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Eraser, eraser
There for mistakes.

Eraser..

Erase her?

Yes!

Erase her, erase her
Right off the page.

She doesn't stay between the lines
And she doesn't need to stay!

Erase her, erase her
She never belonged anyway.

Eraser,
Erase her!

She's too colorful
For this world of grey.
I hate how words die in me and other days they fly in me.

Wings flapping against my heart,
Trying to flutter out of my mouth
as they take off from my tongue.

Right now, there is just an empty room
With feathers on the floor
and nests waiting for eggs to hatch.

What do I do to get it all back?

Where do I find the warmth for these eggs
and how do I nourish the nestlings long enough
to teach them to fly
like I did once before?
Some days there is an ache
That ripples through my soul like an echo in an empty cave.
Where it started, I'll never know
But it seems endless on my empty days.
 Dec 2016 Brother Jimmy
SE Reimer
(a tribute; if mere words could be enough)

~

the life of this River,
'tis an unending stream;
is an unpublished book,
its current fast at flood;
a flow that washes clean,
all the gathered debris;
its words like diamonds,
sparkling neath its lapping
waters at its river bank;
a sound refreshing,
hushes the rush in my mind,
calling to my soul.
where does the river go at night,
and whence flows its waters
when hidden, out of sight?
its flow is eternal to the sea;
a place of waters gathering,
of floods heaping,
of reflection's seeking,
where still waters lie,
where the hand of friendship
holds and lifts all who venture
to its depth where feet
can touch no longer
the point where most
would flounder
become a place of calm
of peaceable retreat without
and deep within
a flow of tears for thee!

~

post script.

a heart on sleeve composure,
for he who knows the River best!
who's breath is water deep,...
who's heart beat its very current!

added 12-13-16
my dearest HP friends, i want to thank you for this Daily and for your generous words, though i cannot truly claim this credit for my own.  those of you who have walked these halls with me for a few years will read between the lines and will know precisely for whom this tribute is written.  he is become to me one of a small handful of poetry mentors and it was a moment of great appreciation for his artistic talent that inspired these words... words that tumbled from this pen as a rush, and in mere minutes.  such is he, that he inspired this spill of words; a flood that i would not claim for my own.  to he who knows, thank you, my friend... this River... these and this belongs to you!!
He skims the haze of the day
like a cat seeking its food
prowling lane alleyway
to find you in bitter mood.

On your door the unwelcome guest
you would not call him to stay
with him time is a waste
he would better be shooed away.

You hate when he starts to speak
his sunburned face is a bore
must cut him short pretty quick
behind him close the door.

Like you are nine of ten
but he knows his job is done
is rewarded all his pain
if he can charm just one.

The one that ears lends
a carer who knows well
how it greatly depends
a family on one sale.
 Dec 2016 Brother Jimmy
nivek
what kind of death will find you?
where is your end?
your discarded dust may well seed a new star
but your spirit no one can tell you
when or where it may go
 Dec 2016 Brother Jimmy
nivek
there are days of groaning
days of joy
each can be prayer
at a deeper level
that's all there is.
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