OCTOBER 16, 1970
Tom Parks
S PRAYER
id all in quiet in the minds of the dying sun.
Dicar and bursting with stars
artered with its tips pointing towards Mars,
je is pierced by the quivering lips of a
on bended knees
d together and her reddened eyes staring
lvens reflect a plea.
> every wordly ear.
lien it ascends to the heavens clear,
nitted from Jesus Christ the Son
loving, yes, the Omnipotent One.
and lovingly,
sinner it may be
understood there, it is what God would
ayer.
Iks for strength to live this day and tomorrow,
toward "him" and bear her sorrow,
e world will not take note
d and tossed from the once unsinkahle
he one she loves there will be given that
• sent only from God Above.
*ht s so that in his confused world
;nd happiness and a decision untwirled
trends of this earth today,
his heart must lay
glow as the morning sun
tsinking till life is done,
of the prayer,
e happy past years and for the future
>r giving "him" to me
atlde.d and made me very happy
ire my image eaiiuot be seen
ve him and will never look on him as
jn as a gilt from above,
landing and his love
len, the young woman ends h*r pleas
d rises from her Knees
;*d pulls the covering apart
ove rather than pain has filled her heart.
iil \\ instoii
THE GUILFORDIAN
THE ARTIST
—ln grateful recollection of Evangeline, Raun MeKinnon, &
Diane Wakoski—
Long hair that trembles with the rythmn
of a soul reaching out;
Sharing what we both know
in new images of understanding.
Through music, through words,
through music and words
The artist's spirit and the spirits of the worl
past and present,
Caress, surround, fill my soul
And leave it a little brighter and fuller.
SPRING SONG
Today is no day or social protest—
The sun is dripping honey on the world
Save dissent for the beat of rain,
Flowers are the banners to be unfurled.
I'm on vacation as a malcontent—
I'll generate some cynicism tomorrow.
Now I'm generatin' sundrenched bones,
And I've turned my mind off to sorrow.
I'm lazy today, and quite sentimental.
Haven't read between the lines today.
I don't think respite will be detrimental,
I'm taking off the blinders and going my way
Clare Glore
[♦ *( N
' 77 ' ij
Tom Parks
Karen Marshall
CAMPAIGN
DOLDRUMS
The consecration of a conservative.
The litany of the liberal,
Cries out; ASSIMILATES
Across the land.
The camera candor—isn't.
But fear not, my children.
The "off' button is in the upper right-hand corner.
And I'll tell you this,
From the bottom of my heart.
It's a farce.
Clare Glore
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