Page 8
The Lance
November 2,1939
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The Fly
Yep, I killed him
He was sitting on n\y bed
So I killed him
Ehdn't even look 'em in the eye
As murder etiquette requires
it was a quick death by Ywain
Didn't serve any purpose anyway
What purpose have you and I?
Susan B. Yeaman
Mists Enshroud This Etching;
Tangled cords
Captured on Blue Qouds
Floating tingling-timeless
Untouched
By pity's grasp;
No footprints to-and-fro
Shaking quaking
Restless Fire consumes
Red
Synonymous effigies that
Tango in union;
Forgetfulness
Crashes another cymbal
Only to be drowned
By a slowing
Smouldering
Rhythm
Invisibly echoing
Throughout eternity.
Alexis Kronenwetter
The Scars on my hands
Are not the scars of my father's
I hope someday I can achieve
the Beauty
Which must now texture his soul
Grade Henuner
The Storm
I thought about our future
And what it might behold.
But the wound still bled
From the scar that's grown old.
How 1 wish that these changes
Could have kept us from the storm
That causes the heart to harden
But longs to still be warm.
Clouds cover my ability...
My ability to see.
They form in shapes of memories
Of how it used to be...
Clouds of smiles and of tenderness
That reach both high and low...
One tear chases another
Into the fathoms of the heart below.
So I think about the future.
Yet I linger in the past.
The distance that you keep
Makes the present hard to grasp..
It leaves me with a bad taste
Sometimes tart or bittersweet.
It's time to press onward
And forget this burning mem'ry.
Michelle Rogers
1st exercise
early morning fire
lighting a ceremony
of days we measure
our lives like lines
in the exposed flesh
of the wood green turn
ing Brown, the embers
moving toward ashes we go
on smoking the air
it is a good burning
Pam Whitfield
Be Careful, Eric
Be careful, Eric
as I trip down the steps
Be careful, Eric
as I spill a glass of water
Be careful, Eric
as I drop a book,
mistime a step,
stutter in my speech
Be careful, Eric
cries a crescendo of choruses
circling my head
as I try to be careful
all I hear is:
Be careful, Eric.
My Neighbor is Next Door
I hear your footsteps at my window
But I argue that my life is still young.
Would you like a cup of tea?
I am brewing a pot.
Obviously the journey was a long one
Your constant panting
^d the sweat dripping off your brow tells of your adventure
1 heard the world stopped for a while.
Did you feel it shake?
Or was that the child playing with its rattle
You're silent...l sing
We are alone, I am alone
The wind moans and you are gone.
The water has just started to boil.
Chad Esposito