Submissions by Baldwin
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
12th Apr 2020 4:21pm
12th Apr 2020 4:21pm
Jesus' love
O Jesus, Lord!
You are so soft,
like down,
like flakes of falling snow,
so good to me
that I can never,
any longer, frown.
You’ve taught mankind
to plainly see, to know
that, like old Plato
and the Orphics claimed
before you came
to earth,
and like the Gnostics, too,
assert against the orthodox,
I have (I am)
an entombed soul
and its intended berth,
its telic goal,
its home is up aloft,
not here within
this doomed, corrupt
(though blessed as good
by...
You are so soft,
like down,
like flakes of falling snow,
so good to me
that I can never,
any longer, frown.
You’ve taught mankind
to plainly see, to know
that, like old Plato
and the Orphics claimed
before you came
to earth,
and like the Gnostics, too,
assert against the orthodox,
I have (I am)
an entombed soul
and its intended berth,
its telic goal,
its home is up aloft,
not here within
this doomed, corrupt
(though blessed as good
by...
#Christian
394 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
12th Apr 2020 3:39pm
12th Apr 2020 3:39pm
Incarnation
To suffer death
was so for him
an easy thing to do.
And being raised
was just a matter of
a small wait in a tomb.
The hardest part
of his becoming
hard enmeshed
within the world
which knew him not
was squeezing down
all of what the Logos was
to be inside
a woman’s womb
to then be made
a tented person
wrapped in flesh.
was so for him
an easy thing to do.
And being raised
was just a matter of
a small wait in a tomb.
The hardest part
of his becoming
hard enmeshed
within the world
which knew him not
was squeezing down
all of what the Logos was
to be inside
a woman’s womb
to then be made
a tented person
wrapped in flesh.
#death
327 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
11th Apr 2020 1:10pm
11th Apr 2020 1:10pm
Golgatha
I watched him die,
this γόης,
this thorn-crowned
nail impaled ψευδοπροφήτης,
this broken "Jewish king"
who’d be the ruining of Israel
if we, his covenanted people, took seriously
his claim that Yahweh’s mandate
makes it clear
we should display
a piety that centers in
a loving non-resistance to our enemy,
the Kittim, Romans, hated conquerors,
who revel in idolatry.
He cried aloud
with his last breath,
bereft of joy ...
this γόης,
this thorn-crowned
nail impaled ψευδοπροφήτης,
this broken "Jewish king"
who’d be the ruining of Israel
if we, his covenanted people, took seriously
his claim that Yahweh’s mandate
makes it clear
we should display
a piety that centers in
a loving non-resistance to our enemy,
the Kittim, Romans, hated conquerors,
who revel in idolatry.
He cried aloud
with his last breath,
bereft of joy ...
#despair
324 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
10th Apr 2020 6:05pm
10th Apr 2020 6:05pm
distance
How sad it is to know
that I will never have
your mouth,
your blazing lips,
pressed close
and avidly on mine,
or never hear
within a sheltered night
you whisper low
and soft against my ear,
within desire inflamed,
as if in ardent prayer
my name.
that I will never have
your mouth,
your blazing lips,
pressed close
and avidly on mine,
or never hear
within a sheltered night
you whisper low
and soft against my ear,
within desire inflamed,
as if in ardent prayer
my name.
#sensual
362 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Apr 2020 5:29pm
9th Apr 2020 5:29pm
No Jewels
As I grow old
and now approach my Moiraid end
the writing skills that I was taught,
that I acquired
and used with some elan,
throughout my life
for working up good poetry
have all become like renegades
to me.
Fair metaphors and similes
that once dripped from my pen
without a moment’s thought,
have in these dimming days
become things lost in fogs.
And oh!
no matter how much effort
I expend in search of them,
an easy apprehension of the kinds
of fine, enchanting words
that was much mine...
and now approach my Moiraid end
the writing skills that I was taught,
that I acquired
and used with some elan,
throughout my life
for working up good poetry
have all become like renegades
to me.
Fair metaphors and similes
that once dripped from my pen
without a moment’s thought,
have in these dimming days
become things lost in fogs.
And oh!
no matter how much effort
I expend in search of them,
an easy apprehension of the kinds
of fine, enchanting words
that was much mine...
#WritingPoetry
#aging
320 reads
12 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Apr 2020 3:27pm
8th Apr 2020 3:27pm
Farmer and his gun
A predatory weasel saw
a farmer with a gun
sitting by what then was left
of all his weasel pilfered hens
so ready to unload
a bullet now and then
to foul the weasel's head and limbs
and make the little carnivore undone.
"I'll scram from here
and 'flee the coop'",
the weasel said.
