Colonel E Brooke Lee Middle School - Cougar Yearbook (Silver Spring, MD)

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V? z Spring Song Erica Greenberg the flowers yell, the birds sing. the wind blows, faintly and fresh, and new. but nevertheless, a reminder of past storms. the clouds dance in the sky. hiding behind the ever bright Paul-Newman-eyes blue. . the sun is at my back, like a warm, close, friend. i feel that if i can just ---- turn aroundrealfastandgrabit ---- i t will always be there, for me every year another, yucky, spring poem is written i admit i'm guilty ---- i must join the list and mine will just get lost in the circular files. but this one's special, if only to me so ---- someone ---- don't ditch it, huh? Rain It's raining outside, i can tell cuz' it drips in through the cracks in the plaster, making a puddle. through the window all i can see is a blur of green. and streaks of brightness from lightning. Ihear the steady rythm of the raindrops falling against the window pane and the lady across the way hollering for her son to bring in the garden furniture. one can feel the thunder swallowing up the houses and streets and people. The dripping is giving me a headache. Erica Greenberg Night Michele Joseph The 'thick blanket of. night covered the small dreary town. The evening breeze flowed gently through its alleys. All was in darkness as Ilay in bed. Blind to its beauty I sat in seclusion straining my ears to hear any unusual sounds of the dismal town. Not a whisper. I felt a strange feeling as if some unseen being was looking upon me. Immediately Istarted to shake and shiver. Loneliness filled the empty room. I shriveled under my blanket feeling like a desolate cricket in a huge forest. Suddenly all was quiet, and I rocked myself to sleep. Yackey Skip Abbott He woke up that morning, and still sleepy-eyed, Looked into the cage. Then he whispered, and cried. The little limp creature, his small rodent friend, Had, during the night, come swift to its end. It wasn't so special, was nothing too big, 'Twas just a small brownish and white guinea pig. But he loved it, and fed it, and gave it a name, And it knew him and squealed with delight when he came And they played little games, and they fought little fights And they slept, cage by bed, on the cold winter nights. Then he dried up his tears, put his pet in a sack, And buried it down by a tree in the back. There was no more to do, there was nothing to say, So he trudged off to school to face the new day. But he'd learned a small bit oflife's cruelest part - Though love warms the living, its death chills the heart. Age Liz Feldman A lonely room, a forgotten face, good times long past, and a solitary voice whispers come again, come again! Just a single face in the forgotten crowd, so hard to stay independent and proud, no one takes the time to care, you'll find that you're left sitting there. The long dull days, the same routine, without a burst of sun, or a sudden gleam. Quiet hours in the rocking chair, - peering out at a world too young to care. life and Death Madelyn Weiss Birth, eating, drinking, doors slamming, minds clashing, loneliness, desolation, happiness, indifference, good, bad, evil, misunderstanding, trying, crying, lying, sighing, peace, understanding, good-times, love, caring, greed, death. Life takes on many gestures, emotions, and faces. Things happen, and keep happening, until death suddenly takes you out of the strange phenomenon that is called life, into its cloak of nothingness. 51 9

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' intra 'I The Folkhero I Am Most Like Elayne Kriss It may be presumptuous of me, but I like to think that Daniel Boone and I have at least a few traits in common. Like Boone, I hate bloodshed and violence but, if neessary, I will stand up and iight for what I believe in. I share with Daniel Boone a love of the outdoor life and the beauties of nature. I think Ihave in me the same restless yearning and spirit of adven- ture which prompted Daniel Boone to seek new ter- ritories to explore. I, too, sometimes feel hemmed in and have a desire to escape to free, more open places. Though the days of the frontier are over, I like to think that Daniel Boone's pioneer spirit lives on in me. What Is Love Rachel Criswell What is love? Is it good or bad? Does it make you happy and! or sad? Can you feel it coming on? And do you know when it is Growing strong? Do you know when it will end? How, why, where or when? Is love like a circle which never Ends, or a puzzle with lots of connecting dots, or is love more like a novel with one specific plot? f,..-- I I To Sleep - Fight I On Saturday night, I could not sleep. The joys of dreams, I I could not reap. My frustration mounting, I I wanted to weep. Out of the window, I felt I could leap. 3 I uttered a word, I Thus reported as, B1eep! And went to watch the late night movie, I Called THE HORRIBLE CREEP, I But, alas, halfway through, I fell asleep! I I I I I Get Involved in Life Julie Muney Once, on a sweet summer's day, In fact, I think it was May A man, hard at work decided to shirk You can bet that he didn't get his pay. Hey you! Yes, you. What're you doing to help the world? What? Nothing? Don't you think you should? Think about it. Right, you can't do it by yourself. I Get help. I Write letters, get involved! I In what, you say? IN LIFE! I Don't let it pass you by. I I I I I IF I COULD BE A WESTERN GUNSLINGER Elayne IKriss If I could be a western gunslinger, there's no doubt in my mind whom I would choose - Jesse James. Though he was an outlaw, there was a certainIdash about him, an air of gallantry and a kind of reckless- ness that appeals to me. Though he took what he wanted by force, he could be both kind and gdntle. His sense of humor intrigues me. If you must break the law, do it with a smile, and many of yourImis- deeds will be forgiven. I I I I I

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AUTGGRAPHS