Hillcrest High School - Impact Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

Page 96 text:

FLEETING MOMENTS Lash-shuttered eyes Sleepy warm brown, Wind-tousled hair Bleached golden blonde, Tanned calloused feet, Tanned calloused hands, Young boy dreaming Childhood ' s dreams. Enjoy while you can All the summer ' s days - For soon, too soon , The world will say, Cease your child ' s play, Be a man, be a man ! Thrust upon those thin shoulders The world ' s woes and cares, Too much for a man - Too much for a boy. Caught in a whirlpool Of conflict; between Childhood and manhood. Oh lad! Oh child! How soon, how soon You will age and know That forever to you Are lost childhood ' s joys. Margaret McNarry (Intermediate - First) TO THE GRADS Fingers pointing, Eyes piercing, Lips pressing, Sinner! We expect much, You must fulfil , You must not fail , Slave! We think only of you, We know what is best, You cannot escape, Captive ! Look what has been done, See what you must reach, Do not wonder why, Follow! You may choose your course, But - never wander off, Here is where you go, Obey! There is no time to feel, Emotions are a waste, Follow, don ' t protest, Silence ! (A grade 13 student)

Page 95 text:

WINTER ' S HIDDEN BEAUTIES In every hidden blade of grass, In every wisp of cloud, There is a hint of beauty there, Though not spoken aloud. A ray of light on a dewdrop clear, The dancing shades within; A scarlet disc in a saphire sky, Devoid of strife of din. A snowy, cold, and windy morn Produces a merry sight; Of snowflakes falling endlessly, In dance of fun and spright. A snowdrop fallen carelessly Upon a warm, gloved hand; Soon to be melted with a breath, It cannot wait or stand. Each crystal in perfection fine, Of hexagonal shape, Each has a pattern of its own, There is no duplicate. A tall, majestic evergreen, Its boughs burdened with snow, Every branch bent almost double, As old man winter blows. Rena Kalin 85

Page 97 text:

IMPRESSIONS OF THE CITY It stands alone, rising up from a field of dead grass littered with trash and billboards. Pilgrims scurry towards it; derelicts stagger from it. With the rising and burning of the sun; with the riding and the glimmering of the moon; its glass and concrete ramparts stride among the twisting, turning aisles of asphalt . In the early dawn the fields are a pale, frosty gold. Wet, damp air hangs in dark clouds of whiteness. The gray concrete is tinged a pearly cream with silver windows flashing white in the watery light. Into the flushed heavens rises an opalescent ball . The aisles are rel- atively peaceful - the few sounds echo clearly At high noon the fields are yellow. Papers blow and tin cans rattle across the fields. The ramparts are gray with brilliant gold flashes. Burning down from the azure skies is the amber sun. A thick blue-gray pall rises up from the blaring vehicles with a sickening stench . Across the clear sapphire skies rides the crystal moon. The ramparts and aisles of the city loom up as black splotches. Flames of light fl icker everywhere . Tires screech ... people sing ...dogs bark ... bil Iboards shine ... beer cans rattle . It stands alone . . . pilgrims scurry towards it; derelicts straggle from it . Carol N . Markham 87