In no way am I trying
to intrude, jeopardize,
or interrupt your life
Before farewell my friend
or a final goodbye
I need you to know
there will be a guy
Waiting on stand-by
Dying to knight, shine,
and finally make things right

If you ever need me
No matter the reason
I will run full speed
and be there immediately
the next guy better appreciate
Every breath you breathe
You should mean to him
Everything and more
than you mean to me

The two of you
should always stay true
Leave nothing to prove
Celebrate while winning
because it ***** when you lose
It's like smelling shhh
and the last place you look
is under your shoes
Just keep a tight grip
and let nothing elude

With that I'll say
Goodbye for now

Strip your clothes so gently.
Easy slowly so I can see.
With every touch you
reveal more skin.
My heart beats faster
as you set up a grin.
I want to see you naked.
To see all of you.
Without any protection.
Nothing wich you can hide
and can provide distraction.
Staring deep into your eyes.
They are mirror to your soul.
I want to see your vulnerability.
There is no need to hide it from me.
I love all of your flaws and secretly.
Stripped your thought so carefully.
Your beautiful mind so delicately.

Thank You HP for the gesture
and compliment of the Daily

To each of you,
I am grateful for
your eyes, your time
your words nourish, console
and encourage the aspiring writer in me

I am grateful for your thoughts
and heart in comments;
jewels encrusted in the mind
beats in my writer's heart

Your interpretation of my work
opens the world; your work inspires me, you inspire me

You are energy
you are a gift and I am humbled
to be in your company

A small silver moon
Glimpses and flickers through the swaying treetops
Shadows take me to one side
And whisper rumours in my ear
Thorns rip the skin
And draw blood
For the rumours are about me
Again

                    By Phil Roberts

A feather spirals down,
quill first,
making a silent point that needs no elaboration.
A parrot crackles,
in sunlit flight from shade to shade,
making another point that defies all argument.
Palms climb jubilant. Half-moon sinks...

A kingfisher stalls'n rolls into a blue bolt,
shoots into the pond'n shoots up, fleeing
a sprinkle of words
on water, holding
in its beak, flapping,
me!

I stopped believing my father when I was eight,
when he threw away his cigarettes and told me,
no more.
I stopped believing him when he got the last beer
out of the fridge and told me,
never again.