An Anthology

Poems Included:

Libertad
Quixotic
Wild-Type
Bare Bronze
An Adaptation of John Mosefield’s “Sea-Fever”
The Strings
Beautiful Adversary
Primitive Elegant
Nature of Love
Marathon Reflection
On Shores of Amygdala
She Doesn’t Wear a Jacket
September 11th: Birthday
Sapphire 30
A poem, sans title
Science Writers We, Virginia and Me
Make Yourself
Love2LiveLearn
Innocence for Wisdom
Dare 2 Speak
Goodnight
Sangria Night
Two Wild
Gettysburg College Commencement 2005
Fusion






--Libertad

More freedom swims in the fastest mile
Than floats in the longest year.
When minds confine bold wings and choice
I find my free will here:

On gravel roads and ocean sands
And mountain paths long lost.
Recall do I my strength and voice;
This memory’s free of cost—

Unless you count the June sweat
And the muscles screaming slow.
And the out-of-breath and
Up-the-hill that lets you know you know

just

who

you are.

.MGW.



--Quixotic

Quixotic mind and starry-eye,
Idealistic will, romantic sigh;
Propose your color,
amber-gold,
Propose it to the morn.


Buoyant pulse, inventive tongue,
Naïve voice, refined and young;
Cast your shade,
a glowing pink,
Cast it to the noon.


Idyllic step, and tranquil soul,
Fiery heart, design meek-bold;
Let fly your hue,
a riotous red,
Let fly it in the night.


Churn cool stars and fuel hot flames,
Incite visions, enter games.
Don this blush,
a dappled burst,
Don it all your days.

.MGW.



--Wild-Type

“Wild-type,” she told him.
He didn’t understand.
He poured the wine and smiled at her
And reached out for her hand.

Her hand was tan and sun-kissed
From running on the beach.
Her skin was cool and lovely,
From sailing on dusk sea.

“The classic form of something,
As in nature it occurs.”
He laughed a bit and clamped his hand
Much harder upon hers.

“You know, like horses racing?
Or breezes full of hawk?
Like dancing in the thunder, or
Scaling steepest rock?”

The hawks he knew had cell phones;
His breezes were fast cars,
And when the thunder bellowed,
Inside, he watched the stars.

“Wild-type,” she told him.
“Come WITH me, see it real.”
The night was navy-blue and crickets
Clicked like roulette wheels.

A field is where she took him.
Orange lilies lay in wait.
An owl or two observed the pair;
A shadow watched their date.

“Dance with me?” she asked him.
“A wild-eyed, graceful waltz?”
He quipped: “No music have we.
How to keep the pulse?”

“The music’s in the moonlight.
Its metronome’s ideal!
The orchestra is whisper-led;
The dancefloor is grass-teal.”

He hesitated briefly,
And then he took her waist.
They danced in fields to rhythms
Wild-type, and perfect paced.

.MGW.



--Bare Bronze

Bare bronze shoulder.
Dress bright white.
Breezy brown hair.
Night so right…

Night so right for
Fire-fly kisses,
Sand dune smiles,
And high-tide wishes.

Bare bronze shoulder.
Eyes bright blue.
Easy laughter.
Me and you…

Me and you and
Moonlight swimming
Long, light talks
And slow, deep listening.

Bare bronze shoulders.
Hearts bright thrilled.
Summer joined and
Souls fulfilled.

.MGW.


--An adaptation of John Mosefield's "Sea-Fever"

I must go down to the seas again
For the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and clear call
That may not be denied.

I’ll sail down to the seas again
To that wild-hearted life
To the whale’s way and the gull’s way
Where the wind’s a whetted knife.

And I’ll wear summer stars in evening eyes
Drink sea breezes with lime
And cherish every sun-kissed step
Of a wave-licked summertime.

.MGW.


--The Strings

The strings that stretch between our minds comprise my own string theory:
The world is made of souls and saints and visions to love dearly,
But while I give and receive hues from those I know and knew,
The symmetry of boldest shade is often strung to you.

It’s not something I can explain, nor do I know its source.
I know it thrills me day to day and keeps me on high course.
It keeps your image in my mind; your words in its recessess,
And every whisp and whim of you it in my mind impresses.

