Poetry Commons^™

Afternoon Piece, Mary Alice Kessler

Manuscripts

I sat down in the gray and green chair

And crossed my legs with retrospect,

The stem of the shining creme de menthe glass

Quivered between his long white fingers.

Doors, Edna Hinton

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Maybe Tomorrow, C.P. Hopkins

Manuscripts

HARRY, I wish I had a typewriter. If I had one right here now, I'd sit down and write a story. No, I don't think it would be a short story. It'd be closer to a novel. Yes, I'm sure it would be a novel.

Swift, Allyn Wood

Manuscripts

He is a Swift,

Lichen alive;

Pine cone with legs

And a fleeting fire

"Great Guy", Richard J.O. Green

Manuscripts

The cold seeped through Officer Moriarity's greatcoat and numbed his body. Steam spiraled from his nostrils in dragonesque patterns, and the far reaches of the street light at the mouth of the alley fell upon him and ricocheted off his badge and buttons as he lumbered toward the street. With cold numbed fingers he tugged a ponderous watch from beneath his coat and paused to examine its scarred face beneath the light ... eleven-thirty, half-an-hour until call-in time.

What A Measley Shame!, David Craig

Manuscripts

I was five years old and my brother Bob was seven when the measles came to our house. I went to bed one night feeling puny and woke up the next morning with a countenance. as disfigured as a painting by Picasso. Bob came in my room before I had· seen myself and burst into sadistic laughter.

Behind The Curtain, William Osburn

Manuscripts

The two men emerged from the building housing the linguistic offices of the Paris Peace Conference. They hailed a cab, gave the driver the address of a superior hotel, and arranged themselves comfortably for the ride. The older man, a Nebraskan by birth and education, was one of the State Department's lesser officials who was able to speak Russian.

The Red Hibiscus, Jan Skinner

Manuscripts

MAYBE I remember it because it was my first cocktail party, but I don't think so. I was in a hurry to be classified as an adult - to live up to my size. So I was sort of grateful when Les asked mother to drag me along to his "Welcome-Home- Liz" party.

Crescendo, Mary Alice Kessler

Manuscripts

I heard a horn crunch on the air

And a piece of laughter whistled behind a building,

I Weep, George W. Coffin

Manuscripts

Why do I weep? Why do my tears well over the brim and splash in dark patches on my shirt? Let me tell you why I weep. Let me tell you why tears flood my eyes and shower on my breast.

Front Matter

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Volume 13, Issue 4: Full Issue

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Vignettes

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Parachute Jump, Eugene V. Ayers

Manuscripts

"Stand up and hook up," comes the order. An attempt to rise is thwarted by eighty pounds of equipment and the violent lurching of the ship.

Night In A Manufacturing District, John M. Satter

Manuscripts

Night in a manufacturing district offers impressions quite different from those one gets in the same location during the day. Darkness hides much of the detail of the surrounding buildings, and softens their sharp lines so that they melt into great mounds of blackness.

A Veteran's Philosophy Of Education, Robert B. Johnson

Manuscripts

The acquisition of an education, to the veteran, is more than a desire-it is a must! The veteran's opportunities for observation of society, perhaps more numerous than those of the non-veteran, enable him to instantly conclude: education is the foremost prerequisite to life.

Shamus, James W. Sullivan

Manuscripts

When I tried to explain Shamus to the "Girl of my Dreams," I succeeded only in picturing an amusing and drunken gangster. She seemed to think he was an "Undesirable Character," so I guess I unintentionally stressed the rougher side of the diamond.

A Vacation, William G. Spellman

Manuscripts

We were going to Hawaii for a rest. The doctor had said we needed a short vacation, but that was his idea, not ours.

The Rise Of The Hoosier Metropolis, Maxine Lyerson

Manuscripts

Indianapolis one-hundred and twenty-five years ago was almost an unknown region where solitude reigned supreme. We who see it today as one of the world's finest cities find it hard to picture the infant capital consisting of four or five cabins and spread over a distance of perhaps two miles.

Stalag Xi B, Loren D. Mellendorf

Manuscripts

Stalag XI B was a prisoner of war camp used by the Germans during the war. It was not like the prison camps such as Buchenwald, which held political prisoners, but was one like the many others located throughout Germany. These camps contained prisoners from other armies, such as Indians, Czechs, Poles, British, French, Russian, and American. The troops captured all over the different fronts were brought to the interior to be held there for the duration.