Poetry Commons^™

The Chord, Joan Fuller

Manuscripts

The train moved into the reflection of the dawn. Paul opened his eyes and looked out at the grey-black silhouettes of telephone poles stalking by, and the slowly rounding land. For a moment in the dawn, they looked like half-remembered poles and fields moving in a dream. But then he was awake and knew he was awake and California was ahead.

Front Matter

Manuscripts

Contains table of contents.

Walking In A Burnt Hole, Sophia Friedman

Student Scholar Symposium Abstracts and Posters

Holocaust stems from the Greek word “burnt hole,” but when the word Holocaust is mentioned today it refers to the rise of Nazi Germany in 1933 until the fall in 1945 (Skloot). More specifically, the Holocaust refers to the 11 million persecutions through concentration camps. The Holocaust is widely studied for various reasons, but the biggest reason is that “’we are seekers of understanding in the territory defined by those events” (Skloot 9). Through written work, such as poetry and plays, the Holocaust is brought to life in a more realistic way.

Through art we are able to connect to …

Volume 10, Issue 4: Full Issue

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Excerpts

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Things I Am Curious To Learn, Marylouise Miles

Manuscripts

Like every other child I started out with a burning curiosity. At five that unextinguishable fire was a horrible thing. Horrible, that is, to those coming within hearing distance. "Why" was the only word in my vocabulary, and every moment made me more masterful in its use. Why do ants build their houses like that? Why is grass green instead of some other color? Why are you dusting, Mama? Why do I have to wear my coat today? Why? Why? Why? Of course those sentences, are exasperating; so was I.

Just For Fun, Tom Stump

Manuscripts

The first book that I remember having read for myself was A. A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh. I read and re-read this book many times, as well as its twin, House at Pooh Corner. Whenever I grew tired of reading one of these books, I would skim through the pages and look at the winsome little pictures of Pooh, or Ear, the donkey, or Kanga, the kangaroo. Although as I grew up I soon considered myself above such juvenile literature, I was amazed not very long to find that I still enjoyed reading about the exploits of Pooh, the amiable …

The Ohio, Joan Hayden

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

At The Concert, Robert Breedlove

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

How To Become A Meistro In Two Easy Lessons, Elmer Eisenbarth

Manuscripts

Civilization has given the human race many disgusting things, but none of them can even come close to the abhorrent practice of haircutting. Haircuts, as they appear today, constitute one of the greatest setbacks to the advance of man. They make man appear, to an outsider, inferior to the dumb animals. Whoever heard of an animal voluntarily getting a haircut'? The injury that is done by haircuts to the bankroll, time, and comfort of man, is incomprehensible.

Kaleidoscope, Shirley Loy

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

They Go To Your Head, Mary Johnson

Manuscripts

The nearest to perfect happiness a woman ever gets is when she is shopping. Not the ordinary "every-day" kind of shopping for celery, onions, potato chips, salt or white thread (No. 60), but the intriguing, glamorous type of shopping for wearing apparel. This applies to all kinds of clothes; dresses, coats, suits, sweaters, shirts, shoes, purses, and gloves. Hats, however, are another story. They belong in a class by themselves. A woman's true character is often displayed when shopping for a new chapeau.

My Favorite Spot, Sam Stark

Manuscripts

My favorite spot is in the Marion Railway car shops. This may seem strange to anybody else, but that is what I like. I like to stand in the door-way of the shops and watch the bright orange cars move about the yard. The sound of the wheels rolling over low joints is music to my ears.

A River And An Island, John Stuart

Manuscripts

An island in a river is a wonderful place. Although there is one in White River not far from Butler, many students have never seen it. This island divides the flow of the river into two parts, the channel being to the right. There are rapids on both sides of the island the current on the left side rushes between large stones. It is possible to get to the island by jumping from stone to stone from the left side only. It is fascinating to watch the changes in life around this island come with the changes of the seasons.

