Ivy Leaves Staff Literary Advisor Dr.
Wayne Cox
Literary Staff
Joshua Burdette Darcie Davis
Leanne Gray
Maghan Lush Jessica Sopolosky
Marissa Sullivan
Sarah Swofford
Design Advisor Jane Dorn
Design Staff Becky Bradstreet Brian Burrell
Kayla Evett
Anthony Gonzalez IVlelissa Johnson Kari Pettit
Donavon Schmidt AshelySmoak AliseWilkins
Cover Design Kari Pettit
Anderson College 2005
You Were Never Supposed to
Know It
happened
in a
It
all
A
bird flew for the
monrient
first
time
LeAnne Gray Taking
its
flight
over countless
Trees of death and
And It
right before
I
some green knew the moment
was taken from me
— Along with
My innocence... You know the moment speak of I
The moment you so
willingly
stumble upon
The moment you are never supposed to know The moment in which the ultimate test lies and you
fail
A moment you were warned about A moment you anxiously feared A moment only death can
comfort.
Ivy Leaves
1
Dixie Holton Achilles Heel
47"x52" Acrylic
Ivy Leaves 2
on Canvas
Once in a Lifetime
Brandy Caldwell
We m med iate ly co n nected His eyes stared at me from across the room i
looked back a second,
I
third, fourth,
As he introduced himself,
I
was
and
fifth
time
moved
His eyes never
his story captivated
were
definitely awrare that his eyes
my attention
intently fixed
on my every word But spoke without care or concern I
There was so much freedom
in
our conversation
We told our histories of family let downs That
left
us strong and independent
And sometimes too
self reliant
He understood how could miss my father Because he only knew his mother for two years, but I
His surprise
"Me too,"
I
ending abruptly stated, "I'm
said
and that was
in
it
weekof my
He
I
left
Irish
return
it
life
Pub he
Until
if
we just met."
the table and rushed back
in frantically
our eyes met and he slowly and confidently his
crazy
enough
said,
to
do
and
his
While one
notion was just
it.
Thereafter, the table next to ours
like
made
way back to me,
"Dance with me," he
It
going to walk away.
said, "I'm
be as
will
searching the restaurant
^
I
other again
would be the most spontaneous and exhilarating
At one local
When
why
it.
Who knew that three years later we would find each And
didn't say
love with someone."
began to clap and cheer
man wiped away a tear with
to think of our
was almost
first
invisible;
and
the
last kiss
split
his shirt sleeve
goodbye
second before he boarded the bus
Now his eyes shine like stars far away from my knowing My heart called his name in our beginning existence He smiled In a If
at
me then and continues to hold this wand over me am held in his sight
trance float with him as I
only he could
come to this
A wish would be his
And the
I
place
I
call
forever paradise
so sweet, but could never
compare
to
strawberry touch glistening ears that truly hear
me
Ivy Leaves 3
Oscillating Fan
Still in
his quiet corner,
yearning for a hot day
Anthony Gonzalez
to perform his act of nature,
no longer dornnant but awake. His long neck
still
stands
tall,
but after years of off and on, it's
tilted
like a
towards
my window,
sunflower towards the sun.
His blades swiftly
saw the
air,
with a pleasant, soothing fury.
He helps me fall asleep it's
It
really his
at night,
only duty.
was cold without him
this night,
month unusually frigid, got in bed, the alarm went on, but he was one who didn't.
the tenth I
Ivy Leaves 4
AliseWiikins Untitled
5"x7" Photograph
Ivy
Leaves 5
Personal Belongings
I
suppose he wanted
make the
to
proposal something she'd never forget. Tricia Tyndall
He wanted
to
fly
with her to
and go ice-skating
New York
at Rockefeller
Square
and then ask her while the snow fell after a carriage ride in Central Park.
She probably had an idea of what
was coming but would
try to act surprised.
But he must have been surprised into his coat
Maybe he remembered on
his
when he reached
pocket and didn't find the
ring.
that she had her hands
chest on the plane, and he didn't want
her to feel the jewelry box, so he must have
sneaked
it
into the seat
in
front of them.
