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 Mar 2014 Brynn
Conor O'Leary
Remind the river
the puddle and the spring lake
what water tastes like.
 Mar 2014 Brynn
Alisha
I was a single grain of coffee
floating in the porcelain mug
that was your heart
 Mar 2014 Brynn
Sahil Suri
Before I begin, allow me to explain,
I too loved.. once,
so think of me not as some cynic-
nor as a master in the ways of love-
but rather as a keen observer-
now, that may mean I have nothing to offer you-
no insider knowledge-
no secrets of love-

But I do  know how to tell a true love story -

Interested?
Fantastic-
So let’s begin,

True love, if there is such a thing at all,
is like the thread that makes the cloth
you can’t tease it out-
you can’t extract meaning-
without ending up deeper in the web-
and it always remains-
hidden under layers -

In the end, that’s all you can really say about any
True love story-
They don’t generalize-
They don’t analyze-
They arent found-
They just… happen.

and that’s what makes them “true.”

But what is this coveted “love” -
the emotion?-
the act?-
the mentality?-

Love, is a constant state of illusionment-

A collective agreement amongst humans-
that it, whatever it may be,  can be treated as an excuse
for recklessness, irrationality, and misplaced strife-  

A quid pro quo  between two individuals-
to agree that they are doing something-
anything-
other than mindlessly drudging through life-

Now that is not to say that what love creates is pointless-
I said before, I have felt the embrace of love
Love festers between individuals for so long
it has no option-
but to mould the physical to itself-
and alter our personalities-

Characterized by spontaneity-
by indulgence-
by risk-
to love is the most dangerous experience in existence-
the act of being fully vulnerable with another-
while promising not to hurt them the same-

Love is characterized by vulnerability-
and the constant fear of being hurt-

So you want to know how to write a true love story?
be honest-
dwell not on the “romantic” blindfolds that keep us irrationally seeking our partners-
dwell not on the on the memories of a love that blossomed-
reveal the core of love -

A true love story comes from gut instinct-
A true love story, comes from experience.
A true love story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe

So I said I loved once,
allow me to elaborate-

I too have felt the “butterfly stomach”
- where the insides of the lovestruck turn on their host and manifests the emotional significance of meeting “the one”

I too have spent the day daydreaming...
-Lost in the thought of “the one”, seeking brief breaks from reality in my mind between moments of  utter normalcy

I too have melted into a puddle of emotion….
-lying next to “the one” as we slowly spill more and more of the secrets that bound us as individuals, joining a spirit much larger than ourselves-

I too have felt... invincible-
-to know that I’ve found something more significant than myself. Something that replaces the fear of the future.. and makes it something to look forward to.

Yes, I too have fallen in love.
and I did just that-
I fell.





..And that is my true love story-
Edit: Thank you everyone. It has meant a lot.
 Feb 2014 Brynn
David
Silence has opened it's mouth,
I unfold before it,
Strands come undone,
The story of a man gets swallowed,
The strength of my youth falls with the wind,
A veil takes the stars from me
 Feb 2014 Brynn
The amateur poet
Do I love him or let him go?
Only time will let me know


Leave and start anew
Or make what we share burn passionately once more

My biggest mistake
Or greatest discovery?
I'm not happy anymore

I'm not sure what to do

Please hold me close
Drown out my thoughts with your love
Make me curious and spark my interests
I want to feel like a princess once more
 Feb 2014 Brynn
The amateur poet
Let the rain clean my skin
Wash away the thoughts of yesterday
Make me new

The sun rises slowly
And sleep takes me away
A clock without a battery
I'm broken

You cannot tell the heart what to do
But acting without feeling is a sin in itself
Tell me what to do
Wash my skin
Make me new again

Tears burn the cuts of yesterday
And glide over the bruises you don't see
Relight our fire
Help me fix this

Thunder rolls
There's no escaping this storm
Let tomorrow bring sunshine
Wipe yesterday away

Please
 Nov 2013 Brynn
The amateur poet
Running, running, faster, faster, harder, farther, pushing my limits
The rush of adrenaline floods my veins
Pushing me farther, faster
Making the cold air burn my face.
The closest thing I have to taking flight,
My dream

My dream that has been in the works for eight years now
Now, almost ready to be put into motion
A motion that must be completed once its started
And I've finally started to break away.

