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The darkest fields, an interlude
to parallel sparkling, suspended
watching eye upon vermilion sky --
like a harbored god pretended.

Killing trees, roots eating deep,
my father mercilessly alluded:
branches high and branches wide
found the sky and intruded.
I need you
I need your hug
To comfort me
To calm me
I'd love to be close to you
I'd love to cuddle and smile again
I miss you so much my dear
I miss your warmth
This distance leaves me aching
This distance is so hard
But in the end I love you
And in the end your worth it.
 Oct 2013 Jay Bryant
how could i forget bout Love
even though i don't know this word u speak of
i feel it in my spirit
my weak core craves it
depraved of it
almost numb to it
but for some reason i know its real
my heart you steal
sealing it with
just a kiss is the deal
but I'm hungry for your stylo
write it in the middle
of the night
in the beginning of the morning
Ill make breakfast while True Love is snoring
 Jul 2013 Jay Bryant
Denise G
I'm consumed by my thoughts
And engulfed by your words
Spinning and spinning making me go insane.
But you are in love with your Jane
And I'm the one experiencing sharp pain.
 Mar 2013 Jay Bryant
this poem will be bitter,
the way i hate my tea to be.
it will be about all the ways i've let my father down and
    all the things they wish i was.
  it will be about every grade point i am away from perfect.
it will be about ******* my boyfriend in the backseat
it will be about drinking until i can barely walk
it will be about crying all my makeup off in a stranger's bathroom.
this poem will be bitter,
the way i hate my tea to be.
it will be about laughing over stupid ****
it will be about late-night confessions to my mother
it will be about my best friend and my favorite socks and my thousands of little things.
it will be about a boy who tastes like green tea and cigarettes.
it will be about all the things i don't ever say out loud and all the things i can't write down anymore because people find the things you write down and then you don't have anything for yourself.
  it will be about the time i made my stepmom cry
  it will be about the person i didn't think i'd be
  it will be about all the paintings i don't finish.
it will be the things i found out about my family at a too-young sort of age
it will be my three without-permission-piercings
it will be the poems (this one) that i'm afraid are too cliche
and it will be bitter,
the way i hate my tea to be.
 Mar 2013 Jay Bryant
John Hosack
What does it take for a poem to be great?
A riddle, A rhyme, without any mistakes?
Does it need words, those that are fancy?
Or simply bold words, not of a nancy.
Should it have humor or wisdom?
Written on rest or excessive ***?
For Hemmingway said “make sure to write drunk,”
Or to make it scary, get locked in a trunk.
I heard about some guy, who wrote on his head,
While rappers turn poems into righteous street cred.
It’s rumored that some poems were writ on a trip,
But not the kind with a map and travel tips.
Other great poets flirted with death
or were simply in love with their friend named beth;
some great poems came from hate and abuse
or about women whose pants were too loose.
Some poems inspired by breaking the law
or by an unforgettable ménage trios.
So many things could derive a great write,
But these extreme measures just don’t seem right.
Maybe all that is needed is a little emotion
So that one can avoid all that commotion,
and maybe what’s great is all a perspective,
And that it’s better to read without an objective.
Others want to "pop yo' *****"
I want to pop the lid that hides your inner thoughts
Want them to wash over me
I'm showering in your personality
The you that you barely know
Help you discover hidden coves
Dump your anchor overboard
You've landed on the shore of the person you wish to be
Tap your heels three times
Wish to be home
Open your eyes
You're on that same shore
Thinking you're alone
Until my hand lands on your shoulder
Let's discover this jungle
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