He should have paid attention when the attendant announced to check the
flight
seat pockets for
that
Ivy Leaves 6
all
personal belongings
may have been
left
behind.
Transplanting Irises
There's something familial
about the way
Margaret B. Hayes
Irises cling
together,
holding onto each other like
children holding hands.
They need transplanting, but something bothers me, for
when
I
pull
them from
the soft dark earth,
ghost-white roots like
bloodless fingers,
hang on desperately. Shocked I
pull
for a
moment,
back
feeling guilty,
then walkaway,
remembering what leaving
it's like,
home.
Hanna Kozlowski Sincerity is the Essence of Friendship 14" X 23"
Graphite on paper Ivy Leaves 7
Stacy Adams Untitled
34"x28" Oil
on Canvas
Ivy Leaves 8
Swing
The great A stretches across the Its
Shannon Griffin
It
slate,
mirror image hovering above
in full color.
A
little girl's
shadov^
Her legs straighten out.
Falls into
it.
With her
hair
blowing
the breeze
in
And her fists tightly clinched around Two silver chains, she holds her breath. She prepares
for
another climb to the top
Where she looks down on
she
all
But she's careful not to focus on
She
is
enjoying where she
is
left.
it
too long.
now, soaring high
Against a perfect blue.
Her voice echoes
in
the wind.
She spreads out her arms. Letting the breeze pass through
Her fingers. Suddenly, she
Down
again
like a
great
is
pulled back
pendulum
Touching every point on the
arc.
Before taking off again into the world
She only halfway knows.
Ivy Leaves 9
Rebecca Shaw Untitled
36"x28 Oil
on Canvas
Ivy Leaves 10
Nantahala
Bronze leaves glide
through the
AdaEzeokoli
frigid air
to the surfaces of this
green
rustling
they
A
call
silk
spread
the Nantahala.
kingfisher heads upstream,
its
blue wings
sharp
in
contrast to the bare trees
pasted against gray clouds.
The rush of the
river
echoes
through the morning mist as
we trek down the shore.
Nantahala
is
singing.
remember a river like this, where the teenage girls I
in their
multicolored wraps
fetch water in
huge
clay jars
they balance on their heads.
The trees on that
river's
bank
are laden with udalas,
the clouds white as blouses
washer-women lay out on rocks to be sun-bleached. rememberthe surge of water against my bare brown feet I
as
my hands sought out pebbles
in
the
I
can
river's
still
as she
shallow bed.
hear
Mama
singing
washed our clothes
against the face of a boulder
worn smooth from years of the scrubbing hands of women
who sang
by the
river before.
rememberthe river's song, and it lures me back to Nantahala, I
her churning rapids crashing into the silent, rigid boulders.
The
kingfisher's raucous cry
echoes through as
this cold valley
we paddle our raft backwards
into the tunnel of leaves.
Ivy Leaves 11
Mountain
Woman Blues
Her body she
Maghan A. Lusk
is
is
gnarled, twisted, and woody,
made of hard
lines,
hard
facts,
her jowls sag
is
rigid as a splinter,
in
the seat of an old rocking chair.
her
like
mouth
the planks
Cradled upon her bosom, babes, men, have been soothed into
on the crescendos of bluegrass
manhood
lullabies
and the mandolin beating between each heavy
breast;
she knits her world into the patches of a quilt that drapes, a treasure
map across
her knees,
a birth here, a death to yellow fever there,
and her own mother's legacy of casting out demons with bitterroot tonic and faith healing;
the body, flecked with age, recedes
moonshine from
a
communal
like
bottle,
falling back, back, back,
into the rocking chair passed
Ivy Leaves 12
down through
generations.
Amber Dumas Untitled 12 1/4" X 19 5/8"
Charcoal on Paper
Ivy Leaves 13
'^s5^.";^iie: Robbie Cobb Typographic Self-portrait 11"x17" Illustrator
lvyUaves14
CS
Family Vacation
my father said.
