Del Mar Middle School - Metamorphosis Yearbook (Tiburon, CA)
- Class of 1974
Page 1 of 44
Pages 6 - 7
Pages 10 - 11
Pages 14 - 15
Pages 8 - 9
Pages 12 - 13
Pages 16 - 17
Text from Pages 1 - 44 of the 1974 volume:
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All my problems I tell to my shower,
All my sins and all my doubts.
The tile advises me on my love life,
And the showerhead nods profoundly.
The bath mat informs me of the rough times ahead.
But the soap dish turns up his nose.
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They called him Colorado
He consisted of muscle and whisky.
He rode slumped inthe saddle
And always slept on the job.
He used to go into town and flirt
With the barmaids at the saloon.
He's married a compulsive nit-picker
Who washes her hands all day long.
Now she's got him onto it.
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The two filing cabinets walked down the street B
like rusted pop bottles 5 Metrgpolis
in a time when bricks were mice. as
Then they turned the corner
and disappeared into the flaming mist. . .
Giant concrete mountains
Their huge shadows bring no light
Only urban darkness.
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The sun seen through a blue glass with drops of water on if
in brilliant white
like a diamond mine enclosed in murky pitch seen by kerosene.
Or pointillistic snow on ski propaganda posters
seen through azure-tinted goggles.
I sat green under the tired trees.
The wind blew grayly and a soft rat crept over my knee.
A horse ran by, as if it makes any difference.
Assuming it was day, the sun shone.
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The First Day ofAutumn
The wind was blowing softly
As it lightly passed me by,
The smokelike misty clouds
Floating, rolling through the sky,
The smell of eucalyptus
Lingering in solemn trees,
While falling leaves were riding
On the light and gentle breeze.
If otherwise, the moon glared sulkily over the trees. QQ 21 1--,g
I thought about the revolution and slept. 4
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An old ship : 491 - talk
Boards peeling, rails rusted.
Around it new ships,
rails shimmering, hulls of plastic coated elegance. tum
The old wreck lost in this shimmering forest. G -XJ
The crane and wrecking ball
Here to do away with this ugly misfit. h V
One smash of the iron ball, the hull is opened. Q E " GI Q
In the midst of splintered wood and dust g. .
A rat smashed by a fallen beam. g - 'I I I
Below him a nest with several babies. f T n, Q ,'
SMASH and that is gone too. M' -- "
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Is there not more importance in some things than beauty itself.
l have a squid.
His name is Sid,
He is very
Nice and pudgy. '
Hejikes to play
With my puppy.
To play with Sid.
He says he is
A good squid. ,
Then we got a
' click, click'
Fish named Hank.
He lives in '
The. same tank.
Hank and Sid
Are all mine.
For alfish and a squid
They dance divine.
But one night
got into a fight.
Sid the squid
could really squeeze'
and forced poor Hank
Down on his knees.
Now Hank and Sid
Are best of friends.
That's how this little poem
Jason Greenwald ,
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Click, click, '
Dice said in the old tramp's hands. '
"He knowshe can't make itg,
Can't even fake it."'
lf , "No way, itis snake eyes! You blew it man!
2 , You, with the bottle of beer inyourvhand, -
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, T T A John Durra
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lthink the furnace is the one
Yes- its him down there
Roaring at the bottom of the stairs
The old hot head s gone '-A4
But he ll shut up in awhile
I hope so
The pompous old ass sits down there
And brags of his Oxford days
About how he saw the queen get crowned
The fiery old fool s reciting Shakespeare again
Yes it s hum
l m sure of it
And he never goes out except
At Christmas time
When he dresses up
As old Saint Nick
He s a nuisance and he knows it
And he turns my hair grey
But his breath is the thing
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That keepsme warm at night
lt fills the rooms with dusty heat
That s stale and bad
And smells like fish l .
For although I relmihdlhim
He forgets to gargle. 1
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Rumbling by, leaving a trail of suffocating dust, T' 6
swinging around the first bend of the muddy course ' X
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ls the GreatMachi.ne, once a mass of gleaming chrome, if
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The rider, balancing-perfectly, uses one leg tobreak the-curve,
Straightening out for the last stretch, and then,
Noise is deafening, powerful,
Tension fills the air, and l hold my breath,
Anticipating . . .
He's flying, gleaming in slow motion,
Briefly lingering, '
Andljust as suddently, finds himself back on
Hard earth, W
Spinning, balancing, back in harmony with
Gravity . . .
Gathering speed, his machine roaring,
The crowd crying out,
l-le lifts his front tireuoff the ground,
Wheelies across the line,
The Harbor Prince is a glow-in-the-dark man,
Dragging himself through the bottles and cans
Doing the backstroke in the enormous bay,
He goes back and forth every day.
