear the tremble
and the adoration
in her voice.
So I might feel I did not lead,
or let myself be led,
into an empty failure of a life
But all these things belong now
to the past, ...
I once was loved
upon the heated bed
in which that golden one and I
had spent October nights.
I tell my eyes to take in once again
the plain glow of unbridling desire
that then was there
within the way that she,
as if astonished,
gazed at me
my ears to hear the tremble
and the adoration
in her voice.
So I might feel I did not lead,
or let myself be led,
into an empty failure of a life
But all these things belong now
to the past, ...
#aging
309 reads
0 Comments
Be Gone!
If you love me,
you will, without delay
whisper now,
your mouth against my ear,
how much your heart
is mine.
But if you for the slightest moment
hesitate
to plight to me your troth
and bring desire true,
within a captivating melody,
today into our lives,
be gone!
There is no sense
in waiting and in wasting time
to hear you say or sing
“I love you, yes,
I do!”.
you will, without delay
whisper now,
your mouth against my ear,
how much your heart
is mine.
But if you for the slightest moment
hesitate
to plight to me your troth
and bring desire true,
within a captivating melody,
today into our lives,
be gone!
There is no sense
in waiting and in wasting time
to hear you say or sing
“I love you, yes,
I do!”.
#anger
348 reads
0 Comments
Song
Somewhere beyond my window sill
a woman sings out
belled high notes.
They’re rounded
full
and burnished bright.
And I, brought up against myself
within a mastery,
a glamouring of song,
am now unwilled to speak or move.
I am bewitched by music’s light.
a woman sings out
belled high notes.
They’re rounded
full
and burnished bright.
And I, brought up against myself
within a mastery,
a glamouring of song,
am now unwilled to speak or move.
I am bewitched by music’s light.
#music
270 reads
3 Comments
My Heart and Song
My heart produces songs in me
I do not want to hear or sing.
Such songs are icy, most unwelcome things;
they’re dire.
Instead of lilting me to joy
they, quite against my will,
destroy my peace of mind
and make so disharmonious my world.
They are not my guide to love,
nor can they ever be.
I do not want to hear or sing.
Such songs are icy, most unwelcome things;
they’re dire.
Instead of lilting me to joy
they, quite against my will,
destroy my peace of mind
and make so disharmonious my world.
They are not my guide to love,
nor can they ever be.
#heartbroken
146 reads
0 Comments
Here
Here,
incarnate in this lonely body now,
circumscribed, outlined in dust,
the whole of me,
confined inside a slope of flesh,
how shall I find release?
Give me
here,
along my weighted limbs,
the molding pressure of your hands;
here,
upon my eyes,
the soft releasings of your mouth;
here, below,
the shaping upwards of your touch.
Make me forget today
that I am clay, and dull,
and only of the earth.
incarnate in this lonely body now,
circumscribed, outlined in dust,
the whole of me,
confined inside a slope of flesh,
how shall I find release?
Give me
here,
along my weighted limbs,
the molding pressure of your hands;
here,
upon my eyes,
the soft releasings of your mouth;
here, below,
the shaping upwards of your touch.
Make me forget today
that I am clay, and dull,
and only of the earth.
#passion
247 reads
19 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Baldwin