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Yarmer HO eold
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mutfi #1
totviirtin III
an
Arabic Travel As
my caravan And
I
look at the
v\/ish
and water
blisters
I'm thinking,
sides think of drinking.
could stop and reclaim
I
each hand
that cover
men on my
While the
I
races through Arabian sands
of coolness
my
all
breath,
"What a lone golden world," would
say.
I
But
OS
try
I
might,
Just
I
would only bring death-
another Arabian day!
My camel slowing, the sun's scorching hot And the sand on the ground burns like fire. is
Temptation
is
glowing
On goes the But the sun
for
a
soft,
worm food
But the thought of
springy cot
spurs
Although But
I
it is
see
above
isn't
as bright.
another Arabian
now, round,
With no calm-like patience I
Lying
in I
its
graces-
night!
dark now, the heat it
higher.
day, without an oasis.
Without a nice breeze, to show us Just
me
like
is still
there.
a dome.
and no mercy
ride the last miles to
to spare,
my home.
darkness, as the wind beats the door, think of
Should
As
I
I
my
stay, for try
life
I
with such sorrow.
can't take
much more
not to think of tomorrow?
—Adrienne Geer
UW fhfBtBf FBflBCte on Post-War Feminism, the Nuclear p
Popularized
in
Family, song.
and Minute Rice
Pasteurized
in
myth.
Watered down through generations, as a costume one day for Laverne and Shirley look-a-likes. Or worse, a tattoo on an overweight biceps. Homefront Heroine, "
"
the hardest job I've ever had.
Competing with Camel as poster giH for the
girls for
unarmed
calendar coverage forces
left behind to cook, sew, and weld pounding rivets into B-24's, singing "We can do it girls ..." Sandwiched between flag and ham and thirty pounds of rivet gun, a regular Rockwell print for The Saturday Evening Post.
troops
.
<â&#x20AC;˘.
-A-
But imagine sending your six year old to school
promising her father's return
from the bomber he's
flying
year old's house, a bomber you helped make between
over another
six
scrambling eggs at 5 a.m. and tucking kids in with Dr. Seuss and Uncle Sam. You too may be a nuclear family before
it's all
over with.
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Jennifer Brown
The
truth,
His
it
seems,
is
men do and
In all
often found
say,
bumbled mind can't comprehend jumbled ugly mess.
This
He wipes
And
brow, he
his
grits his
teeth.
steps out for a breath.
The moist thick Clouds Vound
from
air
his slight
deep
within
enchantment;
The bloodshot numbness of
his
Again wipes
heart bleeds.
He
I
am
in
his
hand
silence
stumble on
man once began my own defense,
see
air,
"I
I
out
cries
brow, as
his
not the
it
in
the
I
as;
the trees;
Why don't they see? Why do they want to be a
society
That strays so far from conformity.
Only to
fall
A people
right
back
into
that long so
its
much
slippery grip? for individualism
That they create predictable robots.
They
all
They
all
want want
to
be
different;
to fight the norms, break the codes, rebel.
Break the norms around your ankles. Break the codes you grasp
to, vertically,
Looking on the other side, longing for
Look at your world
each day.
truth.
differently.
Stand on a desk and look at an office; Watch a conversation from afar. Don't go against conformity like everyone
Go
against the norms that
Not rebelling
you from
else.
reality.
real rebellion.
is
Not pretending
Not deceiving
rip
is
is
real creating.
true deception.
Throw your arms up and receive your Maker." Shaking the cold,
Snow Into
the party,
â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Asa Moron
mountain he walks bock
brisk,
off his jacket,
and
tells
himself to
be new,
Heather
Rollins
Untitled
Conte'
A
Farewell to
Hope
Clouds thunder across the
Winds
roll
sky.
across the dark plain.
foretells what happen on this sleepy day. yesterday, bade my love farewell.
The atmosphere
About Just
My
is
to
I
gentle wife looked through
my
Eyes into
my
And now
the Roundheads ore coming.
