Saint Laurent High School - Milestone Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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ratr? Kenneth Parte hen There ' s a place the man always sagr Cone in here, child No cause you should weep Wolf never catch the rabbit Golden hair never turn white with grief Cone in here, child No cause you should moan Brother never hurt his brother ITobody here ever wander without a hone There must be some such place somewhere But I never heard of it i3k ! t

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ACT I VI- TIES AND GIRLS £amr - 4t 40

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SENIOR POETRY FIRST PRIZE PEACE The city lay Enveloped in its own rose-coloured chaos. The Kilowatt Prophets preached their indifferent notes of false happiness no longer. Misery was over A finger A button A missile An end An end to poverty, an end to ugliness, an end to lechery, an end to corruption, an end . . . and end . . . an end . . . Subterranean electric blue glowing — Circuits sawing a multitude of mechanical thoughts The tape flowed increasing its futility by the square root of Pi. Silence. Ticker . . . Ticker . . . Faster, Faster shrieking shrieking There is no one left. No one. In the animal voices they shought to destroy Lights began to go out. London Rome Peking Yahaaa . . . ! ! . down the silent halls. The camera shifts its scene and the hand — A perfect hand, but it isn ' t — It is cracked and burnt and devoid of skin By a war she did not know or could not flee. A groan dimly makes its way thro ' the smoke Of a womb, never to know a life Of a race yet unborn but dead. Howard Albert FIRST PRIZE FOR GABRIEL. WITH A TORN WING Dark hero malnourished soft-spoken collector of shadows lift up your eyes and light up your enchanted smile The things you want will catch you in the act of doing the best you can not in the act of looking for the things you want and success is a weak word anyhow In the face of death it is like a whisper in the face of the ocean All this you know We are prison-children of fearful times and what shall inherit the earth . . . concrete and gunmetal or chemical poisons? But we must be the proud heirs of tomorrow ' s horror and beauty The future rests in our hands and if the work will be done under the ground then we will go below i see you sometimes sitting quiet with concern in your eyes for all of us gathered there and sometimes you just don ' t hear me as though compared with outside things your mind is a better place to be I ' m calling you now child and can you hear the pounding of worried hands at your door Some stories have no end the shimmer of the dawn resting on the river the songs that were made by the wind and the sea Gabriel I know that we shall have no end Anne McLean SECOND PRIZE YESTERDAY AND TODAY In the Yesterday of life I ran, and tumbled down hills of emerald green, Laughing at a sapphire sky. Free, free, free, As an eagle gyrating, As a buck roaming, As an angel-fish swimming. And not a care bestirred by mind, Gay in the innocence of ignorance. 42