fold her close to himself...press her soft breasts against his heart...rub her smooth cheek against his own rough one...muss her hair a little and kiss her laughing lips--not passionately, just quietly, just to tell her how much he loved her. Celeste watched him coming and gathered up her coat... Show morefold her close to himself...press her soft breasts against his heart...rub her smooth cheek against his own rough one...muss her hair a little and kiss her laughing lips--not passionately, just quietly, just to tell her how much he loved her. Celeste watched him coming and gathered up her coat and gloves. He-was so precious, and such a gentleman! She smiled as she thought how he never would let her put on her coat without his help. Now they would go home to their wonderful house and she would fix-~tonight-—creamed tuna, because it was so late. She was so proud that she could cook well. She was quite sure that she made a very good wife. It was like watching her Prince Charming coming. Now he ought to take her in his arms and kiss her. His hand was on her shoulder now. He was going to kiss her. But it was like that night,_that awful night. He was sick again! mama said, "Don't get too close to any man, dear." If only mama were here she'd make him stop! Celeste felt a great piercing cry tear her throat and heard it echo and re-echo through the church. Wildly she tore herself free and cowered, animal-like, under a pew, whimpering and sobbing. Craig groaned and stood watching, help- less, afraid to move. He knew that he had lost her. Mary Doren The Two White Horses Beautiful, so beautiful, so white and still, so silent. So beautiful my numbed heart cannot accept your silence as eternal. Why do you not speak, why do you lie so cold and quiet? Where is the spark of life, the gentle rise and fall of your breast, the soft breathing? Has your warmth all fled? Way do I feel no pain, but Show less
Poetry Sleep Sweet—healing sleep comes Creeping in like soft fluttering of
Show morePoetry Sleep Sweet—healing sleep comes Creeping in like soft fluttering of <1er moth's wings Beating a soothing lullaby. anooth velvety darkness ' Swallows us up in violet petals, ' mile the flower of life slumbers. The spirit is silent In the breast of the blossom Now sealed in sleep. Nami Christensen Awake Awake, self! Spring has come; the time of awakening. The ground lives The air breathes- only you remain sluggish and wielding. Awake to realization! Life begins anew and you are life 'And life is yours ‘ with all its promise Renew yourself in the strength of earth. Naani Christensen 18 Show less
you.‘ One day that place will be ready, that day Katalina, little Lutan and I and many others will go to that village beautiful, where all the houses will be pretty even as the white people's houses are pretty. I am with sorrow because Malata has left me, but my sorrow does not surpass me. One... Show moreyou.‘ One day that place will be ready, that day Katalina, little Lutan and I and many others will go to that village beautiful, where all the houses will be pretty even as the white people's houses are pretty. I am with sorrow because Malata has left me, but my sorrow does not surpass me. One day, I will see her again.“~ ' For a while no one spoke. Finally, Grandma, with large beads of perspiration pushing out from her furrowed brow broke the silence with a throaty cough. Placing her leathery hand on the shoulder of her son-in-law she said, "My child, truly those are words of wisdom. Teach me the road to the God of you." Ruby Nelson Eurydice ; Sonorous and full the great tones poured down upon her ears. The whole church, just now so imposingly still, had suddenly been rejuxenated by the throbbing music, beating its holy pulse upon the heavy ornate windows of the sanctuary. High to the left of the chancel the sunlight filtered through the emerald and cherry stain, spilling over the massive organ, playing like a quiet rainbow with the singing pipes and alighting gracefully, indiscriminately draping itself over the pews along the center aisle. Back in the shadows Celeste could outline the ebony cross which rose above the altar, and the Christ who stood and knocked at the door, and, imprisoned tut the oils of the canvas, waited forever. She wonderu1 ed idly what he would do if he were not so eternally ‘ restrained--would he go away when no one answered? Or would he try the door, and, finding it unlatched, lO Show less
