Poetry Commons^™

The School On Scroggy Road, Don Gochenour

Manuscripts

A board board meeting had been called in the parlor of Tom Livingston's home. A representative had come from each farm for miles around, for this was the much talked of meeting out of which would arise the answer everyone was waiting for - whether the farmers in the surrounding area would continue to bundle up their children each morning and ship them off to the nearest school at the county seat via a dilapidated school bus or whether something could be done to start the planning and erection of a school in their own district.

The Wistful Fable Of The Willows Of Willow Lane, R. Hancock

Manuscripts

Although willow trees, weeping willow trees, genus Salix babylonica (in case any botanist is listening), spring from the earth, there is something unearthly about them. This was the first profound observation in an exhaustive and exhausted one-man study made recently. It was discovered also that they provide atmosphere. Many writers have made good use of a stout willow; some use them as trapezes for school skipping farm boys in blue jeans, characters Iike Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn; several use them as an aid or receptacle for hiding passionate love letters, lockets, charms; many, for background in murder mysteries, and …

Capek's Masterpiece, Charles Lukenbill

Manuscripts

In R. U. R. Capek dramatizes the impending danger to mankind's vitality of machine-like efficiency. Here is a pleasing fantasy attempting to develop a notion implicit in Mrs. Shelley's Frankenstein, the peril of man's creating a monster destined eventually to destroy him. Of course, Capek changes this notion somewhat by giving it a social application. It seems that he is primarily concerned with the future of mankind. However, his "planetary consciousness" has not a scientific basis; it springs rather from a desire to save human values from the enslavement of industrial civilization.

Poems, Diana Harvey

Manuscripts

The Broken Song and The Three Moments by, Diana Harvey.

Carved In Stone, Robert Hulce

Manuscripts

The small, green table stood in a corner of the makeshift dugout. A shaded lantern spread its dim light through the silent shadows, its small blades of dull shine reaching across the interior of the Command Post. Old cigarette butts and long-gray ashes claimed their place upon the sodden earth floor.

Transplanted, Carolyn Finn

Manuscripts

Katy sat in the park and watched the pigeons strutting pompously along the walk. There were pigeons in Dublin, too, she thought. When she half closed her eyes and shut out the sounds of the metropolis she could imagine herself back in Dublin again, in the little park across the street from her father's novelty shop. If she tried real hard she could feel the old Katy O'Brien, the Dublin Katy O'Brien, still stirring deep inside her. A cold April breeze made her start, and shiver; and she rose from the bench to go home.

Poems, George Fullen, George Coffin

Manuscripts

Escape by, George Fullen and Twelth-night Ballad by, George Coffin.

Hollywoodism, Frank Slupesky

Manuscripts

Due to recent excavations of our archeologists in the area which was known to the Americans as Southern California, we have every reason to believe that one city in this area was quite similar in materialistic splendor to the city of Babylon, which just a few thousand years before flourished in Asia Minor. Our excavators agree that this city, called Hollywood, was the center of the curious craft of motion picture making. This is a significant fact since the motion picture, rather than any other phase in American life, epitomizes the shallowness to which American culture had degenerated by the …

We Killed Some, We Loved Some, M. R. Huntzinger

Manuscripts

She certainly didn't look like the German women whom we had read about before the war. She was tiny and slim, gray and wrinkled, about five feet two inches tall and weighed about a hundred pounds. Her sparkling eyes were sharp and expressive, and she was quick, scarcely stooped and very spry for a woman of such age. Her name was Betsy Holtzendoner. She was seventy-five years old, a widow and the mother of five children.

Easter, Ruth O'Mahoney

Manuscripts

Sing with joy

He comes

He comes He comes

Dance and be gay

Reprisal, George Fullen

Manuscripts

Sam was just too tired to pay much attention to the soldier who paused at the entrance and slid his eyes over the long, low building which was a combined Post Exchange and Red Cross Club. On the side toward the ocean, numerous posts had been imbedded in the ground and round tops nailed to them to serve as tables. A sign announced that It was a beer garden. Here were gathered the worshipers of sun, sea air and beer, and not a few who found watching specks on the horizon become ships and the surf leaping high against the …

Front Matter

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

She Birthed Her.Pdf, Rachel Walker

Staff Publications

A woman's self reflection.

In Praise Of Mary O'Donnell, Eamon Maher

Articles

No abstract provided.