Jump, leap, reach for the sky.
My wings are ready,
And so am I.

Smooth, sleek, powerful in design
Just waiting for a spark
The allowance to fly.

Golden tipped feathers, all perfectly aligned
Tone wings from practice
Just waiting for a sign.

Planning, preparing my wonderful escape
Many years of planning, making sure of no mistakes.
The situation thought through
Run, leap, and fly.
It sounds so simple, but that is far from the truth.

Riding on this moment,
Every anxious hour spent crying in pain,
Just waiting to see the world from a freer point of view.

Failure leads to more waiting, and that just won't do.
The first try must work,
I'll make it to the clouds,
Just watch me.
The world will be mine.

The moon, the clouds, tired, sleep deprived joy.
The sights of the world I've only heard of before
Before I saw it rush under me below.
The music of the world
Singing the opening to it's show.
The wind in my ears, fire in my blood
I can only dream of what it will be like flying so close to the sun.

690 days until I can take flight.
690 days of planning it right.
It can soon be mine,
I will be free!
But until then
I fly at night,
with my love
but only in dreams.
 Nov 2013 Brynn
wandabitch
photogenic smiles and true to the few
we take the flashing light and run with it.
pinned up in time and backed up hard drives
remember us when were gone.

repressed and tied too this one life
always reaching for visibility
to give a life worth feeling
in a single frame.

what every second means to the hand
holding moments temporal.
hold, laugh, smile.

camera cued and magic fuse
superstitious  and wild,
hung with glowing eyes.
 Nov 2013 Brynn
Conor O'Leary
When I was sixteen sun-dazed and shining
I dove feet first into
the Pacific,

and was swallowed like a pill.

The water boasted cobalt skin
but under her hips
black was the prominent chemical color.

Before I hit the toes
of the archipelago
there was that moment of war:
a violent waltz of water and air
clashing to push me out

then to bring me
down.

there was only ocean.
the warm Pacific palm
clutching me like a marble.

The soles of her feet were sandy
and her hair was full of islands.

Her tongue was bright with summer-
her heart- full of salt.

And she let me pass through her like an apparition
my smoke drifting around her ankles
in billowing dust

My body an afterthought,
collapsed by shadows-
my eyes were left staring into the wild sapphire Earth.
 Oct 2013 Brynn
Damaré M
I got the blues like James cotton and the crew

The blues in my hands
Like the crew and James c.o.t.t.o.n

Not like k.r.a.f.t
More like zatarains r.i.c.e
...A lonely mans meal
The blues
For crying out loud my ol lady left me
Every 5 minutes for 9 minutes
I cry without tears coming down my eyes
So no need for a bucket
My cheeks are dry
I cry through my trumpet
My cheeks are cramping
I cry so often and so long
The way in which my feet tap you can't tell that it's a sad song

I thought I would've Lost harmony when Monica left
But my harmonica explains the exchange of breaths going through my chest

Yet, blues explains my mood
On stage with my dudes
Audience in-tune with my news

The blues
I got the blues
Can you relate?
Did she escape?

No wonder why you're rapping and sagging
Bluffing and bragging
And your not huffing; puffing , and nagging
To get a case of the blues the love between the two once upon a time had to be true

I got the blues
And it's hard and complicated
I am strung like the guitar
...Observation!
There's no contemplation
Nor hesitation
I abandon my mentals
And create instrumentals
I got the blues
And to prove I have the bruise
Heartache and headaches
Allow me to groove
The blues, skies, teals, turquoises
No lies, tears nor voices

Real blues like fats, Percy , Ruth, king, archibald "stack-a-lee", hank Williams "nobody's lonesome for me"

The blues
My aching trombones
Drug free, but my bass is laced
I let my fingers rake
The blues
She don't know what she had
Hope that I can put down my flask
when I move on to jazz
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