Submissions by Baldwin
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2020 9:09pm
23rd Feb 2020 9:09pm
stages
I’ve heard it claimed
that when we’re young
we know a happiness that will not be
surpassed in any of our later days.
In fact, it’s said, life’s destiny’s
at things that cannot help but dim
and make unreachable the memory
of how content we were
at play within the lilting years just after infancy
For time’s cruel hand will all too soon
immerse us in a growing consciousness
of how much life is really
nothing but a vale of tears.
Oh, yes. There’s something to be said
in favour of the Edening of...
that when we’re young
we know a happiness that will not be
surpassed in any of our later days.
In fact, it’s said, life’s destiny’s
at things that cannot help but dim
and make unreachable the memory
of how content we were
at play within the lilting years just after infancy
For time’s cruel hand will all too soon
immerse us in a growing consciousness
of how much life is really
nothing but a vale of tears.
Oh, yes. There’s something to be said
in favour of the Edening of...
#aging
355 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
15th Feb 2020 9:26pm
15th Feb 2020 9:26pm
God
What was it like
when I met God?
I tell you now
I was gob stopped
and quite surprised
(and not in any heedless way)
to see
with dazzled eyes
a vision quite the opposite
of what my expectations were:
that he in all his majesty’s
a she.
when I met God?
I tell you now
I was gob stopped
and quite surprised
(and not in any heedless way)
to see
with dazzled eyes
a vision quite the opposite
of what my expectations were:
that he in all his majesty’s
a she.
#God
330 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Feb 2020 8:46pm
15th Feb 2020 8:46pm
afterlife?
It is said
that when a pious person dies
his death’s to him “big cheer”
because he'll be united
once again with all
his dear departed family.
But is this true?
The answer lies
on whether he survives
his death,
and then within
a disincarnate state
in which there is
and unthin “him”
still capable
without a body or
a brain
of knowing or
of feeling anything.
Sorry, but I think
this notion of a happy life
as conscious souls
perceiving and perceptible,
united with ...
that when a pious person dies
his death’s to him “big cheer”
because he'll be united
once again with all
his dear departed family.
But is this true?
The answer lies
on whether he survives
his death,
and then within
a disincarnate state
in which there is
and unthin “him”
still capable
without a body or
a brain
of knowing or
of feeling anything.
Sorry, but I think
this notion of a happy life
as conscious souls
perceiving and perceptible,
united with ...
#heaven
408 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
12th Feb 2020 3:46pm
12th Feb 2020 3:46pm
Ha Satan
I find it curious that when examining
the wisdom of the Rabbis that’s
preserved for us within
the Mishna, Talmud, and
Tosefta, too
I nowhere find the Satan viewed
as one to be despised.
He’s never named the Evil One
or Father of all lies
or fatal enemy of “man”
or far beyond “I Am’s” control.
In fact he’s there acknowledged as
(see Bava Bathra’s testament in 16b)
a faithful servant of ha Shem,
hard burdened with a thankless but
a necessary holy task
within the divinized economy.
...
the wisdom of the Rabbis that’s
preserved for us within
the Mishna, Talmud, and
Tosefta, too
I nowhere find the Satan viewed
as one to be despised.
He’s never named the Evil One
or Father of all lies
or fatal enemy of “man”
or far beyond “I Am’s” control.
In fact he’s there acknowledged as
(see Bava Bathra’s testament in 16b)
a faithful servant of ha Shem,
hard burdened with a thankless but
a necessary holy task
within the divinized economy.
...
#heaven
556 reads
18 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Feb 2020 7:30pm
8th Feb 2020 7:30pm
A Challenge to J-Z -- and anyone else here who might find it fun to imitate Byron, Yeats, et. al.
I challenge you, J-Z, to write some verse that has
a filled capacity to make a woman swoon
and fires desire in her to run headlong into
your arms, all breathless, sighing with her love for you .
Now this would mean you’d have to fill your measured lines
for once with true erotic charm, avoid cliches,
and also then eschew the awkward phrasings and
the rhymes predictable and dull you’re wont to place
inside the dreary lines you set upon the page.
Now given that you’ve claimed to be a writer who
has mastered every grace that gilded...
a filled capacity to make a woman swoon
and fires desire in her to run headlong into
your arms, all breathless, sighing with her love for you .
Now this would mean you’d have to fill your measured lines
for once with true erotic charm, avoid cliches,
and also then eschew the awkward phrasings and
the rhymes predictable and dull you’re wont to place
inside the dreary lines you set upon the page.
Now given that you’ve claimed to be a writer who
has mastered every grace that gilded...
#WritingPoetry
441 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
7th Feb 2020 9:36pm
7th Feb 2020 9:36pm
The Traditions of the Best English Poets
I wonder now if what you claim is true:
that all the versifiers of the golden age of poetry,
when reigned Will Shakespeare and his ilk
(Rossetti, Marlowe, Milton, Donne, Traherne, Carew)
and those who wrote before free verse became the rage,
like Browning, Byron, Shelly, Keats and Pope,
Thoreau, and Hardy, too,
felt free, if not obliged, to give
all leave unto themselves
to think it so that they, to get a cunning verse
or two,
had liberty, indeed a mandate then,
to throw good grammar to the wind,
and felt that it was never...
that all the versifiers of the golden age of poetry,
when reigned Will Shakespeare and his ilk
(Rossetti, Marlowe, Milton, Donne, Traherne, Carew)
and those who wrote before free verse became the rage,
like Browning, Byron, Shelly, Keats and Pope,
Thoreau, and Hardy, too,
felt free, if not obliged, to give
all leave unto themselves
to think it so that they, to get a cunning verse
or two,
had liberty, indeed a mandate then,
to throw good grammar to the wind,
and felt that it was never...