Volume 15, Issue 2: Full Text

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Articulate Flier, Evelyn Hammond

Manuscripts

Bernie Lay's flier may be inarticulate, but mine isn't. He is my cousin Gib, Gilbert Robert Hendren Browning (my family is addicted to long names), and when he isn't flying, he loves to talk about everything.

Last Laugh, Jack Fultz

Manuscripts

Co-pilot Arnold Thurber's sly, cunning eyes became mirrors of wide-eyed terror and disbelief as he watched the bomb-bay doors of the huge bomber close the last inch. With haste born of desperation, he whirled and fought madly to return to the pilot's seat. Already the huge aircraft had started to spin. Reaching the pilot's seat, he saw, with glimmering hope, that pilot John "Speed" Lawson had the salvo switch shoved back in place.

I Have Before Me A Photograph, Lester Isaacs

Manuscripts

I have before me a photograph.

Not just another picture to be looked at and casually turned aside but-

One of monumental significance.

To me--

"Sonnet 29", Grace L. Whipple

Manuscripts

Allyn Wood uses symbolism to a rather large extent, and quite effectively, I believe. We are introduced to one of the cats, with its characteristic reserve and mystery, in the first paragraph, whereby an ominous atmosphere is created. Miss Wood continues to bring in cats and more cats until we feel just as Argus did about their penetrating presence. The cat, that creature of abstract mystery, quiet ubiquity and impenetrable character, certainly symbolizes the very existence of father and son in a house made mysterious by the father's continual probing for knowledge of what is beyond mortal senses to know.

A Diagnosis Of My Compositon Illness, George Triplett

Manuscripts

"My dear fellow, complete recovery from your disease rests entirely in your hands. There isn't much we can do for you."

Religion --Rationalization Or Reason, Marion Lou Spears

Manuscripts

I believe that God exists as the creator and ruler of the' universe. r accept and uphold this belief with what r hope is near to pure rational thinking. I realize that I still hold to a few of the old concepts that I first had in childhood, but I feel that I have made great progress.

On Reading Shakespeare, D. R. Barnes

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Something Special, John Q.A. Elliot

Manuscripts

Today was to be special. It had to be. The sun through the windows of the bright reading room was a harbinger. The sun gold-edged the emerald leaves of the lilac bush. It danced across the back yard, painting small platinum flecks between the lacelike ebony shadows of the giant maples. The breeze wafted through the open windows pushing the curtains lazily inward and carrying the sweet dew damp scent of the garden into the room.

Corot And Debussey, Diana Harvey

Manuscripts

have often sensed a likeness between the art of Corot and the music of Debussey. Both men picture a dreamy, make-believe world, peopled by slender, fragile creatures, who languorously drift their way through life. They have no cause to be different, for their world itself is languorous.

Shall We Prestidigitate?, Hans Steilberger

Manuscripts

PROBABLY the most difficult task for an immigrant is the mastery of the language of his new country, especially for a European coming to the United States. Before the war thousands were able to make the voyage from restrictions and oppression to a new life in America. Unfortunately, many of them did not have the opportunity to acquaint themselves with the language of the land of their choice. As a result they faced a hard struggle when it came to settling down to the task of learning to speak in a new and entirely different tongue from the one to …

Falstaff: A Purposeful Paradox, Laura N. Hill

Manuscripts

The paradoxical Falstaff appeals to mankind at all points of their natures. The wicked find in him a bosom companion, the sedate discover a moral lesson which is pleasant in its learning, and the gay are thrilled with the pure joy of his wit. No other character in literature has embodied so many ignoble characteristics and at the same 'time produced in his readers so many sympathetic reactions.

The Whitewater Valley, Ed Lewis

Manuscripts

The main fork of the Whitewater River has its origin in the rugged hills near Laurel, Indiana. This swirling, torrid, foam-flecked stream comes pouring down out of these hills into the lowlands which form its broad basin near Metamora. When it leaves this peaceful Hoosier hamlet the stream threads its way through a series of graceful spirals until it reaches the historic little city of Brookville where it is joined by its little sister, the east fork. The path of the river, from Brookville to the spot where it empties into the Miami River near Miamitown, Ohio, leads it through …

The Lady And The Sin, Carolyn Finn

Manuscripts

The fire burned brightly in the gloomy room, and a November rain beat drearily against the high windows. The guests were held in a strange hypnosis by the atmosphere of the hour, and none challenged the old man's statement. They waited, expectantly, knowing that some story must follow, and after a moment it did.

Le Havre---November 1945, Charles Delporte

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Sonnet For Christmas Eve, George Coffin

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.