Chanting
their psalms,
heart
one
last
time,
ready to
fight.
Soon would see what would make I
An army impassioned Of
history.
with the mission
purifying His bride.
And then my
heart
was
filled
with
Uncertain loyalty to the king.
Had bowed my knee I
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Christopher Fyock
to
a statue of gold?
Cleaning Yellow
is
Woman
a good
a yellow
color,
flowing,
with soft red flowers for
and a
think,
I
dress,
and
long
at the Mall
big
hatâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; one
brim turned
good measure, amber straw,
of
just so.
She spoke no word,
my
looked not but
I
way,
liked her yellow dress,
with soft red flowers,
and the way (as
if
her hips
to music),
moved out wearing amber
as she
(with
swayed
of sight,
straw
a bright blue flower)
at a saucy angle
atop her head.
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Margaret
B.
Hayes
Venus In
her
I
see the
vision of
wonno-be me,
the
the one with longer, golden locks.
The
me that's
almost there
or has been, at times.
Flattered myself for years as her type,
something about her The or
was
and
it
I
recognized
the eyes, tempera
hair,
in
myself.
skin
soft belly, small breasts
other private imperfections?
More
flattered
engraved on
when he
his left
said she
was a
tribute to
arm,
not the side most often seen.
Once
again, Venus stands
as allegory for those Born of shale
blown
in,
in
who have been shamed.
and foam and wind from the
waved
west,
around, put out to sea again.
Painted more often than Odalisque,
although more deceitful and plain each time. Loving
all
despising
men with equal measure, women with equal fame.
all
To be admired
less
the fear of the
shift in
If
than one, years to
come.
they hod known,
would they hove worshipped her the same?
â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Jennifer Brown
me
Julia Goldie
10
Transcendent
Etching
Shadow Dancers What elegant and graceful men dance deep Into the night They dance Into the darkest wood without a trace of fright They lead the Into the land
girls
with lonely hearts so tenderly
A smooth and sculpted A lovely pair of sky blue They dance The
spells
you
But
I
like living
moke young
fear deeply for the ones
dream
girls
of
will
call
or so close before twilight
who dance
themselves astray
they ever see the golden
and wide
so far
the
for
the sad
light of
day
and brokenhearted
shadow dance they cannot be outsmarted
love to those who dance in shock beneath the moon who dance and sing out loud with the shadow dancer's
ever you see a
shadow dancer
Never could he treasure you,
try
not to
or treat
you
fall in
like
But
when you dance let
them dance
the
their
When shadow dancers â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Adrienne Geer
shadow dance,
tune
love
the
dove
Gentlemen and handsome dears the dancers seem
So
smiling faces
magic scenic places
call with
The ones
If
dawn
after
And when you dance So
eyes,
with the sun, stand firm beside the light
For never again
The dancers
wavy hair complexions hard and fair
body, with long, dark,
wicked shadow dance with handsome
their
they cast
You never see them If
away
where shadows dwell where sleep and sorrow ploy
to
be
then, never are you free
hungry dance, and
let
them go on
lead you along with them
you'll
their
way
always stay
My
Dish
gonna
O.K., I'm
and don't want him
call
I
another date. What should "Hi,
can
just
take
This
my
in
leave Just
it.
Thomas.
huck
dish
the entrywoy.
my
and want
to
I
Thomas.
"Hi,
wondering
calling to it
keep him
huck
can leave
dish.
it
This
Theresa.
is
you got
if
my
in
it
my
last
He
just
drop
off,
it
is
I'll
try
It's
message? Anyways, drop
either
It
it
off
my
dish or
just
pick
I'll
outside your place or you
has been over a month and
me
pick
my
it
up,
things are going
about
to get
time.
Theresa. O.K., is
how
I'm just
dish.
one more
How
fine.
have
or
been a few weeks and
keeps calling and asking
Thomas.
everything
would hove no
I
entrywoy. Xay?"