The poet writes thelday away.
He writes and writes and never plays.
His pen will scratch andlthen re-rhyme
l'd say at least a hundred times.
And if, at end, it isn't right
To finish it, he's up all night.
Critically his masterpiece
ls then perfected' piece by piece
To send it into printed book
Where literate minds will surely look.
And when at lasthis poem's done
lHe'Il go and write another one.
' Garth Fiieman
Ln - Old Lady
lf her mouth could tell
What memories swell
ln her youthful mind,
' g What stories we'd find!
. But her smiling face T 1
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Becky Gale A I Of adventures lurking behind.
' ik' , Marsha Pope
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I go to school a stranger -- ' ' Iohn Durm
Moving from place to place -- I by
No time to make a good friend, , f Wifi .-fy ' i' I,
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Always by myself, ' fir, if 1 ,JP 7 g A
Always the new girl. V u Ii, sz A '
I come home l 'ii ff ' ' '
To furnished rooms and crowded spaces --
Always to someone else's house.
I 'm not so lonely outithere y l l A
With the redwood tree out back I W
Where the-light comes in at angles I , 1
And the soft wind swirls slowly down. A l i an i A
I sit and lean against the trunk. AC. B . , l
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:In the 11200415 015 buck. is, V Hard, cold shells
J go there oftenl ffl X hiding
'And Cry- 4 l 'l A real feelings,
Portrazt OfA Snake
Slztherzng softly a zephyr caresszng his back
He zdled in a tree
shimmering colors of burning turquoise and jadereflected in the sun,
They are shadows,
distortions of real faces.
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It was his turn. As he took one last look at -the end of the runway,
he couldntt help noticing the imaginary marker near the end of the sandpit, L'
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the marker that had to be passed. He took one lastdeep breath and readied r. 4,
himself. . ,f I
Taking off withla burst of energy down' the runway, hisfeet were barely R f"" , p fi
even touchinglthe groundg instead, it- seemed thatthey were float'ing'in 1, I, , , ly
lfront of him. When he came to thetakeoff point, his whole body flew into Q A
the air. It felt asif someone had scooped him up and was carrying him Q i
past the marker.
Aftera few seconds, he saw loose soil under his feet' and gave one last kick I ' e 62?-i.'
forward tojgive himself moredistance. Landing, he looked back. I I VS ' s
Themarker waslbehind himg he had broken the rocord. ', W K "'f'f"'- i
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Q -E D ' Nobody writes a poem about cigars.
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Qt. with foreign names,
cg, hiding in aromatic boxes of cedar.
Waiting to be opened and burned,
gs I o w l y
by inhibited old men in dark, hot tweed coats.
g ,ft . 71 'fs' Garciajvegas I V
8 surrounded by -thin red cracked lips on a hot mid-summer day.
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- I protruding from the mouths of -sweaty old men,
I If - - fl? ' slowly being shortened until nothing is left at all.
-N .l 'Cl It 'Ii John Durra
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p - f it egofks 0,9 How do violets sound, Street?
, 1 all With golden poppies in, their midst?
i A l . , L 45 A toast tospring-time fever,
V A X ' And the pregnancy of earth.
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i f-1 wil Q " I' -Of honeyesuckled days
. im, 'T WWW .C i s b j 0 A . w And the tzngling Qfmyglegs and arms
YL. E' l 5- Cocooned in gold-spun warmness --
Maroon, Maroon, Maroon 'theirains
On some deserted sands.
1 And, aw, come on, leti's season the greens
Andi bless with the butterscotch of tongues!
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' When I lived in the East the summer brought fishing and hermit crabbing,
humidity and fireflies, Scott's brokenmufflersportscar and sappy willow
trees. I used to go to Karen's house and play cards. Sometimes we would go
to the boywiththetramp.oline's house across the swamp. I never knew .his
name, but just followed Karen. We would ride our bikes or roller skate to
Cuffs, 'the candy store with the owner that hated kids. We could catch .bees jx
with our bare hands in the clover. We played Croquet but Karen always won. tix--
I think 'the game was rigged. I'd' climb to the top of Pat's ropeswing which i
swung out over the fifteen foot hedge that attempted to keep us from the up I
Crabby CVIIUS house 'next door. I played at the eight English boys' -house , .
which always smelled like disinfectant so I didn't ever stay very. long. T
One Summer a forty, foot boat crashed on the beach and all the kids
salvaged it. Candy got us to carry the mast to her ho-use for her raven to
perch on. Thlen' some boys took the toilet 7 and, finally, the firemen came one
brightnight. They lit some fireworks and burned down the boat. The flames
played tag way up in the sky and the Good Humor Man's bell came tinkling
around the cornerand my dad wo'uldn"t letme have anice cream. I had to go
to bed because I wasn't a "big girl. "I cried all night and I 'll never forget it. I
' 15 Harriet King
Margaret Mary Tracy
I .s .', , f 4' Q- ' than at plain Margaret. She and her mother were the type of people who,
I when you walked into their house, made you wash your hands, wipe your
feet, and would, if you touched the walls, beat you. She was the kind of
person who, 'when we made mud pies, would run in the .house and get her
mother's rubber gloves. Margaret Mary Tracy was always getting sick.
