I wish I didn’t miss you—
not like this,
not in the quiet where your silence screams.
I wish I moved on like you did,
graceful,
as if love never lived here.

You don’t miss me—not like I miss you.
You don’t crave me in the hollow hours,
don’t check if I breathed you in my dreams.
You’ve unlearned the rhythm of us,
while I still hum it in the dark.

I feel stuck,
my heart in rewind
while yours skipped forward
like we never happened.

You don’t call anymore.
I know.
We’re not one.
Not us.
Not now.

But I still call.
Still text.
Still ache.

And maybe what hurts the most
isn’t losing you—
but how fast
you chose
to forget me.

I want to experience friendship,
Not just one sided friendship —
A two way Loving friendship.

I yearn for a moment in life ,
Where I would not have to prove my worth—
Just to be loved.

I'm tired of reaching out,
Check-in all the time,
Fixing doors I didn't break,
Closing all loopholes,
I need a break .

I crave warmth and comfort,
From just one soul,
That would root for me ,
Just as I would

There are reasons why
some men are shy.
and women too,
when wearing silk,
lie on their beds
alone and cry.
No mother's milk
to satisfy
the cruel thirst
for love and touch.
The rule first
is to beware,
when wearing silk,
of men who stare
or fingers touch;
this much we know.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Tell me truly who you are,
not from afar, but to my ear.
Do not fear:  I shall not castigate,
excoriate. Dissemble not:  No
equivocation. prevarication.
Tell me truly what's in your heart.
Is terror there, or guilt? Rage ablaze
from needs unmet? Do unhealed hurts
leave you reeling in a maelstrom of
doubt? Open up your heart
and let your agonies fly out.
In gentle ways let us discuss
worth of self. Let light
penetrate hate, mollify madness,
assuage pain. Let your forthcoming,
my love for your realness,
heal us both.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Have you seen
"THE ELEPHANT MAN"?
It's about you and me.
In varying ways,
both of us
are he and the
kind doctor who
sees him as
a human being.
The freaks are
those rulers,
those dictators,
who treat human beings
like garbage, or worse.
I, for one, feel his heart.
It matters not
what he looks like.
What matters is
that he loves his
real self and you.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

I believe I have reached a point
of creative decline. Been on HP
since 2013. Close to 350 poems.
I may have thought and said
about all I have to offer.

Hard to come up with any real
original worthy material, the
old well might have run dry.
Or maybe my brain is growing
addled. That happens in our 80s.

In idle times I will still look in
on you all. I have enjoyed my
time here and made some fine
and talented writer and poet
friends. Thank you.

Adieu good and gentle people.

With Israel’s decapitation strike on Tehran’s nuclear infrastructure, the Middle East power balance has been violently redrawn. Iran reels from assassination, bombardment, and psychological defeat. Yet one final move remains on its board: blocking the Strait of Hormuz.

This narrow waterway moves a fifth of the world’s oil. Iran doesn’t need to close it permanently — sporadic harassment and mine warfare can create economic shockwaves. Missile batteries, fast-boat swarms, drone strikes, or selective targeting of flagged ships could ***** insurers and markets alike.

The global response would be fierce — U.S. and Gulf navies would move rapidly, oil prices could spike to $150, and fragile supply chains would splinter. Nonaligned powers would scramble to secure their energy interests while pleading for restraint.

Yet the motivation for Iran’s next move may not be logic — it may be survival. Rage, not reason, rules the streets of Tehran. If the regime cannot retaliate meaningfully, it loses face, influence, and control. That’s why the Hormuz threat — the nuclear option short of nukes — must be taken seriously.


M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ

Dear Father
I’m alone in a very scary place
And I’m not certain how I got here.
I lost sight of the footprints I was following
And wandered off the pathway you laid out for me.

The wind is cold and the sky is dark.
I just heard screeches from the nearby woods
And this path ends in only brambles.
Kneeling on the rocky ground
I beseech the Lord to rescue me.
He either doesn’t hear my cry
Or this is where I need to be
To learn to never take my eyes
Away from the light that guides me.
ljm