"We'll drive at night," "They'll sleep
through that way."
Marissa Sullivan But ten miles before crossing Alabama's state I
I
woke up and pressed my forehead
line,
against the cool glass.
counted 43 rebar crosses
In
the
last
four miles of the state.
Tracing each one Careful not to let
in the fog of my small breath. my finger squeak against the wet glass.
The smaller crosses were almost hidden. Secrets buried beneath the too-steep berm,
While the Into the
moon
cast
shadows of the
larger
ones
middle of the road.
"My God," my mother said after a Semi shook Past our car and we passed number 12. She glanced
at
my father
And then forward "Probably
all
the
He finally said
again.
damn drunk Indians,"
after
number 31.
"Choctaws or Creeks maybe."
My mother nodded, satisfied. One I
lay
mile past 43, and
two minutes before
But flashing on the back of
Were white
And
sunrise,
back down and waited for the beach.
my eyelids
crosses,
Indians scattered
on dawn's highway
Bleeding.
Ivy Leaves 15
— —
Ryan's Room
In
the hallway, touch the cold door with I
Pushing Ally Queen
it
open
This secret,
to enter a
my fingers
whole other time,
untouched room
and model
Football trophies
cars
That have been abruptly frozen Like a pond's surface in the
in
time
dead of winter.
Not that think I
If
he were
That
still
here today
we would
Or get along
Knowing Or that
never fuss and
like
fight,
perfect siblings,
his favorite color or
we would be the
type of car.
best of friends
And remain together every moment A timeless team. The Carpenters Singing together through
life's
mysteries and
trials,
Knowing the other will always be there
It's
On
just the
way
his senior picture sits
his night chest,
How his
letter jacket falls across his chair.
Everything
still
the
way he
left
it
Collecting dust year after year...
And never hear his laugh. Or know the way he smelled when we hugged. I'll
Although
my parents
have that great advantage...
So, often sneak up to his room and try to remember Then turn around taking just one last look, I
I
Leaving the room
Frozen
Ivy Leaves 16
in
I
time and
also leave Ryan, in
my mind since the day
he
left.
Alicia
Marquez
Kareef
32"x40" Charcoal on Conservaboard
Ivy Leaves 17
procrastinate.
Brian Burrell i-procrastinate. t-shirt
Ivy Leaves 18
design
Communion
As
we stood, our two faces
The pages and your voice
Maghan A. Lusk
illuminating
like a
Victrola throwing poetic static
Through foggy kitchen
air,
Sharon Olds'
Words never sounded so beautiful. So like a locket being opened to reveal
A sweetheart
— your love of language.
This language that did not conne from fields
Where you picked
cotton, a thick-haired.
Shoeless child; not as a mother of five, divorced,
Working your salvation out on the loom To make tapestries of others' opportunities;
You dreamed
in
metaphor and those bourgeois
Words your children never cared Nor did they care
for the fire in
to learn.
your soul
That spoke poetry on their plates: Breakfast, dinner, shelter.
Your blood and bone weaver's hands racing
Quick around the table to But your own. But
each hunger
satisfy
now your granddaughter
Places these profound gifts in her journal
Where she will show the world how a mother Forfeited her voice for those of her children.
How those voices dissipated Of her
children's children,
Voice that ^
Us, the
is
mine
in
the heat
and how this one
lingers in the fog
haze of communication.
Grandmother.
I
I
around
am
listening,
have always listened.
Ivy Leaves 19
Adam Lynch Untitled
28"x38" Oil
Ivy Leaves
20
on Canvas
—
Waiting Room
Waiting
in
a chair as hard as
a country church
Jennifer
Roman
pew
meant to be welcoming
for only
maybe two,
at hand.
