Tuesday, May 1, 1984 NOVICE How can you expect me To put things on paper Things I do not know? You speak of similes, metaphors, and how a pen can think! I guess I’m just too slow. but how I study and try to learn, I stay up late and how I yearn, To write like poets that surround me; And to please Mr. Chamlee. Should my sentences rhyme At the end of every line? should i write like e.e. cummings and use no punctuation I’m so CONFUSED at what to do! Maybe a new pattern I’ll try and set. Or maybe I’ll just end with a rhymed couplet. But even if it’s the best I could. I’m sure I’ll hear from Doc Wood: (Who has taught me 104), “What did you put that comma for?” Diana Howard PpiiiiSi mmm The Clarion Literary Sup plement is the product of the Creative Writing Class, English 207, Mr. Ken Chamlee, instructor. Special thanks to Cherl Harrison and .fane Roberts. mrnm rnmmti Drawing by Jamie Tucker PHOTO There was a picture In my psychology text Of Sigmund Freud and his dog. The caption underneath read: “Sigmund Freud and his dog.” Old Sigmund has a bunch of glass trinkets on his desk And thick black spectacles on his face. There are shelves full of statues and books Behind and about his graying countenance. He stares blankly at his dog. It is a solemn photo. His dog stands on a Persian rug And blankly examines the camera. It has a wet, black muzzle And dark, drooping eyes Which are lumps of coal set back into its furry face. It looks forlorn — like some kind of huskydog Who should be out pulling a sled in the Yukon, But, instead, is harnassed by Sigmund’s rug, posing for an I cut the picture out of the book And hung it on my wall. Now Sigmund stares at the dog And the Dog stares at me. A picture is worth a thousand words. experiment. SIMON (Son of the Rock) I sit and listen, never hearing why This God you know would be so harsh and cruel Pronounce his judgement, reigning from the sky. And pour my shameless blood into your pool. Why would he make it evil just to feel The beating of another’s heart with mine To know the passion Adam felt is real To feast upon the eldest of his wine? Conclusions come, I know I know the truth Your bleeding heart can never drown my own Your tear-filled childhood days might earn my ruth But loveless nights would freeze me to the bone! Though I’m no saint, grieve not my loss; Find someone else to bear your cross. Andy Valli Bill Greene

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