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IVY LEAVES
rC.
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i-y-.
1992-93 And e r Coll
A
r
l
s
o n
g
and
Literary
Magazine
*
''hi^^
i
Digitized by the Internet Archive in
2011 with funding from
Lyrasis IVIembers
and Sloan Foundation
http://www.archive.org/details/ivyleaves1993davi
I
^k
R emem ber Anonymous
^(|
remember my daddy very vaguely. They are memories of a tall, dark man who was always laughing. I
I
remember
the fragrant tobacco scent that clung to him, and
even today fourteen years I
think of him.
remember
I
whenever
later,
pass a tobacco shop
I
snow on
riding through the
shoulders, perched high above an icy wonderland.
dressing
up
pretty?"
sitting in his big,
would
I
I
was an ordinary
It
preschool and
my
my
milk for a snack
my
safe,
laugh and give
me
day, bright first
grade.
when we asked.
got to the
car,
almost
Mama
as
We
got home.
bedroom and we stood on daddy had been and had been
in a
killed.
not be coming back. following week.
was
in
had played on
my
chocolate
unaware that
were waiting for different.
and swung
his arms,
But
was crying. "What
Mama
is
we
it?"
tell us.
took us back into
the bed as she explained that
my my
wreck on the way home from Rock Hill She told us he was in heaven and would After that
remember
I
I
big a teaser as daddy.
"What's wrong?" They wouldn't
When we
first
both laughing, delighted because we loved
He was
our Uncle Terry.
I
afternoon nap, drank
Uncle Terry ran up, scooped us into
We were
a big
my
to build
became aware of our day being
first
me
and sunny.
secure world was falling apart.
us around.
"Yeah, you look
say,
ordinary, everyday things,
all
our ride when we
My
and
look
I
the day he died.
brother was in
the see-saws, taken
"Do
easy chair.
his teaching
remember
I
grin
Then he would
remember
snowman. And
brown
He would
ask.
pretty, pretty ugly!"
bear hug.
remember
I
church and going into the living room where
for
he would be
his
remember touching Daddy's
man
warm and
vibrant
that gray
and dismal
I
don't
remember
a lot of the
the food and the people.
all
pale, cold body,
knew.
day,
I
And
where
it
I
nothing
remember
I
like the
the funeral,
poured rain
as if
God
himself were crying.
My daddy's
death affected
my
life
in
many
ways; like a
railroad track that branches off, different direction.
I
my
moved
never
Ufe switched onto a totally into the
sunny yellow and
white room with the canopied bed and flowered wallpaper
moved
the
new
my
granddaddy's house on Lake Secession.
Instead
parsonage.
daddy preach
again.
I
Instead
I
at
into a tiny trailer next to I
my
never heard
experienced a
series
of new
But those were
preachers at Bells United Methodist Church. surface changes.
The
big changes were inside.
I
clung to
and big brother, scared that they would leave became much shyer and close to
bye.
was a
I
someone
who would
safe, perfect paradise, it
life
I've
I
become too
for granted.
it
learned that you have to
and you have
too.
My life
but within two minutes on a dark,
was shattered. That quickly
Today
mother
leave without saying good-
was taught too early not to take
foggy night
love,
else
introverted, scared to
my me
was gone. risk,
you have
to allow people to get close to you.
to
You
have to take that chance on getting hurt. But you also have to tell
people
how you
feel,
and you have
short, precious time that
tomorrow
isn't
promised.
to
make
the most of the
you have with them, because
David Moo r e
Aw^AwCft
Amanda Huan gnes
The
roses
The
clouds part,
And
the sun glistens
On
bloom,
the silvery lake.
The dew drops on
the
Flowers sparkle in
The
light.
The day moves on and. The winds die down. The clouds turn rosy red, As the sun begins
The
to set.
night creeps up slowly,
So slowly
it
covers the day
In a blanket of darkness.
The
stars
twinkle and reflect
Off the gently flowing stream.
The moon
it
shines with a magnificent
Gleam,
And
burns
down on
Showing the
The
the
hills
grass the way.
^^
A c
1
llie
j\leinOry Ol
crickets chirp, the frogs croak
All in the
memory
fi
"|-x
of a day.
<ci
W^
J_/
<Bl
^
Anonymous
9K
Uld beginnings ^g
J
ane
I
^
Hagen I
have not tried
Although
I
my hand at poetry for some time,
have days
when words just naturally seem
to
rhyme.
my younger, more idealistic days of youth, often put my pen to paper to try to discover "truth."
In I
As years
rolled past, the search
seemed
less
urgent,
My life became decisions revolving around some new detergent! Kids, a job, a
Became
^Tke
my "truth" called responsibility!
