Summer days and heatwaves
Sweat pouring down our skin
Working hard no time to rest
From the time the day begins.

Bailing hay without a shade
Not a single cloud insight
Gathering all the barely corn
We work until the night.

we have a little hideaway
A place down in the vale
Its where we drink some scrumpy
Along with beer and ale.

We while away  an hour or more
Depending on how we feel
We rest and take it easy
No sound from the tractors wheel.

Now tomorrow is another day
Our work load it will keep
We may be striming hedge grows
Or we may be shearing sheep.

But we really are not bothered
We've been farmers far too long
We carry out our dutys
And sometimes with a song.

Our lives are hard but simple
We are living the country life
Away from the city and the fumes
From cars and such alike.

You see we have this hideaway
A little place down in the vale
So come along and join us
At the end of a farmers day

Half its contents stashed away
Or shipped to another state,
Primped, perfumed and prettied up
It no longer reflects who lives here.

It no longer echoes happiness
Or tries to hide despair.
It’s just another pretty face
Looking for a suitor.

It promises hope for someone new
Who will hang the walls with their own joy
And shed their sorrows in the garden
Beside the bubbling fountain.

It will be the gate to a neighborhood
And an enclave of belonging.
It offers safety from the storm
And the ravages of the city.

It’s up for bids beyond the price
To see who wants it most
Or has the deepest pockets.
With preference to those who’ll love it.

The house is open for the world to see
And guess about the owners,
Crying softly somewhere else
As they prepare, unwillingly,

To kiss a beloved home goodbye
And strike out for a new beginning
In someone else’s home, now theirs,
In hopes of finding Shangri-La
In the new world of Nevada.
ljm

Only fire can be born from a spark, nothing else.

It is impossible to keep fire not burning.

You cannot warm yourself near volcano and feel serene.

You cannot touch the sun, you can just only watch it.

Even if you love the sun, you must love it humanly, not like a moth. That is the main difference of a deeper, conscious and pure love.

No human loves suffering or wants to live in it. If one does and wants, he is something new, but anyway, not a human.

And if the one is not a human, he cannot be purer than he was before.

Pure thing is humanity. Humanity is always serene and as calm as shallow, mild water to swim in.

Being humane is the highest state of being.

Anything surpasses it with suffers, pain and fire, either can turn you to inhuman being or to ashes.

There is no humanity beyond suffering. Even if it is the suffering of the deepest love. You have to come back.

In any case and circumstances, pure love must not hurt, pure love cannot degrade, pure love has no ability to set a fire.

Sorry for burning your hands, my dear
Sorry for all hurts I gave

Be attentive about the genesis of your inner impromptu and inspiration, my dear poet brethren...