Poetry Commons^™

Vignettes

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

A Typical Little Boy, Anne Sellers

Manuscripts

Tumbling from a bright school bus, a tousled-headed boy shoots imaginary bandits as he gallops up the driveway and into the house. He illustrates the typical school boy of eight or nine returning from a day in school.

The Attack, William E. Laycock

Manuscripts

A slight salt spray came over the bow and dampened my face. There was; a fresh breeze and I could see whitecaps on the rolling blue sea. It was the Pacific ocean and I was standing on the bridge of the U. S. S. Bashaw, a submarine of the United States Navy.

How Important Are Grades?, Sam Newlund

Manuscripts

There is no accurate, concrete method of measuring academic achievement. It certainly cannot be done by issuing grades at certain intervals throughout the course of our formal education. This practice, it seems to me, has certain limited values, but its importance is greatly overemphasized by students, and even by instructors.

Ascent Into The Blue, Claris Dake

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Compulsory Military Training, Robert Hays

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Compulsory Military Training, John L. Walton

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Home Again, Laverne Price

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Love And Hate, Janet Blatt

Manuscripts

Love and hate are the two most violent, turbulent emotions, known to mankind. Although at first it seems that the two emotions are poles apart, after careful analyzation many outstanding similarities can be found.

The Average American Student, Martha Chevalier

Manuscripts

The average American student is too little concerned with the academic phase of his education. I believe that most American students continue their higher education for one of several reasons: to respect their parent's desire that they go to school; -to continue in that pursuit of hedomism which graduation from high school has temporarily terminated; or in the case of some, to further their knowledge and stimulate their minds.

Birth, John E. Joyce

Manuscripts

In James T. Farrell's memorable novel, A World I Never Made, there is a scene in which Jim O'Neill's wife tells him that she is pregnant. They already have five children and are so poor that they have been forced to ask a relative to raise one of the boys. Jim realizes that this new child will probably know nothing save the misery of poverty and yet he cannot help but feel a certain pride in the fact that he is to be a parent once more. This is typical of fatherhood.

How I Learned To Ride A Horse, Lee M. Honts

Manuscripts

My first day in the corral at Ft. Riley, Kansas, "World's Largest Cavalry Post," was one filled with apprehension and dread. Learning to ride a horse was the objective of each rookie in the troop that day. The animal I was assigned to ride appeared like an elephant in size, with a reverse hump in his back. But that, the drill sergeant informed me, was the saddle!

Maggie And Jiggs, Marilyn Mitchell

Manuscripts

Every daily and weekly newspaper has a section devoted to "comic strip operas." Some people are extremely attached to certain comic strip characters ..They refuse to buy a newspaper which omits a blow by blow description of the daily lives of their particular favorites. Of all the famous comic strip characters now living on inside pages of our great newspapers, two of the best-known and best-loved are Jiggs and his nagging, fault-finding wife, Maggie.

Home Again, Joseph Zimmer

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Buddy, A. T. Blocker

Manuscripts

My most unforgetable character is a Polish forced laborer that my platoon picked up near Leipzig, Germany. I was not long in finding out that we had quite a character on our hands.

First of all, I had better tell you how we acquired "Buddy," as our friend came to be known. Who gave him the name, I don't know, but he seemed to respond to it so well, we let it stick.

A Trap, C. W. Bockstahler

Manuscripts

Just after I was discharged from the Army, my parents and other people often asked me what I disliked most about the Army. Was it the regimentation, the food, the officers, - what was my pet peeve? My reply has been very consistent: the pockets on Army fatigue pants.

Are We Worthy Leaders?, William T. Sharp

Manuscripts

Today as never before America stands as the champion of democracy. Again we have successfully defended our democratic ideals against the forces of oppression. Not only have we protected them for ourselves, but it is now our aim to spread this freedom to the less fortunate people of the world who have never enjoyed it before. Our ancestors drenched this land of ours with their own blood in order that we might be a free nation. Now it is our noble purpose to make this freedom universal.

