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

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TIME Jody Ashlock Time is A grotesquely mean, laughing face, telling you to hurry. It is looking down upon you, torturing you with that hideous grin. And you try to escape it by running away. But it is impossible to escape time. Time is always there, incessantly pressuring you. 0051 TIME Robin Burrell Time is forever. Time is without meaning until one's long and productive life comes to an abrupt end. It is like the older brother of mankind, always watching down upon the human race, with far more knowledge. Also time is knowing that it will not end with the passing of one's lifetime. But rather, continuing through the countless eons of time in the future. TIME James Hollenbeck Time is like an empire, Simple at first, Then getting more complicated. Then rising to its apex Beginning its descent Down, down, Faster and Faster To its last second 'Q TIME Rich Heitman Time is something you feel. It's that slowness of movements the aching of the knees, and a confusion. It's a time of suddenly growing older minute by minute. Time comes slowly like a tired turtle, yet it arrives like the swiftness of the hare. Time catches you thinking the thoughts of yesterday. Or was it the day before? Time shows you T7 T iraqi P r' Q , 'Y' 'ss 0 W, 'o' s' ' 1 S . r 1 O I it v sv v 'I is 'I 0 4 S 4 S what you've done, and what you're doing in a comparison like that of day and night. Time is someone laughing at old daydreams and degrading old memories. Time is one of the cruelest of friends and the evilest of masters. TIME Craig James I talked to time the other day. He was quite a mixed up person. He told me he was about through, that he was just about ready to run out. He told me his food supply, electricity was running out. He was bitter. He said we wasted it all away. He said it was time to quitg peo- ple didn't care about him anymore, that they took him for granted and were always wasting him. He said he would get even, that he would quit soon, and maybe someday start again, at the beginning. TIME Cindy Bauserman I have felt it pierce my body in a cloudburst and drain it in the summer sun, I have tasted it in the winter as snow falls on my tongue, and in theyocean breeze as it splashes in my face. I have sensed it in the fragrance of a forest, and felt it sting in my nostrils in the city. I have seen it flash across the sky in lightning and journey across it as galaxies. I have heard it echo endlessly in the caverns and in the soft murmers of the wind through trees. I have known it as it passes, realizing that I am only an atom in its universe of life.

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sh THE FORGOTTEN PAST James Hollenbeck There was once a nation, A proud nation. Everybody sang it in songs Of praise and joy. Then the nation grew, Pushing a group of people West, Back and back. This group of people decided one day They had it, So they dug in and fought the oppression. But the war was futile. More and more of this invader cameg Guns, cannons and disease. Oh what horror as they watched Their homeland raped and scarred. Factories pouring poisons about, Animals, once plenty Now few. This group of white and black oppressors Killed their home. Why, why did they do it? Didn't they enjoy the clean air, Didn't they love the land, Didn't they care? The group of people became Vain and bitter And the living died, For their land and home were lost. Now after the tears have dried up For a land and hope forgotten. The people who were robbed and cheated Raped of their life, culture and home, Shall return angry With bitterness In their hearts. AN APOLOGY James Hollenbeck Let us apologize to the Indian. We're sorry we took your land, We're sorry we took your pride away. We're sorry that we are Discriminating against you We're sorry that we have Raped, destroyed, multilated and killed your land For progress. We're sorry you're locked up on some reservation. But that's Progress. Is there any way we can say We're sorry? THE HANDICAP Kathy Stauffer These bars hold me-from you, The one I loveg Why canit I unlock the door So my words can float to your ears- Mute. CONFUSION Kathy Stauffer The hectic mess the world is in- Each door of life that I open Seems like a bummer- Whether it be heart broken over some guy Or my brother being killed in a land that was supposedly at peace- Everyday I live, each path I choose- Each door I open is bad. Ifl could only take a small peek at the future Maybe I would choose the right door next time.

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MOODS OF SILENCE Jody Ashlock Silence can be beautiful If it is a Silence filled with love. He looks at her and they speak, without words, but knowing exactly what the other is saying. Silence can also be ugly if it lacks love. It means there is Nothing left to say. So he ignores her And she avoids him and they won't have to fight the uncomfortable Silence. WEATHER Craig James The weather, it differs As March does from May, Making you wonder, What's coming the next day. If it's windy you know By the rustling of trees, And also from the dust, Which blows rather free. If it's rainy your day Seems locked up in gloom. But the minute the sun's out, It starts with a boom, The weather it changes And though it seems unfair, It's all part of nature So always beware THE WAR Debbie Andrews I heard a father saying, He said that he'd found a plan To end all the wars of man. But nobody cared. He asked them to drop their guns, To come home and love someone, To watch corn in the morning sun, Where children play. I'll never hold a gun for them, It's the blackest nights I see, There is so much work To do at home, When your mind is full of grief. Oh, when will they send my brother home, So he can be free With me? Jody Ashlock I hope you love me someday 'Cause Ilm your Enemy And I love you. DAY DREAMS Jody Ashlock I sit in this classroom my mind is unscathed by any other thought processes going on in the room For I am in my own world And none of them can touch my mind which is so far away. l . ll- .Q '-4 , ri, ' ' P I Jfdrgox His. . 1. THE IDEA James Hollenbeck An idea can be like a bomb, Explosive. Or like a dream, that vanishes Without a trace. Sometimes it's a forbidden, dark secret Hidden from light and ridicule. Ideas are wonderful and fateful, Spreading like an infection, Or rising and falling like a flood, Leaving only signs and remains Of a once empire. Debbie Andrews My world is like the earth, Sometimes I am covered with grief, Like the snow covered grass.