and walked to the vacated lectern. There was a brief ' silence, punctuated by coughing, the rustling of notes, and a quick jittery smile from the lecturer. In a & dynamic manner he began (as best I can remember)— "Can any of you here,"-a reflective pause and then hurriedlyb-"recall that verse in ... Show moreand walked to the vacated lectern. There was a brief ' silence, punctuated by coughing, the rustling of notes, and a quick jittery smile from the lecturer. In a & dynamic manner he began (as best I can remember)— "Can any of you here,"-a reflective pause and then hurriedlyb-"recall that verse in "Genesis" where the Creator commissims wanan as MAN'S M (a look of intense frenzy mam into his face and the whole congregation gasped 'S CHIEF HEIPMATE AND SOLACE? CAN YOU? CAN YOU?" He pmmded the lectern and fairly screamed "but is it trot? Is it? no; No: Damn it it isn‘t! Wanan was made to be man's helpmate not his chief antagonist. In this case the verse is false and the reeverse is ‘ true: (Even in highly excited states certain people 1 can pun.) Listenl Three years ago I met what I } thought then was the'ideal wanan, Angela. She'was ; intelligent, sincere, virtuous, pretty, urbane, well- 1 read, a writer of sorts fran a well-bred family-null 1 the admirable qualitiesi" Suddenly he seized the ‘ side of the lectern and stared at us feverishly, but began slowly, "I had been introduced to her at an Enerson Day picnic on the Common in Boston. When our eyes first met on that sunmr day I knew instantly we were "Each in All." I began to court her. We wrote bright little essays to each other on Enerson. I sent her a volume of Carlyle. And she‘in turn wrote 1 for me some exquisite pantheistio poetry. What ‘ bliss!" Then he bent his head slowly, put his hands to his face and sobbed mauentarily-osudenly he threw his head up stiffly with tears streaming fran his eyes he began again,"1¢ourted her for three yearsunI proposed marriage only last Christmas. We were to be married tanorrow. We were (he sobbed again) to spend our honeymoon at Cambridge. Then late this afternoon I learned from an intimate friend of mine that she—she had betrayed me: (He manentarily lost control of himself, but he motioned beck someone who wanted to Essiet him.) "It seems she 2 I Show less
. the mechanical signs, the mbelievable'rushing of the people on their way hone from work, the previews of noise profusely stealing fran their dingy and crowded origins—all these sounds and mingled ingredients rushing madly to claim their place in the night air—each‘ of then taking their turn to... Show more. the mechanical signs, the mbelievable'rushing of the people on their way hone from work, the previews of noise profusely stealing fran their dingy and crowded origins—all these sounds and mingled ingredients rushing madly to claim their place in the night air—each‘ of then taking their turn to thrill the visitors; enclose the socialites, and bore me. Abova all this, I had heard the cab turn the corner. This was the proof to the whole world that I was a New Yorker. Joyce Birkeland "...and the last shall be first" The old man sighed as he straightened up. A trace of a smile crossed his lips as he looked out over the rolling green hills and saw the movement the breeze caused among the leaves of the ancient trees that offered refuge fran the hot sun in the garden. He bent down to pick up his tool, a pole with a nail on the end of it, and began to collect ‘ papers with it. When the end of the stick was full, he pushed the papers off into a large burlap bag whichwaslayingcnthe groundnearhim. After a while he stopped and pulled out his watch. "Well, half an hour before the next load of tourists. I'll have time to light up my pipe before the bus ptills'in." He seated himself on a huge rock, lit a match; and started puffing on his pipe. As he sat there, he looked around at this garden which had come tic be so important to him; so important in fact that he had taken this Job of keeping it clean even though he was a fine carpenter. lfls hand reached out and touched the rock on which he sat. "He might have sat on this rock or at least passed it on that 2 fateful marsday night scenery yem's ago." The old 2 Show less
This booklet is printed as part of the Creative Arts week activities at Angs- burg College. All entries are original work of people directly associated with Augsburg College. April, 1958.
