Terry Parker High School - Chieftain Yearbook (Jacksonville, FL)

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 Fooling Poems” When I listen to music. When 1 listen to a teacher It makes me feel like sleeping, except when she changes her style of teaching instead of talking and giv ing assignment. When I listen to the coaches yelling at me. It makes me feel like I am the biggest dummy in the world. When 1 listen to one of my fiends speak. It makes me feel so glad to be alive and know I have those friends. When I listen to music. It makes me feel I can escape from my problems for awhile by listening to it. When I listen to laughter. It makes me feel like laughing louder. When I listen to a sad song that tells a story. I feel like I'm in that place and thinking over that problem. When I listen to many people. It makes me feel sometimes confused. When I listen to the band. It makes me feel sick. When I listen to the teacher. It makes me feel like learning what she is saying. When I listen to Jesus Christ Superstar. It makes me feel happy knowing he loved us enough to die for us. When I listen to my grandfather. It makes me feel good. When My grandfather speaks it is with authnority and age-old wisenoss. He knows exactly what I like and treats me like an adult. When I listen to James Taylor's music. It makes me feel thoughtful and philosophical. When I listen to my boyfriend's voice. It makes me feel happy. When I listen to the song. Good Mornig Love. It makes me feel that everyone should wake up with that on their minds. When I listen to the birds singing, pouring rain, or a running stream. It makes me feel happy, clean, and joyful. Student Poets: First Period Compositon.

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I am Sexy Blue I feel a soft. bluish-green. Your eardrums would accept me yellow. Swing me is seeing a blanket of red. I smell a rosey rose color. My taste is an awful green. But my actions are a Sexy Blue! Student Poet: Chuck Wolf. Reflections It is fast and sleek. It comes on strong. You are caught up in it long before you realize it. There is nothing like riding a wave and defying gravity. You are the master of the sea. Picture yourself locked in the green room. Where one false move means the difference between life and death But if you succeed it takes your breath. In and out. up the wall, down the wall, all over the face of the wave you leave strange patterns. You can feel the power rumbling beneath you. your body swings upwards to carry you up and above harm's way. Your board carries you to safety as you turn to paddle out into the ocean to once again defy death. Student Poet: Mark Morrison. Student Artist: Brian llyser. Medium: Macrame. 'lhe World Like a castle without walls this world seems to be like locks without keys so you cannot sec. Student Poet: Danny Kelly. 298

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 The Slaying of the Dragoon of the Lagoon' Journey ye back to a time long ago. to the land of Forth and the Nitty Gritty City. Here lives King Ding, his jester Morth. the gardener Ho-Ho. and the Dragoon of the Lagoon. Once upon a day. King Ding, fearing for his town's safety, took his powerful ring-thc ring of KingDing-and went out to kill the Dragoon of the Lagoon. But so he could not. and he worried a lot. The King called to Ho-Ho and he spaketh thus. Take your hoe-go hoe. Ho-Ho- But he could not harpoon the Dragoon of the Lagoon. Lastly. King Ding called upon Morth with humor so great it was know far and wide as the mirth of Morth from the Firth of Forth. The king sayeth unto him. Go forth. Morth. and slay ye the Dragoon of te Lagoon. Morth did not kill, as was the king's will; he taught the Dragoon under the full moon, to live at peace with his neighbors to the east. The townspeople were overjoyed and this mirth they employed. Awarded was Morth with the Ring of King Ding, the hoe of Ho-Ho- and a title that stands as the Good Humor Man. Student Poet: Tommy Brock. I sit in my chair and read the newspapers. Millions of men go to war. acres of them arc buried, guns and ships broken, cities burned, nations crumbled, people crushed. Thousands die in Vietnam, countless refugees perish there, and in Pakistan; children arc orphaned and innocents vanish like finger-rings of smoke in a north wind. The Sandspur The darkly dreaded sandspur Upholds my wandering feet Upon their Rightful Pathway. If I guide my steps with care and stray not from the Path of Virtue. Absence of pain will be my reward. But if once I transgress. The spur will work its piercing havoc Upon my erring feet. Student Poet: Susan White. I sit in my chair and read the newspapers. Student Poet: Fred Foreman. The earth, in itself nothing merely dirt beween you toes. The seed, in itself nothing merely something packaged and sold. The flower captivation in its beauty dantily arrayed in perfect yellow petals, complimented by shiny, slick green leaves. The earth and the seed: nothing when alone, but a beautiful couple in their marriage. 300 Student Poet: Jeff Anderson.