You encompass spans of space, though you are not near.
You exert a force on me when miles split our sphere.
I am charged electric at the thought that someday soon
A rendezvous of time yours-mine will rest us 'neath one moon.

As quantum strings have tension, much like regular strings of twine,
I feel it's fundamental to the strings' path, yours to mine.
String theory is in larval stage, unable to be tested,
Just as I believe that our best strings will have yet to be bested
!

.MGW.



--Beautiful Adversary

If it can beat me, I will win.
And that means you win, too.
It must beat us both and well
For me to dance with you.

It must faster push my pulse
Than it's been pushed before.
Must race me fast in evening dark;
My loss will make me sure.

And when it leaves me trembling-hot
Near wind-blown field or sea
I'll shudder-smile in moonlight rays;
I'll know it's meant to be.

Poise of one who speeds my heart
To paces beyond norm
Is soul I'll share my heart with now-
In thrill of heartbeat storm.

.MGW.



--Prmitive Elegant

Primitive-elegant.
Exists such a glow?
One wild as wolf tracks,
One gentle as snow…

Can the same swift steps that race ‘neath the moon
Waltz, graceful-light, to the violin’s tune?
Does snow-pearl skin, unaccustomed to earth
Blaze like skin bronzed after riverside mirth?

And how do they join,
Fair-mannered & fierce?
Can such distinct spirits
Share one gorgeous sphere?...

So that when coalesced,
They’d sing songs of merge,
With lines painting Venice,
but still praising birds.

On pine-lined paths I forge crystal dreams;
My pulse pushes fast at silk-sand-woven seams.
I’ll race you, bear-lightning.
I’ll pace you, harp-song.
Primitve elegant?
It’s here lived,
all along.

.MGW.



--Nature of Love

First the stars in the skies
Fell into our eyes,
and twinkled in wide iris pools.

Then the grass on the ground
Laughed in wind, pulled us down
And we rolled in its fingers like fools.

When the sea’s salt-sweet breeze
Hid and sought near our knees
You took my hand, pulled me to waves.

And as tides rushed o’er us
I fast learned to trust
Night-capped deep that encircled our blaze.

Oh, lightning and flame
Would be dull, would be tame!
Compared to the fire we spark…

When we roll on the floor
In the grass by the shore…
And let skip-a-beats light up the dark.


.MGW.



--Marathon Relfection

Post-Marathon, I reflect!

[ Baltimore Marathon
Completed 10.15.05
3hrs, 53min, 10sec
115th/886 Females ]


Soon, ohhh soooo soon, I am going to craft a lucious exposé on distance running.

For running is rich.

It is
pain
pride
endorphins
vision
you me
him her
doubt
assurance
courage
summit

fast faster
live longer
love-you-in-the-shower-later

relief challenge
mind body
soul sweat
race pace
hours minutes
wild steady
ancient present
city trail
sun wind
solo team
hills highs
hearts muscles.
Running is beautiful.

.MGW.



--On Shores of Amygdala

Amygdala – a fine hotel
On Dopamine’s high coast.
All guests who come return again,
But pairs return the most.

Receptionist, she greets the guests,
Releasing to each pair
A garden key, a telling hint:
“Blooms oxytocin there.”

Amygdala – a fine hotel,
On shores of highest height.
Below its cliffs the waves do kiss,
And hearts swell, all the night.

.MGW.


--She Doesn’t Wear a Jacket

Drugs lace their lingo.
Sex swims on their lips.
Smoke coats their convo;
She laughs at darted quips.

Crack bridges barriers
And booze opens doors.
Powder pushes pulses;
Inhibition hits the floor.

Inhibition is the jacket
That she rarely ever wears.
It doesn’t let her move enough.
Its color doesn’t dare.

And it’s autumn in the city,
Her steps are rushing-free.
She doesn’t don that jacket.
She’s asked: how can this be?

"My drug is in the sun’s shot.
My sex is in the grass.
That fog that coats my memory
Too shimmers on lake-glass."

You ask her if she’s crazy.
You query of her joy.
You seek to sweet-corrupt her.
You’re carved of natural boy.

She answers you with wind-words
Racing on the breeze...
She answers you with eyes-wide:
“I love life. This is me.”

.MGW.



--September 11th: Birthday

September eleven years ago,
And I had just turned twelve.
September 11th: birthday morn.
Cake waiting on the shelf.

