Center Point High School - Pointer Yearbook (Center Point, IA)

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Kathy Stauffer The white clouds have often reached out to me- But I cannot touch them. Nor can I touch the reality of my dreams. Musing Craig James What am I? I am an object. I think of myself as a pebble on a vast desert, Wandering about on a huge vacuum. Was I meant to be? Is the Almighty my creator or am I a mistake of nature's laws? Everything seems so complicated, As if an architect designed me and the world in which I live, I am curious, Like a small child trying to walk and wondering why he can't. I am competitive, Like this child, who will not give up until his goal is reached. If my curiousity fails me and I never find out what I am, I can say I tried, and continue to wonder. But if I succeed, I can rest like an army that is marching home from victory. Julie Hannen These be things I have in me: a mind to solve problems and ponder on happenings, a heart to hurt when no one is here, a pair of eyes to see tears and paing and a soul to live, and feel free to live. THE LOSS Debbie Andrews An abrubt accident Affects abnormal anger, Behind big brother's bandages Bulge bad bruises, Caring catches, Cautious chagrin. Death delivers deplete deprivation, Detracted departed. TREES Cindy Bauserman Implanted Beneath your feet are the untold Stories of decades of Misfortune, yet held among Your ever reach- ing arms are the unwritten ballads of dreams to come. James Hollenbeck I wish people were like bricks In a building. All equal size, shape, and color. All united Forming one. CLOUDS Debbie Andrews A white mass in the sky, Soft as cotton, As if it was a fluffy, fresh Piece of popcorn, Just waiting to melt in Mr. Weather's mouth, So delicate that the sunlight Falls through, And comes down to warm the sky. EARLY SPRING SHOWER Kathy Stauffer The night is especially dark. It's as if an opaque blanket was tossed over the stars and moon. The chilly wind is blowing hard. The bare branches of the trees are swinging back and forth as if they were dan- cing. Then there is a flash of lightning and a roar of thunder, followed by the soft droplets of water falling to the ground. THE FLAME Julie Hannen Leaping up into nothing. Cowering back in despair, Never still. Its rings of color, bounce, and jump as if alive, Causing wax to change forms again and again. Burning, burning, until finally extinguished. Only to be lit in a different time and place.

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Cindy Bauserman I long to be a stone in a mountain stre am, feeling the icy fingers of melted snow flow over me. I long to walk through the clouds, stumbling and falling over large blllowv puffs of softness. I long to sit upon a rosie bl velvet petals. ossom and curl up between its I long to rush on the wind through grasses and trees and feel them ripple and sway with laughter. I long to see you smile just one more time. GREEN Julie Hannen Grass is, Green is the God of the inner earth, filling each plant with life, causing their continuance in the Green sees many happenings through the small eyes of cats. Green is like the Army, cycle. depicted by one person or a thousand, unified, or disconnected. Green is bold as a young soldier, yet soft as a rose petal. Green makes impressions on those who watch it coldly, yet never is overbearing. Green is. Cindy Bauserman A whistle blows, I run to the door But the highest hopes can crash to the floor. Another day has come and passed- that other letter must have been the last. It's only been weeks b t d , u ecades it seems I can imagine their lives, but only as dreams. A spark of joy would quickly ignite, If they'd only take the time to write. WHAT IS A VICTORY? James Hollenbeck Is a victory something like When another army crushes another? Or is it when innocent people Are mutilated and killed? Maybe when two or four million Lives are snuffed out, Like Hiroshima and Nagasaki? Or maybe it's like the charge of the Light Brigade when An army was annihilated. Sometimes victory comes slow Maiming and killing and destroying. Victory is a strange word For annihilation. LAUGHTER Craig James When I laugh, not always is anything funny. Some- times I laugh just to prove to myselfl haven't forgotten how to. IT'S BEEN A LONG DAY Richard Heitman Plop, I failed again Trying to write something One more try, One more cry, And it's empty paper and pen again. I've been sitting and thinking for some time But I can't think of anything to write My grammar is bad My spelling is sad And I can't make any of the words rhyme. I sit down to try once more And fail as I failed before So I give up without anything to say Except what the heck, Itis been a long day. TUESDAY'S RAIN Debbie Andrews Days like today give me an open mind. I always know what I'm trying to find. Time to take a walk And discover my thoughts. To find my true feelings for people And untangle the knots. Just kind of sprinkling, And not too breezy. About the right time to go take it easy, Walking down the road in my tennies, With water squishing through, Thinking about the time, I walked down it with you . . SELFISHNESS Kathy Stauffer I call myself an adult but I act so childish. I tossed him away like garbage because I was finished with him for awhile, But now that someone else wants him. I want to claim him for myself-again.

