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Page 150 text:
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58 ACTA NOSTRA Prize Senior Poem THE LONELY ONE I liar' lzy flu' .wa And aflwz as I zvalfll ll. I sw' 'flu' .V7l'll5'l-IIKLQ' lzalk of a sllip Trarlging jnrflz. I zualrll As lllr' lilly lay l.s su'allazue'rl 'ap by my lll'l-glllillllf. Il gliflfax .vl0a'ly, Snlanlllly, Calling anrl .x'l1'1'i11g inla lla' U1'I'IlIl, lY!'T'I'l' Vf.S'llHQ, V A-1la'ay.s raorlcirlg, ll llllHllll'.V ml, on anal rm. -Larry .IU'llI'S XIIA AN OILWELL 1TIllXlll'UIlllllllg, IIIFIIKICTPIQ. blaflc. A-I ruffirrl. glllfl-IIIIX lmrsf of llama! A sirr'r1'.v .K'l'l'I'llIl1 reads flu' air. ,-I slfarlan' falls UYUI' tim rarllz, A snzalcz' rlnarl lfcgins to .sr'lllf', Tlm m1'11'.v rmslrils arf lrarnirlg. Nllqld falls, qalft relgrzsq alllfaaglz Tla' llf'k1'11.g' flames are rlanclng slill. Szuwvl valnz has fnllozued riot. -Libby Hilton IXC Y ,lui f, ,jf W! N. ,lk ,H x A , . .N lifw' 'P' 1 1 EEL fill ', 3-,ffrai A . ,H '- ' Yr 1,1 H-'mg f :I ffqkx, 'iz' -'KIT' ,Tn ' 4 gN Fr- xr. , 'lf gl gy 11 Afx. fy-gr! . f .-2 vi,-T j'.x . if fjgf ,ggix JMU, a l fp'g xg. i ' if 954- ..,4':H 5, Amr N, N L1 bn y ,fJi ,TfH+4.wk.,-x H... fv THE TRAVELS OF A MOUNTAIN BROOK CIl.S'I'lllllllg orfm' Ilia zaalr'rfall, Tllf' rlj2lI2ll11g brook ramf IIUZUHIQ ll .9fJla.xl1f'1l and gllrglra' ana' jllnzjnfzl alzoal, Tllrn Iu'i.s'l0fl mzmfl anrl Tflllllll. Il wnznzzl its Qlmrrx' wav along. Bl'lZl'f'l'1I tlle zfzlllvjd' zlavjl. 'l'l1m11g'l1 grassy ficflflx aml zmfarlaws wide, .-lml ammzg lla' lllUllIIlIIl.ll.Y .s'l1'1'jJ. ,-lm fl l111l1l1l1'zl along Ilu' lllflllllllllll xldes, T116 lfmnlf czzlrlrgwl anrl grczu. final Vfllflllllg fllf' 111n1n7fa1'11s llllgll and SllfI'll'3', As a river ll tl1'1l111lc'H'fl fill lllfllllgll. Farllzcr and farllmr on it 'rolled Tnzuanls llze walling sm. ll lmgan to swell and lmrsl zulllf pride, .-11111 lo ram' the frimzzlly lmc. ,-11 las! ll nfaflmfl the grml zmlcrzown, ,-12111 all ils 5126771 was game. The rlwm' l1l'C'llllI!' par! of tllis grffal vxlbanse Tlfal .vlrfflrllfd farrzfer 011. -Iiarllara Glamljield XD
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Page 149 text:
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ACTA NOSTRA 57 It was H230 when Amelia finally went upstairs to bed, or at least Veronica thought she had, but Amy was hungry and she crept downstairs to the kitchen, trying to make as little noise as possible as she felt sure Veronica would scold her for coming clown again and raiding the refrigerator. Amy, dressed in her night gown patterned with violets and with her robe thrown over her shoul- ders, tiptoed along the hall. She had reached the kitchen door and was grop- ing for the knob when she heard Jarvis, who was still in the living room, speak. 'Tm worried about Amelia. She seems to think there is something odd about Orville's death . . . You know, about the cremation . . . and if she begins to think about the alcove, and your chang- ing your mind so quickly when you told her the day you had it filled in. Nonsense, broke in Veronica. She's a perfectly harmless old fool. She could- n't reason out anything about his death. XVe've hidden everything, even the drug. No one would find it in the cane- bottoiued chair, let alone Amy. I suppose so, said Jarvis, but we have got to be careful. Amelia turned quickly away from the kitchen door and crept upstairs. She went into her bedroom, locked the door, and went to the cane-bottomed chair. Early the next morning a little old lady, her snowy white hair tightly rolled into a neat bun at the