Dominican College of San Rafael - Firebrand Yearbook (San Rafael, CA)

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offers a criticism. Then out of the fog comes light. Mrs. Archer ' s enthusiasm, her poetic gift, her critical sense, the flame of her love for poetry kindles the slightest poetic spark in those who are fortunate enough, and faithful enough, to attend her sessions. That she has not used her powers in vain is evident from the fact that five poems written by members of the club were accepted for publication in the National Anthology of College Poetry. We are publishing a selection that pleases us especially from the best that has come out of the Poetry Club. POPCORN TOWN White-fltiffed seed-clouds. Dancing balls in a marble-veined sky! Who would pass through the Janus-portal And view the grease and salt Of rutted streets; Calliope and brass-buttoned monkey Tooting a whistle-dance; Or search for love in two hands Movie-clasped? Marjorie Hansen ' 50 134

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POETRY CLUB ON DAY, five o ' clock in the afternoon. The fire splutters on the hearth in the green room, then burns brightly. The sun shines in the bay window on the round walnut table. The Muses are astir. Six heads bend towards a ruddy-cheeked Scottish woman, her Highland green eyes darker by contrast with her shining white hair. Listen to this, she says, and then she reads a stanza from one of the latest war poems. It is Kate Rennie Archer who is presiding over the Poetry Club, which has continued with even greater interest than that of last year. Now, girls, remember this. You must have clear thought behind what you say, and your expression must be natural, not strained or old-fashioned. No ' tises, no inversions, no cliches. Now, what have you brought me this week? Forth come the manuscripts; Mrs. Archer listens. This is good, she exclaims, as the first verses are read. If you keep on you will go to town, you can publish. But now, let us see. Here ' s an inversion. Where was that spear of grass? How did it grow at this particular place? You must have an idea or a clear impression behind what you say. Now, everybody, think. And forthwith comes a revision. What do you think of this phrase, girls? Someone 133

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MODERN POETRY Shallow, blue-white as new-skimmed milk. Of no lasting quality, nor rich full depth, Touching on expression, surface feeling. On some thin passing fancy of a thought; It lasts no longer than the fleet Fancy quickly spoken of. You who have ever felt the pulsing throb Of love, the hollow dragging depth of loss. Who know the weight, the chilly clutch of fear Hear now, the modern poet speak his piece. Sweep out, he cries in metre odd and vague, All strong but time-entarnished times of love, Of hate and sorrow. Let them lie Forgotten in their gutter of cliches. Wipe out all rhyming prayers of pious men, God, if He lives, can reign no longer here. Yet, any child, unspoiled and innocent Will catch rhymes shining, and investigate. He ' ll dust them off, and then with new-aged eyes Will hug the treasure, singing, to his breast. Rene Brooks ' 50 135