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Louise Aug 2022
My body is a tropical island
Full of wonders, views are grand
A spectacle of various rare terrains,
overwhelming for the unadventurous
and exhausting for the meager brains.
My body boasts of all the different
exotic textures and new colors,
something your waiting eyes
must be ready to marvel at.
My body takes pride in its
mountain-like curves;
not exactly the perfect shapes
but awe-inspiring, like a painting.
Something your anticipating hands
has to feel thrilled to touch.
However, my body is also known
for its extraordinary yet abrupt movements;
scary for most and sensual for some.
Like earthquakes and typhoons,
you'll never know when the rhythms come.
Something your foreign familiarity
would either be thrilled or petrified about.
So I welcome you to this island of mine,
leave your worries back to the shores,
clear your soul and free your mind.
Leave you exhilarated and in monsoon,
my rainforest flora forever in bloom.
Come... if you dare...
Joseph Sep 2019
I catch myself pondering,
Time and time again,
To what draws me here,
When others refrain,

'There's nothing there', they say,
'No money, No future'
Yet for me to live anywhere else,
Would seem like torture,

Waking to the sounds of the hens,
Each morning without fail,
Watching the boats in the harbour,
Before they set sail,

The silhouette of a coconut tree,
Against a magenta sunset,
Living on these enchanted islands,
Is something I could never regret,

For if I am dreaming,
Wake me, I request you do not,
For each moment spent here,
Is truly a gift, never forgot.
What the head says makes sense, however it's the heart which I've found never leads you astray.
sweet tree
raised from
tropical
earth

to grow upright
and out
to sprout
from trunk
a bunch of
pink and
pointed pods

or perhaps
crimson or
yellow
aubergine
tangerine
green

scythed clean
from host
and hacked
in two
for getting at
seeds a-pulp
in white
and slimed

and spreading
them out under
the sun
to get hot
in their own
juices

to ferment
wild

to bake
dry

poured tinkling
by the
thousands into
sacks of hessian
for sending
‘cross seas

to furnace-cracked
futures
winnied and
conched
sweetened
melted
and hardened
into shapes
of other things


© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield
Cacao trees are spectacularly beautiful. They love the humid, mountainous air near the equator, and the regular washings of rain.

Nestled in the understory of bigger forest trees, they sprout these colourful, magical pods out of their trunks and drape them over with big, shady leaves. It’s truly other-worldly.

Only fitting for the most magical food on earth!

And the intricate process of coaxing their bitter seeds into luxurious chocolate is a great marvel of modern industrialism. From harvesting, fermenting and drying the beans to roasting, conching, sweetening and tempering, chocolate has become a true labor of love.
When ever I touch the ground that’s hot
With the sole of my foot that’s bare,
I never fail to recall a time,
And the memories lingering there,
Of a day when I was just a boy,
Beneath equatorial skies,
And the tactic used to keep me indoors
While the missionaries rested their eyes.

My mother was sick with malaria
The curse of the tropic zone,
And while my dad was away on the hunt
Their station became our home.
And after lunch when the sky was hot
And the morning’s work was done
They took my shoes away from me
To keep me out of the sun.

The veranda air was still as a grave,
Not a sound to could be heard outside
Save the click-click-click from the beetles
And the grasshoppers jumping to hide.
Or the scratching scaly slither,
Of a snake on the flowerbed verge,
Or the distant cry of the crested crane,
These are the sounds that merge.

The sight of the distant Koru hills
Shimmering in the haze
Beyond the frangipani trees
Return once more to my gaze,
And the prickly spiky Crown of Thorns
That lined the garden ways,
These are the sights that ribbon back
From my early Kenyan days.

The smell of the room was a mixture
Of scents on the garden air,
And creosote coming up through the floor
From the pilings under there,
And paraffin from the pressure lamps
Which hissed as they gave us light.
With the hint of oil of pyrethrum
Sprayed round the eves at night.

The step to my door should I venture
At noon was as hot as a stove,
The soil on the paths and driveway
Would burn if ever I strove.
And the thorns in the earth would pr ick me
As I cautiously picked my way through
To the shade of the frangipani tree,
From there I took in the view.

So, when ever I touch the ground that’s hot
With the sole of my foot that’s bare,
I never fail to recall a time,
And the memory lingering there,
Of a day when I was just a boy,
Where the images I find,
Set smells and sights and sounds of
Africa sizzling in my mind.

Redding, California July 4th 2005 temperature 105° Fahrenheit
As a boy I was raised in Kenya, and our first home was way up country in a place called Koru.  My father’s work took him away from home on extended hunting trips.  During one of these absences my mother had a bout of malaria, and we went to stay at a mission station run by the Röetikinen sisters. I believe they were Lutheran missionaries.  At mid-day when the day was hottest, they always rested, and they wanted us children to stay in our room and be still.  They confined us there by taking away our shoes.
Jawad Apr 2017
My dam broke with you for good
A river repressed for years
Now I have a massive flood
Sweeping away all the fears
My chest exploded with words
All emotions storming down
Watering all the burned lands
Inside the ditches and ponds
Heavens for guppies and barbs
My birds are finally home
Butterflies are living here
The red soil is dark brown now
Uakari, and brocket deers...
Aguaje and row cacao...
No more dust, but lots of rain
Washing away all the pain...
This tropical life is nice
Please, don’t build another dam
And cut off the water from
This marvellous paradise...
Love is tropical, hot and humid, full of life...
Paul Butters Jul 2015
Forests of coral adorn the rocky ocean floor,
Sheltered here in this sky-blue lagoon.
See the golden sand, shining through the still waters,
Fringed by plumes of palm.
The warming sun is smiling,
Flanked by fluffy white clouds.
Gulls are calling
Over the whispering sea.
A tropical paradise
Punctuated only
By impromptu showers.
Those colourful corals
Swarmed with teeming fish
Of every hue.
This is the place
To be.

Paul Butters
Inspired by The Maldives images.
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