#WritingPoetry
355 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Feb 2020 12:50pm
6th Feb 2020 12:50pm
How Many Times?
You ask how many times
that I must have your kiss
before I would be satisfied that you were mine.
As many as the winds that hasten all the trees
beyond the sea.
As many as the rains that from the earliest of dawns
to this
have fallen on the earth, its slanting hills,
and turned to rime.
As many as the stars that line and surge the sky
when nightfall comes,
though even these may never be enough.
But let us use this day, and all to come,
to see.
that I must have your kiss
before I would be satisfied that you were mine.
As many as the winds that hasten all the trees
beyond the sea.
As many as the rains that from the earliest of dawns
to this
have fallen on the earth, its slanting hills,
and turned to rime.
As many as the stars that line and surge the sky
when nightfall comes,
though even these may never be enough.
But let us use this day, and all to come,
to see.
#lover
358 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Feb 2020 12:45pm
6th Feb 2020 12:45pm
truth
I
wonder
if it’s true
that plunderings
of hearts, and sharp sun-
derings of self lead on
always to a soul renewed.
I think that those who say it’s so
have known a life of little pain, and
remain close sheltered from the aching world.
wonder
if it’s true
that plunderings
of hearts, and sharp sun-
derings of self lead on
always to a soul renewed.
I think that those who say it’s so
have known a life of little pain, and
remain close sheltered from the aching world.
#sadness
394 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Feb 2020 8:52pm
5th Feb 2020 8:52pm
Longing
You are the shape of sleep,
moon sung,
sky voiced,
star graced,
and I a threadbare wanderer,
night lost,
in need of you.
moon sung,
sky voiced,
star graced,
and I a threadbare wanderer,
night lost,
in need of you.
#separation
483 reads
11 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Feb 2020 1:45pm
5th Feb 2020 1:45pm
Your Name
Your name
will not be voiced by me today,
an anniversary of sorts.
I will not let my tongue
evoke its panoply.
Your name
will not be mouthed by me
from dawn
to dusk
and I’ll not let it touch my thoughts,
or fill my dreams,
now husks,
from darkened sun to morning’s rim;
the lust of it, your name,
that sin upon my lips,
caressing me,
all sere this dunning year,
if spoken out,
will do me in.
will not be voiced by me today,
an anniversary of sorts.
I will not let my tongue
evoke its panoply.
Your name
will not be mouthed by me
from dawn
to dusk
and I’ll not let it touch my thoughts,
or fill my dreams,
now husks,
from darkened sun to morning’s rim;
the lust of it, your name,
that sin upon my lips,
caressing me,
all sere this dunning year,
if spoken out,
will do me in.
#lust
423 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Feb 2020 5:14pm
4th Feb 2020 5:14pm
Grey Wing
A grey wing beats and numbs the day
and hollow indecision drapes itself unbidden
all along my limbs,
like bleaking fog seeped over Autumned paths,
a caul that's smothering my breath.
My hours that should be joyed with work
are dulled and trail away before my eyes
like lulled, stooped shouldered men
paced aimless, shuffling,
slow along their way.
No livening's left to me now;
in sway on everything's a chill,
a lowering, a winter's pall.
She is not here.
She's distanced all.
and hollow indecision drapes itself unbidden
all along my limbs,
like bleaking fog seeped over Autumned paths,
a caul that's smothering my breath.
My hours that should be joyed with work
are dulled and trail away before my eyes
like lulled, stooped shouldered men
paced aimless, shuffling,
slow along their way.
No livening's left to me now;
in sway on everything's a chill,
a lowering, a winter's pall.
She is not here.
She's distanced all.
#heartbroken
426 reads
8 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
4th Feb 2020 4:07pm
4th Feb 2020 4:07pm
Quit Telling Me that Heaven Is My Home
You say it is my destiny,
if I show “faith”,
to end up as essentially a ghost
that stays for all eternity
within an otherworldly ghosty place
sans all the flesh
that stands now as
the sign and seat of my identity.
But isn’t this a lie?
For after all, it’s something that
quite fundamentally denies
the import of the proclamation that
the I Am said
when he created in fixed form
the earth
to be man’s dwelling and his home;
that it, and not
some disincarnate realm
beyond the...
if I show “faith”,
to end up as essentially a ghost
that stays for all eternity
within an otherworldly ghosty place
sans all the flesh
that stands now as
the sign and seat of my identity.
But isn’t this a lie?
For after all, it’s something that
quite fundamentally denies
the import of the proclamation that
the I Am said
when he created in fixed form
the earth
to be man’s dwelling and his home;
that it, and not
some disincarnate realm
beyond the...
#spiritual
323 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by Baldwin