Before we set ourselves up as an example, let us look over our …

My Most Enlightening Teacher, R. W. Conerty

Manuscripts

My profound apologies go to all my academic teachers of the past, because of all the men and women who have earnestly endeavored to help enrich my meagre store of knowledge, none could I classify as enlightening as when I first went away from home and met the wisest teacher of all I'd met, namely, life.

Annie, Elsie Stefan

Manuscripts

"Ya'd goods on the fo'th floor please. 'ello? No, I'm sorry, we 'aven't any gingham today." On learning that L. S. Ayres' has no gingham, you put the receiver down, but your curiousity still is not quite satisfied. For that melodious, half exotic voice on the telephone leaves you wondering and puzzled as to its origin, and you resolve to satisfy your curiousity the next time you visit the yard goods department. There, answering the telephone and working in the inspection desk, you will find Annie Crich.

Reunion, Janice Skinner

Manuscripts

It was a typical college reunion. The class of '31 was packed into alcoholic layers around the smoke crowned bar. The smell of good bourbon was filtered with laughter and blended with those odors women buy at from two to twenty dollars a dram. Typical.

Daisy Wings, James L. Adams

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

A Half-Spread Wing, Allyn Wood

Manuscripts

Sunday. Breakfast and lunch eaten; a magazine read; the apartment tidied, as a man alone does it, with deliberate delicacy. There is something exotic in his movement, and about the room, which is produced by the placing of ordinary things; and everywhere is evidence of a long and careful striving for homeyness as a spiritual ideal. Where eyes have met the lonely space of walls, pictures hang - but do not look at them: he seldom does. Squares and rectangles become companionable, and being so familiar, are scarcely seen, their purpose forgotten. So that when he desires space, with an …

Truth And Dare, Barbara Gene Lucas

Manuscripts

The June sun beat steadily down upon the gravel school yard as the children ran out to play for the last time before vacation. The little girls with their hair flying dashed helter-skelter over the playground, and the boys brought out their baseballs. On one side of the yard in the shade of the library building stood a row of ten-year-old girls. They were members of "The Gang," an elite club composed of Republicans only and those who could stand to have their thumb bent backwards without flinching. In front of this rank stood the leader with her hands on …

The Spoon, Mary Alice Kessler

Manuscripts

Mary closed the big wooden door carefully and waited for the click that locked it. She walked slowly across the gravel schoolyard, kicking the largest rocks with her foot. She counted each step ... one ... two ... three ... four. On fifty, she climbed over the low iron fence surrounding the yard and stood quietly as if she were listening for something.

The Woman And The Working Girl, Jean Farson

Manuscripts

Brynn hurried along the sidewalk. She could hardly see through the slippery, foggy shadowy her way air that enveloped East Barnes Street. A fine rain still came down in a slow monotone, and nothing in the city of Wellington seemed to be dry at all. Brynn cast a glance at her watch, and quickened her steps, her green transparent raincoat crackling, as she hurried to catch the eleven o'clock bus. Mr. Dwyer shouldn't have kept her working so late on a night like this--

Sea Song, Jan Skinner

Manuscripts

The boy should have been hurrying home from school. The sky was dark with that peculiar greyness that foretells a storm, but the boy, tall and lank, was ambling along the sidewalk, looking up at the moody skies eagerly, expectantly, as if he was about to see a friend.

Rhyme For A Volume Of W. H. Hudson, Allyn Wood

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Pastorale, Mary Alice Kessler

Manuscripts

CHORUS:

We chant of an age

A trim, nervous

Time Squared into precise line,

Sheer mathematics, a flawless steel claw.

This is the time of soaring monuments

This is the time of formulae pyramids

This is the time of shining mechanism

This age is dwarfing its sire.

Front Matter

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Volume 13, Issue 2: Full Issue

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.