"black" on him. No, "Hi,
It's
a bag and leave
in
and doesn't even mention the
fine,
it's
That might sound pre-
set.
thinking that
Well, I'm starting to worry.
no
will
is.
you that you can
tell
up. Just
No one
O.K.
"I'm-never-gonna-get-marrled-so-I'd-better-buy-
idea what Bloomingdole's
I'm just
be
It'll
you
Listen,
I
myself-some-dishes" Bloomingdoles tentious,
are you?
Maybe, should mention that
O.K., that didn't work.
part of
How
a bag. Thanks!"
in
it
want
I
say?
I
Theresa.
is
thinking
dish?
listen, If
I'm fine, the cat
is
you don't want to
you can moil
Just
it.
huck
in
it
a box!" It's
guys
like
these
who make
dating deadly.
can say? He keeps leaving messages I
missing
12
guy
is
me
to
each
other!"
trying to
be the
I
like,
don't think he knows
moke me crock and
typical "black
already told
me
Well, for the
betterment of
it's
What
"We just keep
how
working.
lucky that
He
just I
that he thinks I'm suppressing race,
I'll
give
it
my one
is.
This
wonts
woman" he just knows am.
my
else
He's
"blackness." lost try.
"Hello, really
miss
want my
it.
let
me
That's over.
dish bacl<,
The cat misses
up. Just
"I
think
I
miss
Just let
it.
No more
discussion I
me know when and
know what's going
beyond
description. Hell,
I
You take
maybe,
I'm
Okay,
and
I
it's
It
stress of
make a
my
dish,
in
would
months,
pick
it
for
F.
Theresa to take
is
home. Success! You are
happens a
sinister
being
to
be a
dish this
study of the
'dish-less.'
Sorry,
I
one word got through
deal. Since
you
'miss'
to
our con-
why don't we have a
conversations based on the return of
I
I'll
You meet someone.
on.
just
a participant
let's
'miss'
home tomorrow
time
leftovers
couldn't help myself. Look, at least
versation
the set
You claim the main course
pins up.
female psyche under the
youâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; 'miss.'
I
don't know, you probably collect any and
bobby
everything from time, Or,
in
to me,
needed.
invited over to dinner.
stealer.
The other dishes
it.
Theresa,
You are
a pot
listen
know."
it!
No more
once again. Please
Theresa,
it's
my
dish? Coil me.
I'll
be
night after eight." like
to believe that that
who con be
will
do
it,
but after three
sure?
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;F. Theresa Gillard
13
stand Fast Looking
The
down
from the top of the castle.
could hardly be seen.
city
Fog cover'd some unl<nown
Who knew what our
We
story.
would bring?
mile walk
looked through the house of
IVlary
the Scot
Taking in all that we could. When we walked to the back, we saw the mountains And an old cross in the abbey that stood. still
I
remembered how
A thousand
there
years ago,
They preached the
sit
each
light of
But by the sword of the
They used to
once was a brotherhoodâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;
Upon
for
fell.
hill,
Christ.
the faith
cost every
that high
that darkness.
in
pagan they
The words of Moses and
it
God
in his cell.
before that old cross copying by hand
They contended
Though
at prayer
last
once
one
of
for
all
them
handed down
his
life.
the elders met centuries later
To swear an oath by the cross of their fathers: To defend the only one true and Against the
They entered
lies
into
and
idols of
and cut a solemn covenant by blood
Though outnumbered Death was
right faith
Cromwell's invaders.
fifty
to one.
certain, but they
looked
Before that dark
down
to the cross
day had become.
"Be strong and very courageous" read the monks and the
covenanters
Who May
would not bow
to idols
and deny what
is
true.
we, with them, deny ourselves and pick up our
Willing to die
and take
â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Christopher Fyock
its
blood oath too.
cross.
To create and
To say
give insight,
great things.
My thoughts seem
Why would
you
so
Or even consider the That cover
my world?
Conveying
their
Seems
I
and useless.
trite
care,
issues
deeper meaning
and hopeless.
pointless
want to contribute,
To
sort through burdens,
To
sort through the puzzle
my
But
And my
you
face.
words
lack of
half-hearted desire
miserably each time.