Because of that she had bags under her eyes. But the one thing that could
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? ' 4 drive anyone up the walls was her mother's thing about paper. If you went
is Q' into the bathroom and didn't rip the toilet paper along the dotted line you
ll I wereseverely beaten. Her mother would give you the "Tear the Paper on the
tl Dotted Line" speech. My favorite' line out of that speech was, "If God wanted
l g g us to tear it in the middle I-Ie wouldnt have madedotted lines."
9 4-cv F For eleven years I floundered through all the complaining about my dirty
feet and my dirty hands, but I 'm glad torsay that not one bit of it rubbed off
The Pocket Bannin Buechert
I am alittle pocket. I carry things, you see.
But someone stuck his finger in and poked a holein me.
I carryrdimes and nickles, keys and candies too, '
Odds n' ends like rings and things, to mention just a. few. ga la
Nowthat the-hole has happened, there's nothingmore to do.
I really am quite sad, 'cause thepants I fm in are new. X ' U I
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Green mountain range in my bowl,
Vibrations from my Vknife cause rivers ti roug
When my fork breaks yflw' peaks I eel Soffyl
In myimouth, dampness sweet or bitter,
Every humid summer I relish my
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. The Sea Turtle
11 kg your gu'lli'e5.
The summer breeze blows softly
Across the grassy hillside,
Gold grass rippling like ocean waves,
Not wet like water
But more like amaiden's silky hair,
'Glistening in the sun,
Bending in the breeze.
The autumn 'breeze blows harshly
Combing the golden hillside,
.Whispering a warning of winter
With ,ferocious stormy nights
Which spread silent snowy blankets
Over the trembling silken hair.
The -mother sea turtle felt the small eggs she was ,carrying slide ia little
within her. It was time to head for a nesting place. She swam toward the
shore, following the drifting motion ofthe plankton and shrimp. As she
neared 'the beach, the rolling waves caught her and threw her forward.
Finally, she felt the soft, pebbvly sand beneath her flippers. Slowly the
gpregnajnt turtle drew her heavily laden body up the beach. Behind her were
Tleft tirelike tracks to show where she had passed. Underneath at withered
palm tree she stopped. This would be the spot for as nest. The tree would give
shade but as the sun crept across the sky, the shadow would move to give her
eggs the sun's warmth. Flippers made ya rowing motion, throwing sand up in
the air. With a flurry of her hind feet, the excess sand was .pushed away.
Aftermany slow, tedious hours of hard toil, a large hole lay open 'to the
world. The turtle lay over the hole with her hind feet spread wide. Soon the
softshelled spheres dropped in liquidy clumps of twos and threes. They were
as big as ping pong balls but were dented in some places. When no more eggs
gave way, she covered the hole and slowly 'limped away. She was tired and
sore but instinctively knew that if she didn't get to the water soon she would
be too dry to ,ever have a, chance of living. With the same humping gait she
made her way back to the breakers. She didn't once look back. She had
,already forgotteni about the newly forming sea turtles as she plunged slowly
into the moonlit breakers.
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Silence . . .
Stalking the red worm, who trails across, fuzzy and ticlcly . . . fx S
A ,flash of tiny paws
-Worm trapped. . .
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X M Chris Coles
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There -is a pale green lady
Who is sly and -ueryishifty.
She lives by manynames --
Some areten, 'and-five, and fifty.
She curses many women
Andishe steals the hearts of men.
She is the queen of misers 5
lilmpiffgf Who will murder for a ten.
Slglwhmgf Beware of her -- she's deadly-
Green' Brown And Sher mystic touch. is lethal!-
Frog' Formoeney is the magic- curse
Oflall created evil. t
Gail Futoran f
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. , . -Q ' ,. . ,c ,., ,. , AV , I As I walk through the tzoo, at dawn: S
I see the ostrich with its bustle, 5 .
I 'see the swanwith its. boneless neck,
Thelittlebirds with their fluffy spring bonnetsg ,
The flamingo, like a tall sexy girl, swings her hips by
Monkeys are like spiders on their webs,
Afnd giraffes blend infwith the stone wall p
The zebra is like an optical illusion.
I 'rn the only-one who knows ,I 'mihere 1
It's like 'being ina jungle alone.