Tkief
limolny ^nawn
home and "relationship compatibility,"
r
Âť
oore
Sharp and constantly roaming the corridors of my frame.
when asked to do so, sitting, lying down or raising
Refusing to cease even
Whether walking or It pays its unwanted visits. No apothecary or powder can abort it. Only it knows its origin and when it shall Yet it is my Alpha and Omega. When will my smiles become true?
When will I
I
laugh as
must reclaim
Please stop,
I
cease.
once did?
my stolen youth.
you damnable
thief,
before
I
stop you.
up.
A
Dying Molker
vk Uioice
s
Love w^
or
limolny ^nawn
oore
i
Driving through the angry
Whose Cause
signs of protest
self-hate.
Who am Who am (They
I
to
Choose?
I
to
make such
act as if
Yet this
I
won't allow
it
best
my mistake
all
the
little
That's
why I
And
will shortly see
No
its
mother has to bring
my baby suffering.
have dignity in death
"Jesus loves
I
a decision?
asked for this situation.)
suffer like
can't let
will
I
must be the
I
It
mob
have
made
children of the world," they sing. this decision
my child
matter what these signs
say.
in
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;out of
Heaven
love,
God's
love.
I
bought
on I
a
two
my smile at a dollar store for
wear the
one
first
sale day.
Monday, Wednesday,
and save the second (At night I
sold
I
take
it
my dreams
for the other days.
off and put at
Friday,
it
away.)
an auction;
the highest bidder got a deal.
Only she so I
it
was
traded
doesn't I
know
who made
I
thought our
but
it
the
my diamonds
he got pleasure and gifts
I
they won't
come
true,
steal.
for dust;
got pain.
were equal,
wasn't a fair exchange.
v
ÂĽT
^K
\J
11^^K
lltltlGCl
Marissa Lee vrlover
Karla rousek
Jeffrey
S.
Walk er
Rl uby
The painting on my
on
Early work of Mother's friend Really
Ike Wall
^^^^^^^^^"
JO o ouckner
kitchen wall
not Ruby, nor beautiful except to me,
is
But brings grateful memories, when she graced
Our home with smooth moves
An
1
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
tall
and easy
ordered house, her daily ^ dance.
Feasts of odors tease
Meat
loaf,
from the kitchen:
corn bread and greens,
Ginger cake with lemon topping. She made sauce from apples off our Peelings and cores
became
juice
and
tree
jelly
"Waste not, want not," her assurance. Greater than these pleasures I
treasure Ruby's calm confidence
With much
love and a keen switch
She taught our
first
Her example and advice She had reared
I
son to obey.
took to heart
my
a son,
mother, only me.
Ruby, a child when her mother dies
Had no But ironed
for
And
schooling past third grade.
"Step-grandmother"
each wrinkle earned a whipping.
Married young, she bore four babies
Then was widowed
at
twenty-three.
Alone, she cared for her children.
Three lived
to
make her proud.
She worked, depending on herself
And
He
gave her
her Lord to provide. joy,
strength and direction.
Her son earned
his college degree.
The painting spoke wisdom "Waste no time
Work
life
still,
me,
in self pity
out with prayer and praise."
Now my But
to
she's
teacher,
where
Ruby, now,
is
my
she's
friend,
is
gone,
needed.
on our
son's wall.
No Marker iSlieri
Vjreen
I sit
on
a straight-back chair, in the
middle oft he wide open,
surrounded by flowers.
There I
are
no people around me, and
yet there are quite a few.
have no concept of time, seconds melt into minutes and minutes drag on to hours.
The
sky above
The
stones surrounding
is
a
solemn one with a strange
me
tell
of love and
sort
loss;
of hue.
they read of
lifetimes past.
The
fresh dirt
Time seems so
I sit
beside
now
has no marker.
to pass so slowly now, but before, time escaped us
fast.
The world
in
my eyes
Uncovered earth
has
lies at
become much
my feet,
darker.
evidencing the bottomless
chasm ahead. Endless darkness lurks behind every vision
To
this solitary place
sorrow has been
my eyes
my guide
and
perceive.
my reverent
heart has lead.
Time
will
continue tomorrow, and
I
must make myself believe.
Behind
me
there
is
a disturbance of silence as feet are heard
shuffling through the clearing.
An
uneasy feeling overcomes
me and
Their hands strain to hold up
take a breath of cool
air.
my grief and my sorrow with
the
I
weight they are bearing.
At the
The
beautifully colored flowers
shuffling feet walk past
I
angrily stare.
me and
place
my grief and
sorrow
in a timeless hollow.
Through
my eyes shift to
the tears
They lower my enough and
see
my pain.
grief and sorrow into a grave that is
is
not wide
too shallow.
My hopes of the future were dreamed in vain.
