Walnut High School - Cayuse Yearbook (Walnut, CA)

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TRA CES 0F CREA TI VITY The purpose of a yearbook is to record the events of a school year - the achieve- ments, activities, victories, and defeats. The Fine Arts section is included this year to trace the thoughts and artistic expres- sion of those who may not receive recogni- tion for other achievements. Like any other activity, art and poetry are traces of stu- dent thoughts and ideas during this school year. Unlike pictures of people, creative expression through art and poetry reveals more than the physical being, it reveals a person's inner being . . . I v QI' eee lp., l 3 nge t 1 Q 1. ,. .,, ' E it ' I ht-we ' J A' 1 f Z X , ' BY K E vb Q Mark YV Q ' x l Bowen ei- - D l C X ' Q-.1 ,f v, 4 -'Lay .r-vm, f , v- ' x 1 L..- gXx Y X i -4 QM: I! Xxx? K f V i KX , .., ., . , , in X 1 . 1 X ., 5 gm wuz mmf 3 ,. 1 x J Ka nd Moe ,7 , va-L? ' ll ,L g . ., ,1 -f , 4, , g f we J , T- f like -' x nf Z ,- W X fl 1' .yg ff T ff l T-. 4 x Y f-,, ' x ' fe- X- 41' E. fi X fn , ,QW fi, it W . , H g -, ,' lf' XX Gfijff Wi! ,rut V Xu rx I, X ' f ev 11me it endless and unreachable infinite even though we may ceasetobe Time never stops itgoes on forever unseen in an ever-winding path spiralling upward into nothing Time nothing? By D.M. Yamashita 40 4 Everything we say, Every wish that we make, Every living day, Every chance that we take, Every chapter we read, Every time we have fought, Every day that we plead, Everything we are taught,

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ALONE Riding an imaginary bike along an imaginary road, swimming through a lake that is infinitely large, sipping large bottles of Coca-Cola on hot summe days, catching mysterious thoughts from other worlds, looking at people as alone as I, listening to the never-ending sound of people calling my name, uttering words of sorrow from the deepest part of my heart, condemning all reality coming from all directions, forgetting I live in a world of mystic horizons, running away from the pressures of life, I am one, I am alone. By Tim Houchen I . l 1 , me ,.,: - . .-rf' -v f H qt A , A . 1 M . ct .M N , 4, v 5 iff- ' V , , ,QW I ' A 'fy 5, ffl: L.---3 + f - ,-my .V it leg: ..,.wf,s.,,., g ,5.g,,1.3, ,, ,,,.gw.,, ' ' . ,, , dx. ,- A-..e...L4g..e w.'.s.-.i1,-sf. Q......ef . .. .I - '- The thing inside of me is cold and hard and sits where my heart used to be. The thing grows with the thought of it, grows, pushing at my sides and chest. It eats away any happiness I might find and kills any love I might begin. At times it seems to consume my entire self - body and soul, and leaves me aching from depression and fatigue. The thing inside of me is deep hurt and sits where my love used to be. . The hurt is caused by someone I love very much, caused by his hateful actions and feelings toward me. It eats away at memories of happiness I have and tries to kill the love that remains. I try to harden myself against it, try forming a wall through which bad feelings cannot penetrate. But it comes back, flooding my entire self - body and soul, and leaves me aching from the hurt. By Debbie Burdick Top: Wes Stetz displays his Christmas art project, a mobile of - L 'E :forays seeds and peas. Above: Marlyn McCue sculpts in 7 J Every heart we break, Every ioy that we bring, , Everything we hate, 4 Every song that we sing, In the future or past, In our minds indelibly, Everything will last, Living on in a memory. By Andrea Cuthbertson i,+A Tafligil C ' hmm' l