1977 IVY LEAVES Anderson College Anderson, South Carolina Editor. Assistant Editor
Art Editor .. Business Manager .
Staff .
. .. Kathy Killian ... Cindy Beasley . ........... Millie Espieg . L ynne Russell
. ....... Kaye Boyd, Greg Davis, Pam Moore, Howard Holland
Advisor
.......... William F. Wesl Jr
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A Question "God" I asked. "Why do y u wa~re tim On those who revile Who refuse you Who worship you o Su da With hangovers, And live their ow es The rest of the we Why do you give good, To the unjust As well a:., the just? Why do you care For those whn Cdre nothing Came the answer Sadly, Yet almost a
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To look at death with a sense of birth, ... at a child's constant chatter as words of great worth. To look at black soil with the hope of bright blooms, . . . at winter's willow knowing spring will bloom soon. To look at pain with understanding deep, . . . at wisdom, a blessing that one must strive to keep. To look at what you have without wanting more, . . . at the impossible as a challenge, an open door. To learn to look at life, with all its splendor from above, is to learn to look at life through the eyes of love. Kathy S. Killian Artwork: Millie Espieg
Bleak, charcoal fingers reach toward an empty skySmothered by its vacant grayness. t
I stand by my rain-spotted window, gazing thoughtfully,
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Surrounded by warmth and candleglow, by laughter and friends. Why do I long for the bitterness and cold and misery? Pam Moore Photograph by: Greg Davis
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.,>·:;t\);1i~~T~~~~\~ . . . ·. · Reality. of my.li e,"..f,(';,: Your warmth, Melted all my fears. You are Springtime, I have grown. You are Autumn, I have changed. And because o(
Surrounded by the black loneliness of night. but not lost in it. Resplendently casting rays of hope, of guidance, of beauty. Flickering sometimes
The Mistake We walked into the twilight. A million dazzling stars encompassed us. That brightest one, we decided, was our star. As lime passed, we found A blemish in th~ purity of love.
a; though they· may fade out, yet shining always, sustained by nature's supernatural force. So are the stars . . . So we must be . . . . Kathy S. Killian
I WO!ldered why, and finally decided: . We were looking at different stars. Dennis T. Matthews Artwork: Millie Espieg
Artwork
by: Millie Espieg
Through the forest dark One can see the light up ahead. Treading on, trying to find that light, There are many thorns, many trees have fallen across the path. The journey comes to a halt for a short time. A fire is kindled, the fire dies. Again the light shows through the tree tops. The journey is still hard, but the light grows brighter. Milton Hickman Photograph by: Terry Lowe
The night is still and quiet yet, It's where the moon and stars are met. The birds are sleeping, time for rest; All is silent toward the west The crickets hum; they keep good watch; Another day has left its notch. A cool wind blows; it stirs my thoughts; I know this night which God has wrought Will soon be coming to a close; But where it leaves us, no one knows.
Tears fall. Bitter, angry, and hot Tears of self pity Alone. And the TV blares on. My friends Far away or near Promises forgotten. Time creates distances No one can cross. Janet Swartz Photograph by: Mr W F West Jr.
I was like the wind strong and free . I was like the ocean tranquil and deep. Now I'm like the wounded at the hunter's feet. Muff LeRoy
' My Frazzled Old Sweater The sun dropped early behind the old farmhouse . The breeze picked up and I wrapped my frazzled old sweater around my shoulders. Soon, the chilly, breezy days of spring would be hot summer scorchers And the long days would stretch into the night. I'd wait for that longest day, I said, · I'd wait and see just how long it was. ·I worked and laughed, I sang and danced, And occasionally sat down to see if it had come yet, -But it hadn't, so I worked har,!e-, laughed louder, and sang and danced into the night.
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i just saw a brown leaf float down from
the old oak by the barn. ., It's almost dark, and still early yet, and I just realized how short the days had goti.m, All of a sudden, you know, and once again ~ .,.~ . I gather my frazzled old sweater around ·•-~ my shoulders. • It won't last much longer, I think. Dennis T. Matthews Photograph by: Greg Davis
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Sweet airs that fan the Acacia take voice betime; A voice, ere soft, yet caught by certain ears, Moving padded feet to walk a new line, As it so has and will for many years. And Northern winds are known, at tjmes, to dress A fleet of clouds in suits of winter grey, To s~il against those feathered things with nests; But aye, they know 'tis best to leave them than to stay. And doldrums beat themselves upon lhe sea Until the sea a doleful message bears To ones whose time it is their birthplace see, 0 King, it's time for us to bave the heir. So I have heard a heavenly voice that calls, And I, in faith, will answer what'ere befalls. Howard Holland Artwork: Millie Espieg
The Gift Of God
Shimmers of rose and pink lie against a background of the loveliest blue illuminated with gold and hazy patches of red The sky at sunset The gift of God Deep blue-green waves crested with ripples of foam gently lash the shore carrying with them precious particles of pure white sand The ocean The gift of God The purple-blue mound rises in the distance covered with a massive population of towering pines, the green is intermittent with the gold, the orange and the red of turning leaves Autumn The gift of God Long, jagged tentacles of ice hang suspended below the billows of heavy grey-white clouds that hover over a radiant white world Snow The gift of God Tall slender blades of bright green grass mingled with the bright gold of buttercup a profusion of violets, and hazy puffs of dandelions, sway in a gentle breeze Spring The gift of God A few weekly hours, a tithe, a warm gesture of kindness, a smile Me My gift to God. Janet Swartz Photograph by: Terry W. Lowe
Co n trib uting S ta ff Greg Davis Ellen Drury Millie Esp1eg Ruddy Goulet Milton Hickman Howard Holland Kathy Killian Muff LeRoy Terry Lowe
Dennis Mauhews Pam Moore
Bill Parker Marywiley Price Janet Swartz William F West, Jr. (cover photograph)
Instead of accepting the ideas used in past years, the staff
challenged
Through just
the
traditional
this venture we
another
magazine,
collection of talent.
form
of the
Ivy
Leaves.
hope that we have created not but
a
relative
and
meaningful