Dreams in Ink – Marcia Isakson ’92

I paint a picture with my pen,
I’ve never chanced to hold.
With black and white, I colors blend,
Grass’ green and new dawn’s gold.

For stroke of pen is stroke of hand,
Gentle on my face.
Where you and I alone we stand,
A quiet, special place.

You hold me tight and down we fall,
A tumble dressed in white.
Just you and I and that is all,
Nothing’s wrong or right.’

And when my colors too gray seem,
I chance to dream of these.
My pen can make these colors gleam,
My heart again believes.

A Tear – Sean Cleveland ’92

begins in the eye of a bewildered child
cold and wet,
traveling down the pale, soft skin of youth,
gaining momentum gently
as it lovingly caresses
the anger of adolescence,
trickling and sliding
down
the tan, leathery and hard skin
of one who knows better,
drop-
ping
achingly to a chest
that heaves but slightly
as the tear absorbs completely
into the flannel-covered breast
of manhood.

Victory – Pete Travis ’92

The great captain, his eyes aflame,
wiped gritty battle-sweat from his brow.

Red-rimmed eyes gazed long
upon a landscape of broken corpses,
stretching far into the horizon.

Gaping red wounds, split skulls, snapped sinews
dried slowly as daylight fled in horror,
and ghastly grins smiled blindly upward
at an unkind sun.

Great flocks of carrion birds
screamed at each other across the dusk
and prepared to feast
as the captain turned a war-weary charger towards home.

Later that night,
the cleaned and newly shaven commander
spanked his little boy
for shooting a robin with his slingshot.

Warmonger? – Charles Poche ’91

War, the banner read,
is harmful to flowers
and other living things.
I knew those other things–
I watched them grow and saw them cut down
as the shells blossomed on the battlefield.
Yes, I knew those other things-
I called them friends.
Fuck your flowers.

Visions – Hannah Leadbetter ’08

Staring out my window, I see
The huge chunky pieces of snow
Glisten-gliding their way to the
Ground several floors below me.
I am mesmerized
Not by brilliance of the tiny
Faceted, diamond-like pieces of ice that
Snow truly is
Not by the soft patterns and paths
god send it from heaven to earth on,
Whispering mysteries into our ears as it passes
I am mesmerized because I do
Not see my reflection in the window as
I look at the black-silk sky and
White-pearl snow flakes.
I see an image of you and I laughing
As snow collects in your eyelashes and
In my hair.

On the Vigil – Chelsea Wright

A sea of white that stands and stares
The shots that pierce the still night air
The moon won’t shine, as if to say,
“I’ll hide my light, now, while you pray.”
Silently, we dare to tread,
In company with recent dead.
The ghosts of old come visit too,
And tell us this is nothing new.
From Lexington, to sandy plains,
The call of war shall cry again.
Cadets will come and honor more,
What has been honored years before.
And as I stand here reverently,
I hope future cadets will do this for me.

The Fourth at Buckner – Peter Schlatter ’13

A distant boom massages the belly of the young evening sky
Across the lake laughter paddles toward me
Homey wiffs of burgers and brats flit through the humid air
Smiling lips alight upon the faces of the youngest
Even the most grizzled find the feeling to grin
Contagious independence has uncaged their fettered hearts
Free for one day to relax
Their joy will erupt at the booming brilliance of the firework display
It will bound onto the tables of the barbecue
Dancing freely all night around the hungry tongues of the bon-fire
But on this bank the grey-men play fun
Entertained by the Hypnotist they fall asleep
Eating family-style rubber dogs and wooden beef
Making s’mores in the embers of the campfire
Their hearts locked away in a cage of granite stone
Their smiles are of those who don’t know any better
Those who do know better smile anyways
So I sit, here by the water, watching,
As the world grows greyer around me
The distant booms match time with the fireflies
My own fireworks display,
A smile is etched little by little over my face

On-going Cadence in my Head… – Mike Gorman ’12

Left.
Left in the heat to further train.
Left the life of the ordinary.
Right now, I lie alone, in the prone, scanning my sector wondering why I
Left her.

Left my friends at the campfire, drinking through the night.
Left an empty seat at my parents’ dinner table.
Left my brothers and sister without a moral exemplar of how to live
Right.
Left her.

Left my first-born child’s infancy—her most impressionable days.
Left behind the life I dreamed: to teach my children to play catch, or ride a bike; to love, to truly live; to show them how to walk like a God; how to defend the helpless; teach them honesty and honor; teach them how to read and
Write. I
Left her alone.

Left it all.
Left them all.
Left them when they needed me and now I can never make it
Right.
Left.

Telemachus – Gabriel Stehle Kornegay ’14

Years gone by since we first met,
Ticking away – our time is set.
I am forcing through myself an uncountable debt –
To the spirit surrounding me.

Give to me abstractions where mere ink will not suffice.
Give to me your wisdom – give to me your life.

Let me consume you, as in the days of old,
And bear your soul onward, into the endless fold.

If the mist hearkens to my cry for release –
Then my words will find you, they will give you peace.

But if you fly before me
Into that place of story –
I promise you my best.
I promise you my glory.

West Point Wonders – Charlie Wu ’16

Most people wonder who they will marry.
Some say they were meant to be together.
They’re concerned for someone they never met;
Responsible for being at their best.

But we spend four years wondering one thing.
Will we be ready, when we step in front?
They had fought hard, while we wondered here.
Our unit is who we’re married to,

That’s the difference between them and us.
An unthinkable occupation? No