Branksome Hall - Slogan Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

Page 29 text:

Though it seems just another day, Once that minute has crossed your way, It won t knock on your door again. Simonetta Lanzi, 12R4 THE FOE Silence seeps into my ears, A blurred and rushing sound. No need to hear the grating sea - Such laughing silence spars with me. Jane Moes Memories flooding sharply in and tearing at the tender flesh of my heart, Rupturing the cool sanctuary of routine life and hurtling me backwards. It digs deep, twisting cruelly and I wince with the pain of times remembered. The jagged fragments of the past rush in and break my controlled countenance. POEM FOR A FRIEND You asked me to write you a poem What could I say? I thought you wanted to catch a star. You smile but don ' t give me an answer. I haven ' t figured you out yet. I don ' t think you have figured me out yet either What can you say? I don ' t expect an answ er-just a smile. Yo u can catch a star. yo po Here is ur em. Rebecca Upjohn, Grade 13 My emotions burst and I run for safety. Martha Wilson Grade 10 25

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I ' m Often It ' s I ' m I ' m not I too not not one get hard 100% one for carried for sure for long away me if long lines with to you lines of long say are of love lines how ready love poetry of I for poetry because love really someone but I poetry feel like I know because about me love that I you or you love know in not as can that these but much only love long I ' m as be can lines ready I written be of for would not hard love someone love felt to poetry like you or read because you in seen in you ' re to short in short so be lines long lines much ready of lines and shorter for love of love than someone poetry love is I like only poetry. strange. am. me. more. TIME Once you asked me why she ran, Yet she is running still, And her determination wins And dominates our will. So why do we compete in such A futile race of strife, Which only ends up shortening Her grip on our short life? Martha Younger Grade 12 A white ball that bounces across the table from one side to another, tiringly monotonous, hushing magically in a gentle twirl, like the thoughts in my mind that spin wildly toward the far-away goal of peace and serenity achieved by well-timed control and the word of a true friend who I thought had been lost. Sarah Ondaatje, Grade 13 Simonetta Lanzi

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STORY EMPTY FRIENDSHIP The rain continued to drizzle, as if trying to ex- tinguish the burning lights of the neon signs. While sheltering under the canopy of a leather garment retailer, Richard tapped his foot impatiently against a grimy garbage bin. Oranges, pinks, reds and blues bounced emptily off the darkness of the crowded Avenue. Tom was twenty minutes late for their appointment and Richard was considering whether to enter the saloon alone or return to the subway un- satisfied. He glanced again at his scratched Timex and dented the bin with a last desperate swing. Tom dodged under the canopy, hands in his pockets, grinning. Richard glared at him. Did you bring your brother ' s identification? was his solitary greeting. Tom ' s grin slid into a frown and, as he dropped his head to examine his stained Kodiacs, he mumbled a negative response. They ' ll never believe that you ' re eighteen without I.D.! I can pass because I look mature, but they ' ll think I ' m baby-sitting you, cried Richard as he fingered his new mustache with pride. Tom turned from him to contemplate the display window full of leather accessories but his attention was held by the electric reflection of the nude girls springing back and forth across the parlour windows on the opposite side of the street. Facial hair doesn ' t prove your maturity level, especially your meagre collection, but Tom ' s voice was drowned by the obnoxiously loud stereo music of a black cruising car that rolled past the pair. Richard knocked Tom away from the window with his shoulder. If you don ' t want to come, don ' t. I ' m going to go in now, alone or with you, it makes no difference to me, but Richard only continued to pace the distance under the canopy. Tom turned back to the window and pressed his hand against the cool glass desperately. He removed it, finger by finger, and watched the window consume the damp rings of his prints. He turned and faced Richard. Coming? Richard was almost begging. Tom nodded unconvincingly and his friend ' s eyes lit up. Richard victoriously moved out into the crowd moving on the sidewalk, Tom followed. There he stalled, turned again and was lost in the mass. Grinning, Richard marched on towards the saloon. Fiona Sampson The harsh rays of the cynical sun smiled cruelly down on the dregs of emptiness. The light caught the tiny water drip-droplets as they performed acrobatic stunts from branch to branch, from bare limb to bare limb until they finally fell, exhausted and defeat-stricken only to form cohesive domes on the hell-hard, im- permeable ground. What a sight, whispered Mrs. Carter under her breath. The click-clickety-click of the small, sharp-nosed pebbles banging the underside of the car greatly con- trasted with the quiet hypnotising burr-num of the engine. Roz sat rigid, straight-backed, straining for- ward, then sideway s from her tightly drawn seat-belt as she attempted to devour the passing landmarks. How many more minutes till we ' re there? she repeated again, inquisitively. About ten square miles, I ' d say. The fire marshall directed his men in squads of four persons. C ' mon. Get a move on, men. The ground un- derfoot was dead-dry. They rushed around in chaotic order. Dead shrubs crunched and cracked. The distant hiss of the flame became sharper and clearer as they drew nearer the scene. The thick snake-black hose hissed too in a futile attempt to drown out the hiss of the dancing, devil-red flames. The water shot into the air. Is there a river there mom, huh, a water fall? No, dear. How much longer? Look, over there, look at them all. Roz pointed to the goldenrod growing at the side of the road. The road became flat and straight - monotonous. Goldenrod grew alongside the road: goldenrod and goldenrod. Roz impatiently sank back into the blue plush interior. Her sparkling, star-bright eyes wandered back and around and she rolled her head from side to side. How come the dots on the roof make me feel like the roof ' s two inches from my head? I don ' t know, dear. Look, we ' re almost there. See the hill just up ahead? The woods are just to the other side. The car door slammed shut and Mrs. Carter stood motionless, eyes fixed on the bleak scene ahead of her. Roz sat in the back seat and fidgeted with the covering on the head-rests, while the harsh rays of the cynical sun smiled cruelly down on the dregs of emptiness. Sue Farrow 26