Friends & cards & bows abound;
Kodak moments many,
Laughter licks the candle wicks.
I live a day of plenty…

September 11th: wake me now.
Gifts hold less allure.
It takes the cake 2 not take
4 granted,
as be4.

2 remember and 2 relish
In knowing that I can
Stride free, work hard, laugh lovingly
& live my master plan.

2 remember we inhabit
Land unaccustomed 2
Terror tumbling towers.
It’s not something we knew…

We may not have nightly worried
If our fathers came home late…
I may not have been too grateful
For all richness, on my plate.

September 11th: birthday.
Celebratory. True.
September: sweet America.
I'm glad 2 salute you.

.MGW.



--Sapphire 30

Hello, September,
And I remember-
Your natural highs, my butterflies,
Summer-end starts, two beautiful eyes…

Once more September!
2 our surprise.
How swiftly summer 4 autumn vies,
As wet-gold sun leaves leafs gold-dry.

& Some of the boldest gold still lies

in memory,
Within.

Embrace us, sapphire-thirty.

.MGW.



--A poem, sans title


Inject your dreams with energy
Clasp them in your mind;
Don’t let the daily ground state
Absorb them, in its grind.

Not everything can stand out.
In fact, much must stand in.
The moves that make us human
Are often dull and dim.

But fire fuels the interim;
It blazes under flesh…
Though some days it may smolder,
And these are days that mesh.

Yet meshing days march steadily
To meet the days that glow,
Yes, these -The days that burn us-
These are days we know.

We know them by the risk-rush
They scatter on our skin.
We feel them in the fame we claim,
When we craft, stand out, or win.

And b4 we’ve known them long enough
To pace their bold-fast race,
The highest times, they flee us,
Leaving slow ones, in their place.

Perhaps slow days are vital tho,
Like catching breath and air.
Maybe time’s a state of mind;
State excited’s always there.

Inject your dreams with energy;
And on the slow-burn days,
Process them incessantly.
Your interim will blaze.

Yes, set your “I will’s” higher still,
No matter interim’s base.
Intent arms your ability.
Just right flows your life’s pace.

.MGW.



--Science Writers We, Virginia & Me

There's a pulse and it's live and it's different,
And I sense that it beats in us both.
We know what intrigues us: cold science-
And warmly we write of its growth...
Its growth and its place in this vast world!
This earth of a spin science-spun,
Where daily technology marches
Under watch of the moon and the sun.
This moon and that sun, they are beauteous.
Their rays bring new light to dark times
Just as our vibrant words will embrace this-
This science that unites mankind.

.MGW.




--Make Yourself

In your element, you can be
as fierce and as fast as your will can see.

You
can

push your heart to burst,
endure keen pain, ignore plain thirst,

surge through trials,
and sweat through hills,

embracing heat,
imbibing chills

To make yourself
As diamond-hard
As any king
On any card.

This is your hand--
Why would you play
Like other winners of today?
If they are special,
So are you-
If special all,
Is any true?

The only way that you should sleep
Is knowing that your talent’s deep,
And deeply-worked
And longly-saught
And carved in ways
Others are not.

The greatest thing that you can do
is carve a unique, fiercesome you.
So carve, my friend, and I’ll stand by,
encourage with a loving eye…
And you can know, behind the scenes,
I’m loving carving unique-me.

.MGW.




--Love2LiveLearn

2 i's in a "vision";
They belong to the word.
2 eyes on a vision...
They belong 2 me!
and to this
Infinite energy,
This zealous intent,
That's riding the crests of our youths,
Splendid-spent!

Mmm, let us learn, and
Oh! let us grow.
4 there's so much 2 love,
And wavelengths 2 know.

.MGW.



--Innocence for Wisdom

Hawks in her arteries,
Eagles in her eyes…
All her life
They’ve stretched their wings
And lead to swift surprise.

And though they’ve done this boldy,
Catching others’ sight,
They’ve not yet
Done it wildly,
Nor flown aggressive flight.

But now their pulse is quickened.
Their blood beats colder, too.
They’ve learned to soar
With shielded hearts;
Winds changed in knowing you.

.MGW.




--Dare 2 speak

And I ensure
That others content
2 endure
The dim of dismal timid more
Will secret-silently implore
For yet a sparkling waves-worth more
Of the vibrant starlit shore
That is your radiant spirit,
That does 4ever soar!

