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 Dec 2016
Nigel Finn
Nothing exists except atoms and space,
And everything else is opinion,
Yet we can't determine the time of their place,
And relative distance between 'em.

If I could understand,
With a wave of my hand,
All that is, and what lies in between,
I probably wouldn't,
For fear that I couldn't
Unsee what what I might think obscene.

What if, for example,
I could indeed sample
All knowledge there is to be known?
Would I be enlightened,
Or possibly frightened?
Depressed once all mystery's gone?

If nothing exists except atoms and space,
And if everything else is opinion,
Then surely opinion's mankind's saving grace;
The source of the beauty within 'em
I'm stealing another quote outright in this one. This time I've borrowed "Nothing exists except atoms and space, and everything else is opinion." from Democritus, or rather from the person who translated Democritus if you want to get technical.

To say my grasp of physics is almost non-existent would be an understatement, but I know just enough to know this may offend a few physicists out there.
 Dec 2016
phil roberts
With his head in his hands
And his heart on his sleeve
He closes his eyes against the light of day
And against his quiet despair
He pretends it is not real

But part of him knows
Deep down amongst half-remembered dreams
Emotions that appear from nowhere
And linger
Every cell of him knows

He knows a loss without closure
A conversation without words
Dreams without endings
And hoping without hope

He hears a knock on the door
But no-one walks in
He puts his head in his hands
And his heart on his sleeve
He pretends it is not real

                                           By Phil Roberts
Was formerly "Hidden Truth"
 Dec 2016
Gabriel burnS
I found a new way
of being misunderstood
all the while
looking for the opposite;
arriving at the shores
of the wrong land,
so my discoverers
and your natives
immediately went to war;
thus worlds collide
at the hands of words
 Dec 2016
phil roberts
Subtle changes in the night
Now the stars are not so bright
And the moon declines to shine
The way it used to do

Where once I felt warmth
Now I feel only emptiness
Emanating towards me
And I believe that I'm past caring

And in the face of negligence
A heart merely becomes feral
With the loveless it is gone
Needing nothing and wanting none
It is gone
Far gone

                         By Phil Roberts
 Dec 2016
phil roberts
I am accompanied by ghosts
Haunted by broken hearts
And useless regrets
Loss of the living is almost worse
Than the loss of life
But it happens
And now
Without the optimism of hope or love
Life tires of me and I of it
Ah, but alas
I cannot die
Because heaven will not take me
And daddy says I cannot go back home
To Hell

                   By Phil Roberts
 Dec 2016
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!!
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