Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

Page 33 text:

remaining words. This completes the poem. A person reading it fcr the meaning may read the whole compositiong a person reading it for the poetic beauty may omit the words in parenthesis. The following is an illustrative poem of my own composition: IS XVHITE WHITE IN THE DARK? Is white white in the dark when it Qis too, Dark to see whether it Qis white or not?j White is the absence of all colfor and so in thej Dark it might be almost Qanythingj Is green green in the dark? Scienftistsl Tell us that color is fthe reflection of lightj Upon specific backgrounds and Cwhen there isl No light to reflect, green Qmust be something elsej Lovely effects can be produced by putting brackets around the words preceding the parenthesis and writing above them words which rime. TRUE COINITENTIVIENT Julia Birk Puss dozes by the fire, A happy cat is she, And I feel tired and old As I read my History. It tells me all I wish, It speaks of wars, and kings. But more content is Puss, Who knows none of those things. Twenty-nine

Page 32 text:

felt it in my pocket. If any of the neighbors had seen me with it, no telling what they might have thought. ' 'LBut Mother, some of the women do it in New York. Don't they? Smoke, I mean. Ixlaxine looked up into Mrs. Curtis's face. Muriel Marne told me so, she finished. Yes, dear, they do. Many women smoke, but always remember, my girl, ladies never do. And that means ladies in the truest sense of the word. Dan, glancing up from the flower garden which he was weeding, saw his sister softly form the words, Thank goodness, Dan. Mum is the word for always. And he replied, You bet your life. I HOW TO BECOME A SUCCESSFUL POET There are two distinct types of poetry- the type with delightful metrical form and little meaning and the type with deep mean' ing and fierce meter. I present a third type, Roger Waltefhouse which has not only profound meaning but enchanting poetic beauty. Undoubtedly this is the highest form of all three types. Strange to say, by the use of the formula which I print here any one of us can write poetry of the highest order. When Rudyard Kipling and john Maseheld see my formula they will most likely look upon it as infringement upon the venerable profession of poets. Mr. Lesley Bates, the faculty poet, has already demanded to know what license I have to publish such a formula. I answer him, poetic license. The formula is as follows: First, write an essay or a narrative with as deep a meaning as you can devise. Second, divide it into any number of stanzas. Select the number of syllables you wish in each line and mark them off. For instance, if you decide upon alternating octosyllabic and hexasyllabic lines, count off eight or six syllables in each line. Then put parenthesis around the Twenty-efgflt

Page 34 text:

HARACTERS: NM E' The Child The Girl N l 1' The Man fx'-'A'-Ox!-'Aw.rAs.rAs.r,g.rfxxr,, gl-lf . 5 4 Nl ., Kern , I 3. 4 lj Q 0 'fe 5 :fV:'i4f1iV NIE D JI Tmunsnrw 5 P TIME: Ill ,bi Any time SCENE: The garden of an artistically P-1--52.140 if IQ shabby French cottage. Cn the left are a cobblestone chimney and a tall cypress treeg on the right, a garden gate slightly open and a hollyfhockfbordered wall. It is late afternoon. The curtain rises slowly, and a child's voice can be heard pleading with someone. Beside the chimney are now seen a young and lovely girl seated on a rock, and a small boy kneeling by her. Child: But can't you see that if there were no fairies what-what a bad place this would be! Girl: flaughingj But fairies! Child: fsoberlyj The world is full of fairies-why just last night- Girl: finterrupting lightlyj No no, little boy. Child: finsistentlyj just last night when my head hurt so and I just couldn't sleep, a little twinkling fairy slid down on a silver moombeam right through the window and onto my very nose. Then she put her two hands on my eyes, and oh! they were so cool just like violets in the early morning, and she hummed a little tune of pussy willow babies in silver cradles, until the first thing I knew, I was asleep! Girl: fsmilingj My poor little boy! Child: findignantlyj Poor!-Why there's one now! tHe rises and goes quietly to the hollyhocks. Girl watches him curiously. He pauses for a few minutes, then shakes his head sadlyj Child: No, it's gone. I guess it had to hurry away. It's getting late, you know, and when the sun dies, the sky is lonely and the fairies have to take care of it all night so it won't be afraid in the dark. Girl: fforcing pleasantnessj 'Yet it's getting late. fShe rises sadly, Child crosses over to herj Child: May I stay up for him tonight? Girl: Qfeigning surprisej Him? Vw7hy, whom do you mean, dear? Child: fdisgustedlyj Why him, of course! Thirty