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Traveling lever so softly,
Flitting lightly over the grass
Down a A
In search of
Spring of emerald4downy milkweed
"Not a worm- in sight. . ."
Touching the ground?
Through the grass
"Hop over and bend down."
Snapped up and killed
Crawling ever so-softly
Down a .
Spring of emerald-downy milkweed
Touch-ing: the ground
Through the grass g
Snappecl up and killed
Flitting lightlyyoverthe grass
ln search of
Something to eat.
"Not aworm in sight. . .
A caterpillar. -
Hop over andbend down.
John Durra Jr
.The sun sinks down' n
T Yb9hl,l"ld'tf19 far-offl hills. A
The still pond water reflects the sky.
Through the quiet rustling of the tall, slender weeds
flutter of wings -
a' lonely cry.
gA small lost duckis seeking'
shelter tforfthe night.
Out ofqthe smalll night sounds
ear splitting '
"Bangf' p n
an echoing Splash.
The srhall duck
has no need for
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vi' ' t we y
HOW .ENG LAN D. LOOKS
Greeng, the hills roll towards
Cornish seas smash TintageI's cliffs and-
T Pound into Merlirfs-Cave.
Green everywhere: grass,Awater, trees, air,'earth'.
Green Shropshire, green Shrewsbury, green Kendal.
Dripping sheep, dripping roofs and dripping windows,
. A .fishbowl landscape.. '
Sky the color of ox-tail soup.
England The anclentness the antiquity.
'44 - 1 ' V I ' '
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Where were you today, Sun,
when we needed you?
You never came out.
P Q It rained so much today
That we were swimming in our backyards.
l guess somedays
You're too shy
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a Thanksito you my neighborhood
W isaswimming pool. r fh 1
11, Q 5 ' I see it floating
' down '
My aunt, so sweet is she,
tNever late for crumpets and teal
Takes her dentures out at eight
And' sets them by her dinner plate.
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11,31 't-: f. .. '12..:::..,251'
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1- -"v -- Jill'
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The Old Gentleman
There he sits
In his black iron coat
Stump legs and no throat
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There once was a lady from White,
g Who acquired a bit of a fright,
While jumping oneday,
She collapsed the souffle
It was a disastrous sight
There he sits A ' fig i
ln the kitchen with me
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l think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as my ski.
A Blizzard Wizzard may be fine,
But a Blizzard Racer is divine. C?
Its hot waxed surface makes it go
Through slush or ice or powder snow.
My super ski and super form
Make sure I win in sun or storm.
Poems are made by brains like thee,
But only fools will ski like me.
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Dracula is a known blood sucker.
Female victims make him pucker.
Flying through the air with the greatest of ease
Dracula appears like a mob of mad bees.
When on your neck you wear a cross,
...., f' You will become DracuIa's boss.
M.B. I '
-W4 Lynn Futoran
Boots W f
Dull and dingy
Worn and dusty,
Cracked and crinkled
Dark tan leather,
ln rainy weather,
Worn out toes
And rundown heels. . .
From now on
l travel by wheels.
Linus-Van Peltf f A
Has a blanket of felt. W
He sucks it all day f
And won't give it away.
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Lifting a careful paw so slowly that hardly any movement can be detected,
the smooth spotted fur rolls from shoulder to shoulder with each slinking
step. The stoney topaz eyes are never lifted from the leopard's quarry. Each
movement is thought out and calculated within that sleek mottled head. Its
long tail hangs at a slope with only the end twitching in the excitement of the
chase. Long dagger-like claws are drawn back behind the short paw fur. Only
when its prey is in its grasp will the rapier teeth close and the claws extend to
finish the kill. Marsha Pope
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The teenage talk , ,Q V I' ' . V Q ' '
Rock, rock around the clock Y , , -, ,
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People dancing HG.,
Some are prancing .
While boys debate
Who it is they want to date.
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It was December 15, a Friday. It was cold outside. I could see fog covering
the town like a blanket, shielding it from the sprinkling drizzle.
I was waiting impatiently to go. It was the night of the dance that might
change my life forever.
We got into the car. The seat was cold against my bare legs. We were on
When I arrived, I was sweating with excitement. In I walked, looking as
chic as possible. The first dance had already begun.
People were grouped in all corners. There were at least 300. Already I
could smell the building perspiration. There was tension in the air when,
suddenly, I saw them huddled together in the center of everyone. I could feel
my face redden. I felt as if I was slowly being crushed between walls of
bodies. I was hot and had to get out. Pushing through the screams and lights,
Imade my way to the door and ran out.
The air felt cool against my face and the drizzle was refreshing. I couldn't
believe it. Here I was only 13 and already instantly jealous.
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