"Yes, given that my hunger for
a Coronel Sanders breast and leg
might bring my death to me,
my acts of poaching chickens from this man
no longer's any fun".
a farmer with a gun
sitting by what then was left
of all his weasel pilfered hens
so ready to unload
a bullet now and then
to foul the weasel's head and limbs
and make the little carnivore undone.
"I'll scram from here
and 'flee the coop'",
the weasel said.
"Yes, given that my hunger for
a Coronel Sanders breast and leg
might bring my death to me,
my acts of poaching chickens from this man
no longer's any fun".
#parody
330 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
7th Apr 2020 9:40pm
7th Apr 2020 9:40pm
another kiss
And up she brings her mouth to mine,
and then she sets her shining eyes to dazzle me,
to set my blood on fire.
And when intoxicated by her tongue
and towering kiss,
I know the wild expanse of hard desire
and how I die within her body's press.
Possess me then, and harrow all my flesh.
And give to me this death
again, again, again.
and then she sets her shining eyes to dazzle me,
to set my blood on fire.
And when intoxicated by her tongue
and towering kiss,
I know the wild expanse of hard desire
and how I die within her body's press.
Possess me then, and harrow all my flesh.
And give to me this death
again, again, again.
#lust
361 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Apr 2020 6:12pm
6th Apr 2020 6:12pm
Kiss
She turns and bares her neck to me.
She wants, she says,
my tapered tongue to glide,
my mouth to kiss,
a pulsing warmth along the length of it,
to shiver her and make her breasts
come hard alive and ready for my touch.
She shall not be deprived of this,
her aching wish.
She shall be shivered well,
and shivered much.
She wants, she says,
my tapered tongue to glide,
my mouth to kiss,
a pulsing warmth along the length of it,
to shiver her and make her breasts
come hard alive and ready for my touch.
She shall not be deprived of this,
her aching wish.
She shall be shivered well,
and shivered much.
#erotic
457 reads
4 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
5th Apr 2020 8:37pm
5th Apr 2020 8:37pm
night
Let us taste as quickly as we can
the night's cool flesh
and press it wildly up against our skin.
A twilight such as this,
with all the earth now swaddled in
a star sung lullaby,
and evening's black pulse rushing
through the sky,
may never come again.
the night's cool flesh
and press it wildly up against our skin.
A twilight such as this,
with all the earth now swaddled in
a star sung lullaby,
and evening's black pulse rushing
through the sky,
may never come again.
#lust
421 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
4th Apr 2020 7:19pm
4th Apr 2020 7:19pm
Fire eyes
You thief!
I see your fire eyes!
I see them
and I cannot breathe.
The sun grows dim.
For now
within my world
there are no other lights
but these.
I see your fire eyes!
I see them
and I cannot breathe.
The sun grows dim.
For now
within my world
there are no other lights
but these.
#lust
537 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
1st Apr 2020 3:25pm
1st Apr 2020 3:25pm
On J-Z's "From Hands to Hands"
Let’s note:
There’s not, as there should be,
if this supposedly God centered piece of yours
can claim the name of poetry,
a hint of music
sounding out in what you wrote.
There’s nothing here except the incoherency
and pious, preachy platitudes you’re noted for;
no, nothing that would leave a reader
much enchanted,
filled with awe at your capacity for artistry,
at your command of lyrical phraseology,
or struck and magicked by
just how you captured an experience so well
that he or she
was...
There’s not, as there should be,
if this supposedly God centered piece of yours
can claim the name of poetry,
a hint of music
sounding out in what you wrote.
There’s nothing here except the incoherency
and pious, preachy platitudes you’re noted for;
no, nothing that would leave a reader
much enchanted,
filled with awe at your capacity for artistry,
at your command of lyrical phraseology,
or struck and magicked by
just how you captured an experience so well
that he or she
was...
#WritingPoetry
306 reads
10 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
30th Mar 2020 7:55pm
30th Mar 2020 7:55pm
My hope for J-Z
One of these days
you might admit
the way you write
just isn’t fit
for bringing wonder
to the world;
admit that in your strange
insistence that
a writing must be jacketed
within a line trussed up
(not always well)
in stilted measurements,
but need not be concerned
with lyrical felicity
with metaphor and simile,
or any of the elements
that are the bare necessities
if one is ever to produce
some tantalizing verse
is wrong
and come to know
your writings...
you might admit
the way you write
just isn’t fit
for bringing wonder
to the world;
admit that in your strange
insistence that
a writing must be jacketed
within a line trussed up
(not always well)
in stilted measurements,
but need not be concerned
with lyrical felicity
with metaphor and simile,
or any of the elements
that are the bare necessities
if one is ever to produce
some tantalizing verse
is wrong
and come to know
your writings...
#WritingPoetry
319 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Baldwin