A man
in
Everyone
if
eternity
is
an hour
a white coat strolls into the open. stiffens
and
listens,
only to hear the Coke machine suck up a dollar,
and
spit
Maybe
out
he'll
his
energy
for the early
morning hours.
take care of the lady
that just staggered in
with a red-blotted towel over her eye,
but
she'll
haveto
wait, just like the rest,
bare feet on a cold
floor,
facing the wall-sized for
window
everyone to sneak
at the latest
tragedy
a
in
peak
town.
Her unbattered eye staring at something unseen along with the other waiters,
making "I'll
deals,
and facing the facts
come to your funeral,
if
you come to mine."
Ivy Leaves 21
Donavon Schmidt Untitled
36"x30" Oil
on Canvas
Ivy Leaves
22
My Grandmother
She puffed the chubby cigar As
Stefanie Connelly
we all
sat
and watched
Smelling that familiar smell
She looked just Clenching
it
like
him
between her teeth
With a half-cocked smile
All this
to
remember the
Indestructible man, In a
now
5x7 gray plastic box
We smell that sweet smell And watch the smoke Amazing Grace
plays
rise as
in
the background.
Ivy Leaves
23
Adam Lynch Untitled
4"x6"
Photograph
Ivy Leaves 24
—— — —
Evergreen
By the road, an old hemlock stands
Joshua Burdette
scarecrow
like a
up
left
His splintered garb threatens his stick leg
His roots
is
thrust into the
when he braced
I
dirt.
must have spread out w^ide around him himself to stop the truck
with the two teenagers
from
after harvest.
no one,
rolling into
in
it
the meadow.
wonder if his arms are tired now way the ground pulls them down
the
But his fingers
still
like icicles.
drip Christmas green
long after harvest.
Graridfather's
Workbench
His
hands
—the color of burnt sienna
have scarred and chipped knuckles,
Darcie Davis
which used to be young and are
now shaky and
still,
old.
Hands that are constantly grinding, twisting, stripping, or
mending something.
Hands that can break something with or with that
The
same
ease, restore
bitter cold stinging his flesh
gloves would only be
in
the
ease,
it.
now,
way
hands don't know what a break feels
like
only the sweet success of the completed responsibility.
The smell of sparks from the burning steel, or the shrieking sound of the grinding wheel, what sounds harsh to the untrained is
what brings comfort to
ear,
his.
Ivy Leaves
25
Dixie Holton Untitled 32" X AT Oil
Ivy Leaves
26
on Canvas
Four Views from a Shoreline
An
old wall with old
windows
stood as longboats glided into the bay,
Franklin
Capps
filled
who
with Norsennen
this small piece of land.
who spoke
intended to occupy
These creek men
strange syllables
in
approached the coast and crossed the old into the place
and bog
burned even
fires
wall
where Gaelic was spoken in
the summer.
And the Romans eventually came dressed well and with crooked noses.
They
called this land the Winter Place
because
were
was so
it
No warm
cold.
baths or statues of generals
built or raised like
those
in
the south of England-
the cold storms rolling into Ulster
from out on the dark ocean
The old
men
wall stood as
someplace
like
left
and
to travel to the Continent at
stifled building.
as soldiers fight
Somme
the
with Newfoundlanders, Scotsmen, and Englishmen
and some from other tribes,
bogged down
only to be
dying calmly
in filthy
where invaders intended Those
soldiers
in
bleeding France
trenches to occupy.
came home
in
the
summer men
and swam
in
the same bay where creek
had come
in
years before.
Now the old wall watches as some young in
the same water where
came onto
boys swim Romans and Norsemen
shore.
The old windows see people walk about and have conversations they will soon forget. They see that there there were
men
is
here;
water here; it
has rained here.
Ivy Leaves
27
Kristy Eppolito
Moment 3"x4"
Photograph
Ivy Leaves
28
The cover art
is
inspired by
Norman
Rockwell's piece, "The Art Student."
The student
in
the painting
is
very
intently studying a portrait in a
museum. At the same time, the lady in the portrait student. Art
Although a
lot
is
is
studying the
self expression.
of the time
in
school
we work with the purpose of studying a medium of art or to learn a particular style, our art very often ends up being a study of ourselves.