.MGW.



--Goodnight

Suddenly in summer steps when I was wild-walking,
Free as foam on wave crests,
Not looking and not knowing,
A new sun… !
It crested hills of forethought, warming sweet-cooled notions
Speckling me with light that I’d thought set,
In calmer oceans.

This sun, it burned a liking burn!
With playful rays of blink,
And extensions of such mention
Behind bright bronzing wink…

Though I was slow to notice, Yes.
Wrapped in beams of winter-spring.

And this sun,
it seeks to roll in grass!
To tumble, sing, and play.
It’s warmed me on the tennis court;
It’s kissed me, end of day.
Alive its light makes other steps!
Giving color, taking chill…
Where-how-why did it arrive right here?
I’ll ask it, yes I will.
For
No, I did not just now know,
In this wild-walking June
How simple-fast a face of sun
Could shoot me to the moon.

Goodnight!That moon amazes me
But for the sun I sleep.
4 this aura-sphere of lively-hot
That’s summer-sprung on me.

.MGW.



--Sangria Night

on cobble streets
in spanish heat
two sets of feet went walking

and stopped
in shade of Giralda
so lips could halt their talking

to sip the red and deep and dark
the night flavor, sangria!
a nectar of the old-world Spain…

Long live summer-Sevilla!

.MGW.



--Two Wild

Grace,
manifest in the midnight,
Seals stares of ravens who spot
Slits between your skin and my skin
Recede as the cold night turns hot.

Strength,
evident in the morning,
Feeds hunt of hungered who sense
Muscle and sinew in man flesh
Exposed at companion’s expense.


Poise,
visible in the daylight,
Locks stance of hunters who know
That union of two wild creatures
Shall never shatter by bow.


Light,
obvious still in sundown,
Lingers on watering pools
And fires the innermost lining
Of twilight’s most auspicious fools.

.MGW.



--Gettysburg College Commencement 2005
~to my classmates

Gettysburg, you're looking good.
Your caps, your gowns, your smiles,
This sparkle you give off today...
It's going to take you miles.

It's exponential, your potential.
Could not graph it on Excel.
The input range would shoot the moon;
The output- hard to tell.

You've lived 4 years of orange and blue
They've tempted your mind's palette.
Now you're striding off to paint the world.
And shape it with your mallet.

Shall we take a moment here in May
To envision what you'll do?
A ragin' sea of possibility!
Hold on, I beg of you-

You may start slowly... you might race!
Take the time you need.
Not many days will grace the clock
Before you find your speed.

Your skills are many, Gettysburg.
Take a speedy stock.
The liberal arts have laced you well,
From economist to jock.

Yes, CEO is quite your color.
Film director fits you, too.
You could operate in every state.
Design condos in Peru.

Stitched with versatility
You think critically and long.
But you're also quite adept at
Javascript and improv song.

So when you start, wherever you are,
In an office, on a track.
You'll be armed with all the talents
That a Gburg degree packs.

And other souls may get caught up
In that nine to five-ish thing.
But you will "do great work" each day;
You'll make those moments sing!

And when the boss does fret and shout,
"This company needs vision!
Our motto hasn't changed in years-
Our ideas lack precision."

You'll be on top of this endeavor
And stroll up to his door-
"Ideas you've got?" the boss will say.
Why, I've got twenty-four.

Meanwhile the names of co-workers
Will all be ones you know.
You'll greet your fellow office mates
Like Esther at servo.

One day one May you might say, Hey!
I think I'll go explore.
You'll hop a plane to Ireland;
Bike 'round an Irish moor.

And on the trail you'll pass some kids
Fighting with their tent;
You'll fix that thing up with finesse;
Your GRAB days were well-spent.

On British Air, as you jet home,
You'll make a new connection.
The Frenchman in the next seat down
Is off to a convention...

He's in the business your in.
He asks you for your card.
That French you studied in McKnight
Made that far from hard.

And suddenly the pilot
Announces from the front
"This plane has turned around about!
We've hit a violent front."

Several hours after hearing this,
Your plane lands in Dubai.
Your non-western had you dreaming this
While others start to cry.

