Bishop Luers High School - Accolade Yearbook (Fort Wayne, IN)

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Here And Now My favorite place to be with you is here. My favorite place to be with you is now. Because. although living with memories is nice, creating them is better. Paul Bauman He is a centaur beneath a willow dreaming softly phantasy makes us vulnerable to shooting stars and wishing stars impossible stars that trace their journeys through our hearts and leave us cold or searching, dreamers yet. Vicky Ramirez Smile Like a magnificent white swan moving slowly across the water, let a smile glide upon your face. Seemingly effortless motion dominating the entire scene makes your presence a placid place. Beautifully soft ripples touching an endless destination refreshes things outside your course. The magic of your pleasant smile showing no signs of strain or ending creates a wonderful life source. Paul Bauman What is the Church now — Without a faith to give it existence? A steeple rising from above other man-creations pointing the way to salvation? It was a thing of beauty, once. When its timbers held the one life of many people. Now, only hollow voices echo a faint ghost of what might have been. Jean Knight Cindy Glassley 17

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ND HE SAW THAT IT To lose a poem That you have written Is to lose a part of you. For, when you write, Your heart and soul Your deepest thoughts Are expressed Thru the pen and paper. And when you lose your poem, You lose a part of you That went into writing it. I know, because you see I lost a part of me. Martha Robbins What Is Now? And w hat is now? Now is the present, they say But to have a present, now must have a past All things in life have a past and a now Do all things have a future? Now is the day, soon a yesterday Now is living, soon to be a past From the beginning of time There has been a now. To make the best of now The future must be planned For tomorrow is yesterday ' s future And today is everyone ' s now. Mary LeeGeones cold! free! feeling great! walking at night to clear my brain fresh air to rid me of those cobwebs all over in my head thoughts now running rampant shouting to be let out to be freed, like me this night I really am alive martha robbins GOOD Love and You Each of us love in his own way We each step to a different drummer The love of greed, the love of life Best of all, the love of man. Each man ' s love to himself alone We can ' t see in his mind To know if his love is selfless Or know if God approves his love. We love the best way we know how As we mature, we should love better But we know this and know full well Love for mankind is beautiful. Mary Lee Geones The notes gently filter through the tired mind. They subdue the busy work that forgets it ' s bedtime. I lose myself — temporarily suspended — in the smooth and steady beat. Guitars, violins, all strings vibrating melody. And when the song is finished the tune remains to orchestrate my dreams. 16 — Janet Gildi

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Consider the lonely unicorn He looks dejected and forlorn. A mythical creature some might think While others claim it ' s quite extinct. Even though I ' ve never seen one I don ' t doubt there ' s ever been one. Think of the humiliation If you were such an odd creation. What did Mother Nature do? She gave it one horn ' stead of two. I would not like the shame and scorn That comes from having just one horn. JanetGildea Of Crystalline Jamaica The gold key slipped into the bitter cold lock. A turn and crystalline ice molecules shattered and dissipated. A thick wooden door hinged open into the crusty room. The bachelor removed his key from its prison and dropped it back into a shallow pants pocket. His hat was grapled by an aged hand and placed upon a musty coffee table. The dead-black overcoat found its hook. A stuffy couch wheezed as it accepted its owner. Aged eyelids dropped in relief, and cracks in the old man ' s face receded into nothingness. Culmy eyebrows bushed forward as a ledge of shrubbery and cast wicked shadows over the sleepy eyes. His brow rippled as a sea at unrest. Hollow cheek bones receded to great depths. A jagged nose marked a pinnacle over this rugged terrain. His weary bones settled and folded. He slept. Five hours, seventeen point four six minutes. Eyelids spurted upward! A violent green glow shone from empty sockets, then slipped away, revealing plalinous green globes with opaque white pupils. Weary muscles gave a mighty heave, and the sorcerer sat erect. A filmy smile raced over his lips. He reached his hands out in front of him. They sparkled but an instant, and his whole body was engulfed in a glistening yellow splurr of energy. The light grew, and reached the room ' s borders. And then it was gone. A black-robed figure stood erect in the center of the room. An invisible arm pointed and an ancient doorknob hovered above the ground. He approached, and held. Then, turning it, he pulled it aside as if a door were attached to it. And Lo! Where a doorway would have been, if there was a door, there was an entrance — into golden light. Quite calmly, the sorcerer entered. The doorknob closed behind him. The vastness of infinity bowed before him in the form of the Criankoll Void. Projected by original thrust, the black cloak slipped through the beauteous zone. Yellow globes of warmth lighted indefinitely. Conies tripped by. Everything in this void was weighless, and had motion with direction. The magician pointed a lurid finger at a passing pyra- mid. An erupting flash emitted a half dozen lunes. Hurled in boomerang fashion, they slipped from sight. Very amused by this sport, the sorcerer boarded a passing flat ellipsoid. It shuttled under his weight and, after taking an appropriate new course, continued on. He splashed along, striking objects at all sides. A rare confortium soared by at a speed no less than 1600 m.p.h. An ap- proaching sphere was steered clear of a collision with a blast of mystic energy from the sorcerer ' s palm. The sphere bounded away with renewed force. A web of cosmic energy blocked the way. He hurled a glowing orange spear and sheared an opening in its sticky coils. The sorcerer cackled with horror as he whipp- ed through the opening. He sped under the culmination of a parabolic curve. Hollow triangles spun on a finite plane. 18