back of her head and wearing a faded mauve dress and a cameo brooch left the house on the hill. She called for a taxi at the corner store and was soon on her way downtown. She alighted from the cab in front of a great, grey stone building and walk- ed inside. She stopped in front of a huge desk and looking towards a man in uniform behind it, said slowly, Officer, my name is Amelia Good- child. There is something I think you should know. 3 lk Pk rid il il- ,Q iii i t vm l naman humps rag THE SEARCH He quickly looked over the books, seem- ingly intent on finding a certain book. His eyes swept over row after row, ever search- ing. Intermittently his hand would fly out and wrench a book from the shelf. Then with only a cursory glance at the title he flipped to the last page. A brief look and then he jammed it back on the shelf. Over and over again this was repeated. What great book was he looking for? As I watch- ed him frantically continue his search, the bell rang. His eyes swept over the vast array of books once again. The end of a fu- tile search? No! He grabbed a book and flipped to the back page. An expression of delight crossed his face. He rushed to the librarian, had the book marked and ran out the door. What had this search uncover- ed? What great book was this that he was so delighted in finding? What set this book apart from thousands of others? Why! it was the smallest book in the library!
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Page 151 text:
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Prize Junior Poem SCIENCE Science is a monstrous thing, From exploding suns To the emptiness of space. Science is a tiny thing, From whirling atoms To bacteria and germs. Science is a silver streak Through the empty sky, A bird of metal and noise. Science is a minute speck A transparent cell, Beneath some microscopes eye. Science is knowledge and thought. Science is seeking, A nd the rewards of seeking. -Garth Graham IXC K 1 Prize Intermediate Poem THE DEAD In many ways the dead are treated kindi They in their .senseless slumber do not know The frightened agonies of tortured mind, The sinister abyss of hopeless woe, The frantic fumbling of the lzuinarn race In constant search of one bright glorious prize. Why can the dead not raise their ravaged face And watch it turn to dust before their eyes? For life itself is only to prepare To meet the life that just the dead can seeg And only when we falter can we share The True, the only God and Deity. -Nancy Woods XD IN CANADA U where in this wide world to-day Do schtnrl-bells ring and children sing- So wild at play. and still so gay? Of course! In Canada. Although the world i.s full of fear lfroin all the sights of world by fights. Down through the years we hold no fears: II'e're safe In Canada. II'e see our valleys. cities. plains Through shining eyes-a paradise. I'Qt'l'f'll'lItlI of speech. the right to preach We have In Canada. O where in Gods vast handiwork Do tall trees grow and riziers flow So magically out to the sea? You know- In Canada. -Kurt Christie XIIC NATURE'S MUSIC Some folks like choir singing: Others a loud bold horn: For me this kind of music l.s empty and forlorn. just to hear a stream afrippling- As it flows to the deep, deep sea, Or to hear a bluebird singing- That's the only music for ine. And to hear a chipnzunk chatter, As it scanipers up a tree Ulhen the whole of IItllIlI'F'S singing- I'Vhat other music could there be? -Ruth Letheren IXB Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity. -Wordsworth.
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