Pick-up sticks and ashes
All that’s left behind
When hurricanes and forrest fire
Have done their deadly work.

Broken people searching  through
The rubble that is left
Of happy hours in former lives,
Hoping to find a keepsake

Something that will tie them to
The place they used to live
And give them strength to persevere
And somehow build a life again.
ljm

Time comes and goes with ease
Every living day is a renewed lease
There's no time to be sad and morose
Be happy as the hibiscus and rose.

In the glaring sun they beam
A day for them is a dream
What if it's their last sunray
Their life is fulfilled in a day.

Without complaint they think it a gift
The one chance to give you an uplift
Know well with the setting of sun
Their intended work will be done.

Why can't we be like a flower
To do only good within our power
Spreading happiness and joy all along
To be remembered as one sweet song.

Two decades and a year
I come back to Darjeeling.

The blaring horns
have snuffed out
the pines' whispers,

and the glorious hilltops
retreat beyond
the many hilltop hotels.

Richmond hill is rich
with structures
that have made men richer
and traders have ensured
Nature here has no future.

The once magnificent Mall
has grown so small
you wonder if it's there
you laid your soul bare
to the woman of your love.

Darjeeling,
once where
she rode a wild horse
I would never come back.

And I will have no remorse.

I walk on the sandy shoreline
feel the clear water and sand squish
between my toes
then recede back into the great lake
and off its surface surges a forceful  wind
that tickles the hair on my legs
and rushes up through my swim trunks
over private orbs giving me
a brief intimate encounter
with the dark blue magnificent body.

The gentle electric charge
travels up my torso and face to my brain
awakening it to a new sensation
forever imprinting the essence Eerie
within my consciousness
never to leave
but returning with intensity
in the warm folds
and arms of my lover.

Softly slips the moment
In the waning of the day,
When the tenderness reflected
Lets a sadness fade away.
As the setting sun throws highlights
To tall timbers on the ridge
And the burble of the brook
Running soft beneath the bridge.
Flocking starlings settle
To gently chortle in the eve,
Whilst the maiden herds the cattle
In for milking, I believe.
The countryside quiescent
A peacefulness descends,
With the falling shroud of darkness
My velvet daylight ends.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
24 January 2025

I am lucky.
I am luck.
I am loved.
I am love.

I am joy.
I am joyful.

I am laughter.
I love to laugh.

I am grateful.
I am Alive.
I am Dead.

I am blessed.
I am a blessing.

I am Enough.
I do Enough.
I give Enough.
I have Enough.

I love to dance,
I dance to live,
I live to love,
I love to bless,
I bless to laugh,
I laugh to love.

I am lucky for this Universe that I have been blessed with.

In the chill of the mist
we walk on the almost deserted way.

I have little to say
being filled with her beside me
and she breathes the wind in
as our lonely world spins.

Sometimes we touch as we walk
prompting her to look at me
with a veiled smile across her face
when the walk seems sweeter than happiness.

The date trees are brimming with juice, she says
the pots will be filled in no time, I affirm,
some farther and we will be there.

Something akin to love
brews with the nectar.