Fail
The stagnant phrases That
slip
my
from
Graze by you
lukewarm
lips
softly,
leaving perhaps a
memory.
But a fading memory.
My words To
hold not the strength
strike that nerve,
To dredge out That
will
But,
my friend,
And
My
I
that fervor,
to fight.
will affect
perseverance
is
my
mentor.
you.
ever-present, all-encompassing.
And
totally infectious attitude
Will reach you. I
will
continue to smile upon that day.
-Asa Moran
First
Love
moment
Takes only a Bleed
away
Held too Its
petals
its first
tightly in fall,
to crush
sweet
a
rose.
flush.
the bud.
weeping,
to the ground.
Did
I
ever love you?
In
the beginning
In
a
was
I
all
sweetness.
while,
wondered.
For,
Held too Like
My
tightly.
the rose. love bled slowly
from your hand. Dripping, dripping,
dripping.
Through your
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Margaret
16
B,
fingers.
Hayes
Chris
Dunagin
Me, You, the Music
Linoieum
17
Bhon Gaines
Reticulation of Faith vs. ttie
New
IVIartyrs
Acrylic
Requiem The old apple tree has
fallen
down,
broke loose at the root
No one No one The
picks
it
takes
up;
away.
it
trunk,
once
firm, tall, strong,
stretched out
like
a
slain Goliath.
Gone,
its
time of
Relinquished,
Given up
its
Collapsed it
lies
its
fruitfulness.
hold on earth.
reach to
into
grieving
sky.
a helpless head,
beneath a green vine
that hugs close its
bare branches and
covers
One
its
nakedness.
feels like
to see
it
shedding tears
humbled so-
Like tip-toeing
past
a grove.
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;Margaret B. Hayes
19
Carrie
I
stumbled upon a waterfall
Embedded deep within the woods; child became againAbove me a tree house my father made. And the creek where tiny minnows escape
A
I
hands.
Curiosity's
little
Caught
in
between the
Was an
old rotten
In
a glimpse,
I
shirt
I
rocks.
tore chasing Carrie—
saw them—
Us— Running through the
we just
Sometimes
Carrie never
And know I
A vision
of
Rolls slowly
would
hid from
in
life.
coll for help.
her father
me,
let
her
fall,
the water before
over the rocks to the
—Amy Brooks
20
trees.
I
ran
silent
away-
bottom.
,0WS softly
The
Fields of
The sounds
o,,
Pan
of pipes are floating past along these
sloping hills
To
see the
gnomes and
fairies
dancing encloses
me with thrills The
pixies skip
behind
my feet, as our host sings
nice nearby
He blows
on
a note
his silver pipe as
he gazes
at
the sky
The faims
all
dance and
click their
hooves on the
pebbles by the Stream
The atmosphere
is
warm and bright like a most
amazing dream.
The moon glows blows
As
softly
on
my skin as the breeze
<
like a fan
the goblins
y
moan, with
my arms held high,
â&#x20AC;&#x201D;^Adrieime Geer
^\\
ao6
(,'V'
M^
along the fields of Pan. J
\^
'^^
sinll ^XK^^
^
.A^â&#x20AC;˘
'''^Id fiigh, flfonjj
tdcr
s
<<: f-
^ David Parker
22
The Franco-American Experiment
Acrylic
IVY LEAVES STAFF Editorial Staff
Asa Moran Christoplner Fyocl< Jennifer Brown
Design Staff
Andy
Burleson
Gaines David Parker Emily Reese Brian
Jill
Roberts
Heather
Cover
Rollins
Art
and
Typographic
Design:
Jill
Illustrations:
Roberts
David Parker Reese
Emily
Joanna Simmons Faculty Advisors
Susan Wooten
Wayne Cox
Special thanks to Walt Shockley for technical support.
and
Aliya
George
Kent Dorn
Untitled
Mixed Media Painting