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Page 20 text:
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me, and a painless relief enveloped me. Was this death? It was rebirth! I had lost my life and gained it again, My form, my soul, was almost crushed, but I had one branch still reaching to the sun. The sun forgave my proud stiffness and once again the tingle of flowing sap, life, overwhelmed me. Now, my form - the twistings of a single branch - is simple like a child's. Today I look on the same rippling sea of green life and feel beneath me the rock created by time and hope that humans as well as trees will search after the Sun. Cathy Campbell Form V :rw :-mi Doomed am I who stands on the precipice of the world, Gazing down upon the crumpled earth. My wings yet untried, ruffle and spread, And I fling my body without mirth, To the endless years of my re-birth. Soaring over the cliffs of time, Their rugged faces peering through the clouds, I swoop down towards a Kingdom Of verdant valleys, and stately trees bowed Before their creator with gentle awe endowed, Our hesitant glance, then upwards towards eternity, In sheer joy I glide towards the guiding light, My wings are strong, my path is steady, Oh! the freedom of this glorious flight! One gallant swirl, and I have attained yon home of might. Elaine Wadham Form VI om.. In a distant somewhere of green, A beauty-scented acre of warm retreat, She lay in self-devised cxileg Exuberant with joy of banishment From the perverse existence beyond those grassesg Devastator of man's golden image. Discovered she, this treasured plot of virginity, Untouched by civi1ization's bungling movements. . . . And soft was her thought of a moment far gone Recalled in this houred perfection, Though transient was such perfection For false was her dream: A time when man cared nothing of black and white Neither caused he the necessity for escape In exchange for this fleeing perfection. Shirley Litch FormV 17'.5' Flip!!! .i f -fi-x 9006 .SIA -cv fx M041-'ffiVff. up oo 0 I '35 X 4 HG. Full Many a Flavia Ten white faces staring blankly Empty tummies filled with little nothings Trite cliches Dangling participles Amalgamate discussion into oblivion. I-Iaphazard hands clutching minute threats to life Caffein trickling below to torture threadbare minds Four walls Denied doors Outward vision concealing inward tears. Sounds of singing desperately tuneless Go girls abominably obscure Crawling meanness Straight-laced seclusion Conditioned for a clock-work world. Elspeth Dempster Form VI
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Page 19 text:
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A cv-0 '3 - . gp... ,,,,-......-......-.-...-....... X, -at-v'-Z -.--F 3---ai'-..--.,. ..ai1---1...--Q.-...vu-n ef -1 Lf -Y LIT! AKY 1' rm gram My roots cling to a scarred granite cliff in the Canadian northland. The Canada I know is not that of the rush in man-made cities but is the timeless immensity of nature. I have not felt or seen the devastating touch of the human hand. I stand alone overlooking the rolling forests. The sun is not trapped between skyscrapers or hidden by smoke but is re- flected by the tiny lakes and its influence is felt by all. My neighbours are the trees, animals, rocks, and insects that constitute the world of nature. Around me lie the multitudes of this different world and beneath my feet lie an eon's history, for I am a solitary jack pine standing on the peak of a cliff. My race's life is based on the sun as your race is based on the love of money. Without the sun, creation is non-existent and without a creative force one is dead. Christians believe that their Son is the creative force in their lives. My soul is produced in a search after my sun. All trees are composed of bark as skin, whether white or brown, of sap or blood, and leaves or needles as clothes, yet there are never two of us alike. Our differences lie in our shapes. My trunk and branches have been twisted in all directions in a search for the sun. Unlike a human whose soul is hidden under layers of personages, our being can be seen by all. Sunbeams have moulded my character, my form. The development of my form is my history. By studying my shape one can understand and know me. I began as a seed, a pine cone hidden in the ground - by a squirrel busy in preparations for winter, yet very forgetful of his caches. For a winter I lay in the warm soil of mother earth's womb. I felt my first sunbeam early in spring and my search after the sun began. The granules of moist earth fell from my form as my head felt the first rays of sun. As each succeeding ring was added about my trunk, my shape was changed. My branches formed, grew, extending their arms ever outward, my roots spread further away, seeking pockets of soil, and my head always pushed