And if you've not already,
One noon you might be strolling
And catch a glimpse of him! (or her!)
Your heart will set to rolling.

Love will prove a wild spark~
For it is equal art and game.
Marriage may be in your cards;
Solo flight may light your flame.

And when your son plays Shakespeare
And needs medieval garments
Costume-design skills are at hand.
Thank you, liberal arts requirements!

From Natural Light to Crystal Light,
Your beverage tastes may alter.
But memories of spring fest days
Will never ever falter.

So sweet years will dance from one to next
And one day you'll be eighty,
Sitting on your favorite swing
With your favorite man or lady...

You've just returned from swing dance class.
It's time to feed the yak.
Your 9 iron needs polishing.
But you stop... and ponder back...

Through four scores of life lived so full
You could not have fit more in.
A cool peace overwhelms you now,
From your toes up to your chin.

It was 2005 when you set sail, alive
Liberated by liberal arts.
You persisted in creativity
Through a million ends & starts...
* * *
Yes, today's start is a special one.
Let's step up to the line...
The gun's been fired, Gettysburg.
It is our time to shine.



--Fusion

Metal cold-
Behold.
Precision in this place,
Of acid and fire,
Where you lift higher
Every element’s possibility-
Where you synthesize
Products from particles
That otherwise rest alone.
What’s the greatest thing you’ll ever learn?

Chemistry-
Chance it.
You pour solutions into cylinders
And your eyes light up.
Your passion is fashioned in proteins.
Pleasure is knowing their properties.
Promise is in their potential.
You will not break the promise to yourself
To conquer knowledge new.
Dedicated you,
Seeking delta for the world.
Beautiful.

And in the midst,
Would you nanosecond-venture
A new experiment?
Would you risk?
And pour your solution
Out of you, into flesh?
Would you chance the burn
That could accompany
What some might call the sweetest periodic fire?

You ask "how to measure
one’s
love against finding the cure for cancer, which would permit
millions
to experience
this love."
There is no balance to weigh my answer, but

Could love not be a
catalyst
in the reaction that is your noble pursuit of novel chemistry?

Could not embracing its emotion awaken you further and
activate
pathways of thought, otherways blocked & dead?

Or do u see love as simple distraction, preventing great reactions
From dancing in your head?

Warning:
Love’s equation is variable-ridden.
There is no control.
The solution’s hidden.
It is physical, it is organic-
Dare to chance a chem romantic?

No, it’s not perfect.
And there is no proof.
Though it is proven
That one must
Improvise, compromise, fling safety glass from cautious eyes…
Stakes are high. This is true;
Love might combust, unless you trust
The bluest flames, embrace their pulse,
Let them hurl you high & inspire
You.
Perspire in Kelvin you never knew…

And Oh! To feel what the Hydrogen knows
When it dances and basks in the Oxygen’s glow;
Unquenchable sigma.
Perhaps that which is greater than this
Is less than life’s discovered.
Would you risk to bond?

But wait, scientist -
you risk everyday…Yes.

So, perhaps the truth spun down is resolute solute:
My elements do not have the
Perfection you’d require
To kindle such life fire.
And perhaps you theorize
A chemistry of little size
To be yielded in mixing of “Me” + “U”.
May be true.

And I could accept this notion of null, I could.
For chemistry is not to be forced. It is natural-beautiful in its spontaneity.
I’d agree,
For I feel its radiance within me! Its entropy…
And existing in an excited state,
I seek simply to wholly radiate
This electric-shine-mine before considering to combine
In a thunderbolt compound.

And, thus, I could comprehend your precipitations
Of desires
for thunder of another color,
for electricity not found in “Me”,
But easily innate in an isotope of “Her”.
Sure.
Reactions flow this way.

And again, the monatomic state
Might be the wavelength
you appreciate.
This, too, can glow an oh-so-great!
Okay.

But sometimes I think deeper, too, and conjecture otherwise, I do.
It is the method scientific;
Let me be a bit specific-
My hypothesis ensuing?
You might be closed,
unsure, or just afraid
to expose
your beta sheets to my alpha particles…

So that I can’t help but speculate
What reaction could precipitate,
If two orbitals of beating heart
Were prevented from pulsing apart.

I wonder if you then would find
The warmest fusion of all time.

& I wonder if
this
could help you change the world…

.MGW.







Mas viene!