Lorne Park Secondary School - Key Yearbook (Mississauga, Canada Ontario)

Page 90 text:

NIGHT Night rolls in. The earth is blanketed with darkness. lVlan sleeps, tired from a long day of hustling and bustling, Pushing and shoving, Fighting and competing. But at night he is still. The night belongs to Natureg She makes the world serene, beautiful. Small creatures of the dark slink stealthily about. The silver moon slips silently into the solemn sky. Peace. Then, the heavens burst into a brilliant spectacle, All the stars and planets hidden by day shine with all their wonder and beauty, Twinkling brightly, nothing to impede their show of great glory, Erasing and compensating for all the madness of the day. The sky becomes blacker, but the tiny pinpoints of diamond continue to scintillate. Exploding with a radiance which scorns the very existence of day. Nature thus exhibits her most magnificent of spectacles, Unequalled in splendour or freedom by anything. Oh Dear God, Defer the coming of day Forever. Donna Lilly, Grade ll. Sr. Poetry lst. 'N-. GM.. 'nxt - a -I sink lem: vu Yxw' I wait, J a -' 'll nm an , X' 1 i'7 -'wwu:i ,z'u lf' 'Yi Us in Q 4 A Mm its 1 rx I ., Q xg Q ' V ma: - Q11 t 'UQ js 1: 2 'lt'r RP' Mm iq M' U' bs 4 J- ' 1 demands of the mind shut your eyes close the blinds on visions of war lock your ears throw away the key to painful screams plug your nose stop up columns of belching fumes purse your lips kiss away the foul wetness clench your fists grasp tightly onto a dying race G .nz -W T .4 x sv 'ff ':f:4wvxa '.'.. v.Q 1 ,I fag 'F NME. -if ga nf 1 . 9 'li 4 'c 'F , at 9. an lvl' I' 413' 6 ,ls .Viv .-. ,,. v X, -041 ,,, 0' , -'Y anim 41 'V' l in ' 9 1:1341 gi of 'rf nl I , ,I L 4 41 'tv 1 ,f .1 v of in -1- 'Q

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A MOMENT OF THOUGHT PLEASE! I can envisage Hymns of Hate, ringing clearly on this earth. Can you hear the music echoed by parentless babies, at their birth? Do you feel the bullets banging, from relentless guns? Have you tasted of the hunger, that to a multitude has come? Perhaps you've smelled some loneliness, which led to sniffing glue! Of course, the haunting nightmare, might be different to you! If I preached, I could only attract you by a strand of taper thread! I might try defending theology, but to most that would make it dead! So l'lI send my message plainly, Hoping to grasp only a moment of your thought! The answer ll've foundj to the dilemma, mainly, ls the essence of God's plot! Hell on earth will soon be passing! Life lafter accepting .lesusl is everlasting! Jo-Ann Few 2nd Prize, Junior Poetry. VERY SEASONAL October sunshine Gentle flowers Frosted leaves And autumn showers January Ice and cold Sun on snow like flakes of gold April enchantment The eye beholds Abundant beauty And Marigolds. August rainstorms Earth and moon Indian summer Returns too soon. October sunshine Again is high And one more year Has passed you by. Charlie Cook

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Edgar Wells slid slowly around his store, whistling softly as he scrawled a list of depleted stock on a discarded piece of cardboard. The old black shoes scuffed around a familiar circuit a couple of times before Edgar sat behind the cash register to light his pipe. He had never been known to smoke a pipe, only to light it and then let it die in his waving hand as he spoke. His pants were as ill-fitting as his hoary brown jacket, which hung like a sack on his shapeless shoulders. The frayed vest boasted an ancient watch chain. The skin of his neck hung looselv over his collar. He had a curious bald spot on his right temple that confused strangers for about five min- utes, which was the longest he went without slowly scratching it. He spoke repeatedly about moving out of his rambling house, that it was too much for him, but it was the only remaining memorv of his wife, and he clung to it desperately. Edgar collected catalogues, and would chortle with delight each time a bemused customer would clean out his basement and add to Edgar's collection. He would speak with childlike awe about the 1932 Sears he had stumbled across. Edgar was a killer. He would skulk around the edge of town late each night with his shotgun held like a child in his arms. He would kill any animal he saw. For several months the people of the village had been horrified by the finding of mutilated cats and dogs that littered the fields. It had been several months ago that Edgar Well's sickly wife had been mauled to death by a hulking pair of Dobermans from a farm down the concession. lt was not a great surprise for the townspeople to hear one day that Edgar had been found lying dead in a field with his shotgun, surrounded by wolves. Grant Heckman Honourable Mention Sr. Essay. i 5 g Q.. 5 0 . Y ' X 1 ' - 2 . 1 f Z 2 2 gl I, . f . , 6 - . . f f , ,ff T T . l v V Ag , A A .A E: A . A lzl In , , M f 2 - - ' ff Vz... . ....r Vil- - - - V' . .f'i.., .... n - -1 T- ff ff ,. A zyg ,, w ill ,,., . yyy g fgzgy ggggg . ,,, ,,,.. .,., , W ga-.N H r.,