The
grave
is
too small to hold
my happiness, my memories,
my many tears. my feet will
The
loose earth at
The
attractive casket carries
and laughter of many There
is still
no marker.
not
with
years.
it
fill
the emptiness.
into eternity
my smiles
and
The mobile
spins slowly overhead
just barely out
of reach.
Intricate parts
moving between each other bright reds pale pinks all
and
and
greens,
yellows,
interacting
without touching never connecting with each other.
People walk by just barely
me
out of reach.
Lonely souls
moving between each other fiery
tempers and jealous hearts,
sweet smiles and sunny dispositions, all
interacting
without touching never connecting with each other.
vkilnl- of
Mary
JNell
ri #^ÂŤ r
ll
â&#x20AC;˘
lysinger
Jerrrey
S.
Walker
!
1
Dav
i
J
Moo r e
I
don't
want
to be in class
listening to a boring teacher
drumming boring
repetitions into
my
brain by rote.
No.
I'd
rather be sitting in
a big oak tree
wondering how the sky got to be so blue.
I
don't
want
to be in class
doing complicated
Chemistry equations.
No.
I'd
rather be walking
down
an old country road
wondering how the
dirt got
to be so red.
I
don't
want
to be in class
studying odd-looking maps
of the solar system.
No.
I'd
rather be lying
on
a beach at night staring at the stars
and
wondering abut
m theuniverse
my place
^k
^ Vt
\iT
1
Wonderinq nonttering
Mary
JMell
^^ pt
lysinger
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
Jack-U-Lanlern ^B Margarel
Hayes JK
r>.
You're just
an old orange piece of
pumpkin
thrown out on the side of the road.
Once you a
deUght
sat in the farmer's field
to his eye.
He walked among
your neighbors
with eager hands and curious eye,
Watched you grow and shape your rounded form to be agreeable for another's eyes.
A
part of himself he yielded
when he
let
The
of his hands,
A
toil
you
go,
and
part of his heart
Now
soul.
they have thrown you out.
Crushed
in
two
large
broken pieces,
Squandered
Making food
mice and worms,
for
Adding substance
to leaves'
dark undergrowth.
Soon you Coins
A
will be
only a memory,
in the farmer's
hand,
fond delight of candle-shining
eyes
and mouth
who shaped you
to a childish heart so.
Becoming nourishment
to the
unseen heart of nature beating there
on
that quiet
hill.
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;
Sunday Morning V^Laura InorpeVK Surrounded by down
An
quilts
and
pillows, soft,
invitation rains against the roof.
Between wake and Place,
sleep,
my imagination
Some unknown
suspended
takes
me
Balanced in a
driving
Upon
I
Finding strange
in the engine's
hum,
I
the gentle purring of my cat.
Inree Haiku V^Laura InorpepK Baritone bullfrogs
Commence The
the dusk concerto;
crickets applaud.
Wispy white To
places
seed, fly
unknown
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;become
A dandelion. Sea-glazed child, the surf. Sparkling, dances at your feet,
Summer
swing
look past raindrops falling
a dark horizon.
Comfort
To
as
down
road of the mind. Chanting
A rhyme, my voice echoes the endless Of wipers,
dream
sings in
your
heart.
awake
Raging
fire as far as
the eye can see.
A block of ice quickly melting with Yet
it's
dark
—
what we seek
Listen.
my sorrow, beat. I
in these
Desire.
and you
and happiness
it's
dark
—
It's
real
and
now we
climaxes,
It's
feel this
the love, the lust It
unforgiving flames.
my chest
dread,
will find
in
I
it
—
yes,
it is
too
real.
both together, but it's all
in
one dull
and then
plateaus,
stir
with desperate
tried, the desire
The
one
hard to find your way.
it's
Warm water slowly freezing back to You
feel
I'm here and I'm waiting to proceed.
know,
So
okay since we can
that's
Touch
each wave.
beat
is
gone.
is
lost.
ice.
intensity.
no longer
On
beat.
fire,
there.
floating away.
-_->^
^H
J_y
G
S 1
f G
Craig v^rillendon
Jeffrey
S.
Wall er
Karla fousek
The end of life Seemingly so
is
as the
beginning.
different, they are starkly alike.
We await death as we await birth. Not knowing
We brace ourselves, The
moment.
the hour, the
anticipate, prepare.
darkest funeral attire
is
gathered,
Just as the brightest layette.
We try to The
ease, to
comfort
pains of death as
we do
the pangs of birth.
In bidding farewell, as in welcoming.
The
family circles round,
Enclosing each
member
in
its
embrace.
^ft
XI Xj ITI
i
O T cl C G
Margarel Woolen
* IVY LEAVES STAFF * Lii e r a r y David R.
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rroduction Shannon
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Hadden
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Walker
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Cover Design and Design Concept
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