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Richard Heitman Long day Hard day I feel as if I might drift away. My soul is rid Of all the pressure And fills up a space Too large to measure. I feel that I might Go far and wide Or maybe Iill turn And look to the inside Long day Hard day I feel as if I want to drift away. JAMIE FLANNIGAN Gary McNeal One cold night in Dublin, Ireland, an old man with short, stubby whiskers walked into O'Conners pub. His name was Jamie Flan- nigan. He was a big man, some said he was 6 feet tall, and he weighed around 210 pounds. He had a big belly. People said that his big belly was from all of the beer he drank. You could tell he was a fighting man, from his scarred face and crooked nose. Perhaps he was defen- ding his honor, for he was a poor man, his farmer's shirt was frayed at the sleeves and the pocket was torn off. Now while he was in the pub, he was having a grand old time, not seeming to care about anything. Once he even got up to dance an Irish jig, resulting in everyone buying beer, so he never had to spend any of his few but precious coins. When he left, it was one o'clock, and when he was walking home at this late hour, he began to whistle a song that his mother used to sing to him when he was young. The next morning after waking up bright and early, he walked all the way back into town to go to work in the stable. He had to feed, clean, and tend to the horses. That night instead of going home he decided to go to go to the pub and have a beer. But when Jamie got there and asked for a beer, the bartender said, Sorry, but I'm not go- ing to serve you until you pay your bill from last week-end, Then Jamie said, Everyone bought drinks for me and I don't have to pay for them.'l The bartender said, You're a liar Flanniganln With a single leap, Jamie was over the counter, and with his Irish temper he was hitting the man. All of a sudden the police came in and took Jamie to jail. The police charged him with disturbing the peace. So Jamie was faced with this charge and the court ordered him to pay damages. He had a bail that was too much for him to pay so he had to stay in jail. But one day the officer came to his cell and said that he could go free because the bartender had payed the bail for him. When he got outside, the bartender said he was sorry and said that he was wrong because the men who had bought him the drinks had told him. So the bartender said, You don't have to pay the fine for breaking up my place, and if you will allow me I will buy you a drink. Jody Ashlock People are always saying, Live for today. But if you limit your mind To that extent you will miss the whole point of life. For one must dream . . . Once must have that ultimate goal to live for. METAMORPHOSIS Craig James The Johnsons were new in Virginia, and didn't know any people. After they had moved in and had settled down, Mrs. Johnson suggested that they meet a few of their neighbors. Since there wasn't any formal towns in those days, and roads were scarce, they would have to go through the woods to see if there were any people living close to them. They had gone about six'miles and were about to give up hope when Mrs. Johnson spotted a weather worn house in the dis- tance. The time was about 7:00 at night, and it was almost pitch dark. As they got closer, they began hearing wolf-like sounds and as they got even closer, they could see four dark figures like dogs. Final- ly, Mr. Johnson realized that they were not dogs but wolves, and that they should get out of there as fast as they could. As they got home, they could still hear the wolves howling, so Mr. Johnson got out his gun and fired a few shots and the howls quieted down. The next morning, Mr. Johnson went out to check his four horses. As he arrived at the spot where his horses were, he saw that one was down. As he walked up to the horse, he saw that the horse was dead, and had been torn to pieces. Right away Mr. Johnson thought of the wolves. He went home and told his wife the bitter news and said he was going back to the old house and see if the wolves were still there. He said if he could kill the wolves and sell the skins, he could afford to replace the dead horse. He set off on the journey and came to the old house at about noon. To his disappointment the wolves were not there. He walked up to the house and thought he heard voices. He went up to the door of the house and knocked. The door opened and a large man called, Come in. Mr. Johnson went in and was promptly introduced to the manis wife and two children. Mr. Johnson told the family about the wolves he had seen around the house the night before. The man said that the wolves came around frequently, and they didn't bother anything. Mr. Johnson said that one of his horses had been killed and that he suspected the wolves did it. He said that he was going to try to kill the wolves so he could sell the skins for a profit, and then he could af- ford to replace the horse. The family just looked at him with a funny expression on their faces, and nothing else was said. W When Mr. Johnson arrived home, he told his wife about the peo- ple and she said that they should visit them that night. l Mr. Johnson said that it was a good idea because he thought he might see the wolves on the way. They had been walking about an hour when they approached the house. It was dark and hard to see. As they walked up to the house they heard growling sounds. Mr. Johnson knew at once that it was the wolves. He got his gun ready. As they walked on, he could see the figures of the wolves in the moonlight. He shot one, and the others ran away. As he walked up to the wolf he had shot, he could see that it had been a clean shot right through the head. He decided he could leave the wolf at the peoples house if they didn't mind. He and his wife went up to the door and knocked. Nobody answered. They decided to leave the wolf by the house and come back and pick it up in the morning. When they arrived the next morning, the wolf was 'not there. They went up to the house and knocked. The lady of the house answered and she was sobbing. Mr. Johnson asked the lady if they had picked up the wolf and brought it in the house. The lady screamed in terror, Murdererll You killed my husband! Cindy Bauserman Individualism is what each thinks he has, but looks down on anyone who doesn't wear its duplicate.