heavenward, towards the sun, Battles with snow, tain, and wind hardened me. With each successive storm, another member of our stand was lost. One cold, blustery night I lost the last of my companions. As the wind wailed around us he murmured, Beware: your test- ing is yet to come ! With a loud creak it split, crash- ing to the hard cold rock and Ibecame the solitary jack pine on that cliff. Before my testing came, I felt the cold of winter seeping into me, freezing my sap, enjoyed the quiet rest of the long dark days, and was again thrilled by the sun creating life within me. It was late in an August evening when the clouds which marched forward with a sound like the steady rumble of tramping soldiers. I tensed despite my education and my warnings to stay supple. Protection? None. I was alone facing the assault of the heavens. The storm drew near unhesitatingly. Then suddenly a sound came from heaven like a rush of a mighty wind and the sky was aflame with tongues of fire . I bent and swayed but the grip of my roots was loosening. Then I was falling. There was a resounding crack. I felt the wind whistling over me, no longer through
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Page 21 text:
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o '67 After Canada was awarded the honour to have a world exposition, it was decided to have the exposition at Montreal. The site of Expo '67 covers one thousand acres, is the biggest exposition ever to be held, and is staged in a peninsula and two islands, all of which are mainly man-made. Quoting Sir Basil Spence it is a modern Venice in the St. Lawrence, To make Expo '67 possible, we required forty million dollars: enough rock and soil to equal that of the Great Pyramids: and fifteen months of hard work. The theme of Expo '67 is Man and His World . Expo allows its visitors to see the accomplishments of man in the past, those of today and what may be in the future years. The pavilions range in size from America's geodesic dome to Thailand's gilded shrineg the exhibits range from a Dead Sea Scroll to Elvis Presley's guitar, There is a tiled Tunisian mosaic from second century to a model city of the twenty- first century. A sub-theme of Expo '67 is Man the Creator . To represent this aspect of Expo '67, there are two hundred of the world's greatest art treasures from The Louvre and Leningrad's Hermitage. Types of art range from primitive Orientals to Rembrandt's paintings to Jackson Pollock's abstractions. Man the Producer is represented by the advances from the Water wheel to a fully automated factory which turns out television sets, and from a Model T Ford to a car-for-tomorrow from Italy. Man the Ex- plorer shows man's search for knowledge. In this exhibit you walk into a human cell. Canada is one hundred and what better way is there to celebrate it other than a birthday party such as Expo, and what better word is there to describe Expo, other than supercalifragalisticexpialidocious. Janis McKeag Form IV ?du6owayA Mr. Jangle, the juggler Who dances on Sundays, In the ginger-warm sun singing Songs from the Bell Tower, telling tales To the Market Square, Full of the summer Coloured like planets, And smelling high-heavenlyg Mr. Jangle, the juggler Who dances on Sundays, Chanting his rhymes out, Singing his bells out. For the Good Man Peters and their tree - eyed Wives and children, For a marvelous joy, Listening with all their ears, For they have plenty of time To give to Mr. Iangle, The juggler who dances on Sundays. Anne Morton An Expo official says, We want to feel like Form V participants, not mere observers, For a total-ex- perience firm, visit Labyrinth. This has been called a stupendous trip sans LSD, At the Telephone Pavilion, the illusion of standing at the edge of A I Niagara Falls is so real that railings have been provided to hang on to. There are seventy restaurants, one hundred and Fhckering sixty-seven snack bars at Expo. Besides common food yet stint of hot dogs, there will be such exotic foodstuff as Dangmg Thai nightingale and Norwegian smoked reindeer. yet motionless' The six outdoor band shells will be rocking non-stop. Teffifmg La Ronde, the amusement centre, covers one hundred Yet Calming' and thirty-five acres. I ean Drapeau says Expo has Eene 1 something for everyone, yet Comfoffmsi Expo '67 is the first fair to provide free trans- Beautiful portation for the masses. The parking costs are low Yet ugly, and most of the pavilions are free. If you are Imficate standing, chances are that you will be entertained Yet Simple- by minstrels. Turning the entrance gates thirty- five Extraordinary million times will be eleven million, seven hundred thousand people, of which fifty-five percent will be Americans. yet common. I anis McKeag Form IV
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