The College Girl's War Effort, Mildred Evans

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

The Student's Preparation For Peace, Jack Walker

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Americana, Doris Daley

Manuscripts

I ride over the hills and I see the sun rise on America. I see a vast continent through the purple haze. I see the deserts and the jungles - the summer sun and the winter snow. I see the people who live in this country - as they came, different a!' the corners of the earth they left, and as they are today, one and indivisible - the lifeblood of the land. I see their farms and their great cities. I see them alone and in milling crowds, and I hear the tramp of their marching feet.

Album Pieces, Elizabeth Calkins

Manuscripts

There are many scenes in my life which I shall never forget, though I have no tangible reminders. There is one which must have taken place when I was very / young, for the chief character is my great-grandma Smith, who died when she was ninety-eight, and that Was shortly after my third birthday. I can see her standing, as stern and straight as her unbending words, on the walk that led down to the street in front of the house. In the background there Was a corner of the porch with the side street vanishing behind it, for the …

A New Formal, Margaret Brayton

Manuscripts

The girl stood in the narrow doorway a moment before she went, slowly, into the living-room. She did not speak to her mother who was sitting in the dingy, brown leather chair by the window, did not seem to notice the anxious, gray eyes staring at her through old-fashioned, horn-rimmed glasses. She walked aimlessly about the room, then stopped to peer out of the window. "Mother," the girl began, still looking through the window into the cold, December twilight.

They Flash Upon That Inward Eye, Helen Fleischer

Manuscripts

Of course we never want or intend to forget the dear loved ones with whom we have lived and learned - those who have enriched our minds with their wisdom, beliefs, and interpretations of life, and have given us a gallery of happy memories which have a permanent place along with our ever increasing store of knowledge. However vivid these personalities may seem to us, yet, a few turns of the pages of a photograph album can bring their faces back again without any effort put forth on our part. Allow me to open this priceless book in order to …

Three Stages In My Mother's Life, John Whitaker

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

The Case Of The Pearl Necklace, William S. Mclean

Manuscripts

I had been teaching a class in psychology at Turner College for four years, when an incident occurred that threatened to bring the taint of scandal on the whole school. A member of one of the sororities reported the loss of a valuable pearl necklace, which, she thought, had been stolen during the dinner hour. The college officials made every attempt to discover the thief with little success. Suspicion's finger pointed to a young man by the name of Henry Stewart, but there was no tangible evidence upon which to make an accusation. Then Dr. Klinger, the president, asked me …

Grandpa's Story, Mary Margrette Schortemeier

Manuscripts

Grandpa was coming in. Leaning on his cane, she thought. She'd look around and see. Yes, leaning on his cane. And ready for his lunch. Noon meal was always dinner to him, though, even if it was only a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk.

Non-Conformist, Jeanne Gass

Manuscripts

Once Upon a time there was a little red horse. Not a real horse you know, but a wooden horse - a Merry-Go-Round horse. He was a nice little horse with a well developed personality and but one defect- he was red instead of gray. The One who made him had made a mistake, you know. Instead of making him gray with red spots he made him red with gray spots. Upon discovering this terrible mistake he ran to another of the Ones who make horses and confessed with averted eyes,

Lynch, Gwen Hayes

Manuscripts

"That's Lynch up there," volunteered Duke. Tom peered through the darkness up the tracks towards a jeweled spot at the end of the long narrow valley. The lights looked like children being dismissed from school, marching up the sides of the two mountains at first in neat rows outlining the terraces, then the few ahead, forgetting discipline in the sheer joy of freedom, scattering over the mountains in disarray. That one highest up is like I am, Tim thought, gladdest to get away from school.

Front Matter

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

The Will Of Villon, Joan Fuller

Manuscripts

On a fall evening in 1462 the grey began to creep up the narrow twisting streets of Paris and filled with blackness the carved mouths of the leering gargoyles which danced on the lower wooden stories of the houses. As the boy Jean called "Bon soir," to his master, the keeper of the hot baths, he could see over the roofs the pointed towers of Notre Dame, tinted scarlet by the setting sun. Paris was settling for the evening, the criers, like himself, were folding their wares and setting off for home. The streets were filled with bourgeois in cloth …

Volume 10, Issue 3: Full Issue

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Injustice, Helen Wells

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No abstract provided.

Moonlight Mood, Samuel Smith

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No abstract provided.