An ode seems appropriate
To the classical style
Of the columns and the domes
Above the green court.

Many things have adorned that dome:
Squad car, fire truck, droid, and phone
But today, viewed in a mind's eye—sunlight.

But as were that phone booth still apparent
From afar it now calls, and now I shall answer.
Over the river, and through the urban jungle,
Through the sky, 400 miles, as the airliner flies
But worth every inch, rod, meter or smoot.
It beckons to the mind and to the heart;
It beckons to the soul of a scholar.

Were I less knowing I might think not
That light fell from above onto that dome.
But rather, that the hemisphere
Gave forth the blazing light
ebullience of photons, amidst
Torrents of knowledge.

Its hallowed halls, numbered precisely,
Soon no longer a forbidden temple shall be
Instead, I shall tread there, such as I am
Learn from efforts I effect and others I see

O Halls, I shall greet thee, O Tunnels in winter
Traverse and find warmth to keep body to task
For knowledge, always, comes with a high price
In joules, dollars, cents, days and hours of rest
Long nights turn to dawns, nose to the grindstone
Maybe just one more tool; okay, maybe another.

But brother meets brother, and sister meets sister
On both sides of the river, and the work gets done.
Whether Greek or not, there is community here
A problem, or a set of them, is always seen through.

As the sun now rises, a new day sets in. In a few
hours of my life I will rise to these challenges.

With a chirping, I shall cross the paths that I come to,
Enter the halls .. and my journey shall begin.

~ D. B. Guy

A morning dew sits on my dearest rose:
A shadow of evening's coolness stands still.
How gleeful I'd be to remove that chill—
That accursed blight, I yearn to dispose.
Not in my powers, no warmth from me flows
Not matter the measure of my goodwill.
Only the sunrise this quest shall fulfill
And light, my dear efflorescence expose

Always that morning seems ever unsure,
Yet surely it comes as the world still turns.
Finite be the hours my rose must endure;
Nothing this must be allowed to obscure!
For surely as in the sky our sol burns,
Warmth still exists for my rose to make pure.

                                 ~ D.B. Guy (1990 - )

Day begins 1, 2, and 3
There is no us just you and me
How I wish so much to see
A day in life where there is we

I am alone
That’s how I stay
All alone
From day to day

Your with him
Then with him
Not “look at her”
“Look at them”

You are happy
As am I
But when you cry
He dries your eyes

I’m alone
That’s what they see
There is no them
There is he

Then a change
You did not see
Them becomes
Her and he

All is changed
But any rate
You’re not sad
You are great

On the outside this they see
On the inside your heart isn’t free
When did this “like” become L-O-V-E
I know you and this I see

Sands of time pass the glass
And your heart's wounds forget the past
All this time I was “he”
And then you see that you
And I could be “we”

-Anonymous

(Donald Guy 2003. Signed Anon. at time of writing)

At this point
Love is a game
Of doubt, of hope,
Of joy, of pain

Yet something is
I can’t explain
What draws us back
Into the same

To have, to want
To hold, to see
A life in which
All joy is free

A simple yearning
To be together
For better, for worse
For pain, for pleasure

And even though
Our time goes fast
If it doesn’t start
It can not last

And so you feel
What can’t be told
A feeling felt
By young and old
That can’t be taught
That can’t be sold
But you can’t win it
When you fold


So we back fall into
The same
Drawn back from hurt
Into the game


-Donald Guy
2004

The sun rose
A gentle breeze
A final thaw
From a long freeze

A day of warmth
A day of life
A final stop from the strife

A day too good
To be true
A day where hope
Shown anew

The sun rose
A gentle breeze
War was over
There was peace.

--Donald Guy
   2004