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