University of Windsor - Magister Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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INDECISION I live this world from day to day And as I wake each morn' I sayg I wonder what to-day will bring To make me smile or laugh or sing. The chambers of my mind protest Of thinking any less than best. Do you think that I should change And give myself a bit more range? Allowing me to plan my years And help to overcome my fears Of what the times ahead will be I thank the Lord that I can't see! Kathy Charlton Form 2 WIPE OUT The source the same The problems of this life remaing Mr. Tisdale had some pets, Mealworms - by name The five we had - death they met But in ways not all the same. The torment of its vice Four were put in water And we thought them to be drowned. However, after being charged, Only one was dead - we found. But most of all But then three worms suddenly Met up with tragedy: A lamp-stroke was the source Of their malady. Because this I know I do not understand Except it be That man is very weak That there be moments When he puts aside his Before the class was finished Two more had been burned. So now our number upped to five Mr. Tisdale learned. Pain, destruction, fear, All find their being in that clear But often murky sin of man. O that man could escape To flee its overpowering hold- The warping of the mind The blackening of the soul. But there is Hope for man God Turns away from the strength therein Letting the Devil's destructive powers win. Thus destroyed, man turns in shame to God But now's the time we'd like to plead Forgiveness from the class, And from our masters, Mr. T. , Because our year - we want to pass. To seek the world. God forgives--but does More so--should we?'? Marg Kosa 81 Linda Lambert Form 4 71 To seek forgiveness--not only for the sin itself But for the back he turned he also forget? Diane Akerman Form ll

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ON DEATH Death - Be not proud. For you are like the snow That covers the once fresh Greenery of Life. Like cold bitter winds that carve Disembodied forms from its mass, Then breathe on the corpse of the earth. Dead secrets lie beneath you, Their limbs tearing for Resurrection. Have you come here to torment us Before the Time? Why do you speak to us in the dark With the dead cry of Life? Speak it in the light. You are not my master Beelzebub! You create a brotherhood of souls In a black room, Opened only with the key of Life. Sin! . Blood! I-late! Waste! The clock moves forward Then backwards. Around, around. Confusion about us. Which way to turn! Which way to go! Death - Be not cruel Tears terminate grief I can cry no more. I will not give you that satisfaction! Be gone! Oh demon of Destruction! Take with you the Amber glow of Hell And the dusky haze of grey. I have seen too much. Someone finishes dying. Some one begins. Once born - Once lived - Once dead. - Karen Strong Form 8 I turn my eyes You cannot see The question that dwelleth there The tears that come from deep inside Knowing that for you I care The untold things I can never share Things that you'll never know If only I could understand Someday perhaps I shall For now in answer to one's prayer I'll dwell in silence please. You ask me if I cry Lord only knows How much And why! Diane Akerman Form ll PALO The night was opal As we journeyed To the very depth Of our souls. Our limbered figures Clung closely to this life As conscience beckoned us on, Then recalled the senses to normality We were as children at Play In a world of Obscurity. So small, so menial - Yet so real. The forbidding cries Played a rapturous melody. One of dismay? No, No My friend. One of deep meaning So deep that we were engulfed With its every tone. Whispers echoed repeatedly. It would do no good to listen. That nightg that Opal night, was born Outcasts. Karen Strong Form 8

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