CYCLE Rain falls Night falls Bird calls A barren song Tb the slim:slip of a virgin moon Moving untouched through cloud- stained space Tw1sted, sighing, Softly dying Down, down through sere leaves Song falls Rain falls- -Jean Harrison ~40~
MOST DISTRESSING There was a time that I could not think about it without feeling a distasteful- surge, wishing that I had never met her. But now, now that I can sit and reflect without any emotional involvement, I can see the moral and Spiritual good that has resurrected to life. Objectivity is... Show moreMOST DISTRESSING There was a time that I could not think about it without feeling a distasteful- surge, wishing that I had never met her. But now, now that I can sit and reflect without any emotional involvement, I can see the moral and Spiritual good that has resurrected to life. Objectivity is sometimes painful, even though it shouldn’t be according to many definitions. But, I am not the ordinary person with the simplicity of accepted feelings and reasons thereof. So I shall relate . . . . It was before Christmas and the office gang had gotten together for a drink, nothing excessive, just a small party. As we walked down Broadway looking for a suitable place for patronage, the dominant thought must have been one of con— tentment, You ask why I'm so sure . . . well, the answer is a simple one. We had just prior to this hour encountered our employer for our bimonthly reward. To add to our usual joy filled evening we had received a bonus for Christmas. The streets were all aglow with the usual pre—Christmas rushing: People with more money than time, and then of course there Were those like us who had more time than money . . . or shalll say we had time, but no desire to spend too much until those pretty "last minutes sales" signs appeared. After much deliberation and lengthy discussion we finally entered an estab— lishment . . . with a little imagination Imight even say it had character. We walked with determination, right past the cluttered barwithout even a cold stare. We were indeed proud of our successful attempt. After all we didn’t want anyone thinking our putpose was one of dissipation. After deciding quickly the waiter came, curtly asked for identification and, being satisfied disappeared into the adjoining room to fulfill our wishes. The lilting music was soothing to our wracked nervous conditions, effects of a busy and most frustrating day. Humming along with "Tan shoes and pink shoe— laces” gave us all the calming element we needed. Then, with the reappearance of our waiter we settled down to what we were anticipating to be a quiet evening. l7 Show less
“I've been working on the railroad all the bad damn dayl"sang Barry as he stepped from the bathtub of his $20 a month apartment. "These fish odors z 'e making me sick," said Hugh as he stood in front of the thrice cracked mirrm in the bathroom. “Why for heaven's sake must we have these fish lying... Show more“I've been working on the railroad all the bad damn dayl"sang Barry as he stepped from the bathtub of his $20 a month apartment. "These fish odors z 'e making me sick," said Hugh as he stood in front of the thrice cracked mirrm in the bathroom. “Why for heaven's sake must we have these fish lying around here all the time waiting for them to dry out enough so we can tan their hides? Besides, someone left one of those things on my Sports Afield manual and now the fish on the cover has a bad smell. Bad. My blue, double breasted suit has fish scales all over it and I don't like to have scales all over my suit. Get that!" "Well, you shouldn’t complain. I remember when you used my new electric razor to scale a fish once. A whole group of people wondered where I got the Open Seas shaving lotion. I was too embarrassed to tell them the truth." "Joe says there's a huge demand for fish bladders these days. He says they use them for vitamin capsule covers." “Ya, I heard that too." "Uncle Hank used to eat raw fish eggs. He said they were good for the hair. Even when he was 97 years old he had pitch black hair. It's sort of funny, because at 95 he was totally bald. Maybe there is something to that tale." "Oh yes, I noticed when I was in the tub just now the water was so slimy that the soap wouldn't even lather." "Darn' it, didn't I tell you I cleaned a mess of fish in there a couple of days ag071l “No. Well it doesn't matter. I’ll have soft skin because fish have the amazing wonder ingredient in them, ZCRSl, that keeps fish eyeballs soft and smooth." "No, really? They also have 46GB to keep their bones sharp." "Really?" “Reallv.” “That's really interesting." “Hal is coming today to put some more ice in the fish box. He says fish can’t live in water that’s too hot." "Really?" "Really." "We’ve got to clean the fins off the wall today." "Really?" “Really. Because if we don't we won't be able to see the skylight and then the moss on the floor might die." “Did you call the man that usually mows the moss and trims the bushes on the walls?" llNo.ll "I'll have to tell him tomorrow." "We'll have to dust the statue of Sarah Bernhardt too." "I noticed one of her Shoelaces is untied." "Tie it. will you?" "I hear someone unlocking our door. Oh. it'sUncle Hank and he's got our vests. Here let me help you with yours.0ne buckle, two bULkleS, three and four buckles. Now put your arms behind your back while lturn the key on the sleeve. (lee, you look nice in your nice, clean and white vest." "Gee. thanks, Hugh. I kind of thought I did." Show less
TRUE DIRECTION What infinity of expectation is worth but one hour of conviction Life is pained, light or dark, yet in either is True Life. God created, not stereotyped — Millions were made to be. Happiness is to be sought, not with anotlier's conviction. All must seek. Questions arising are... Show moreTRUE DIRECTION What infinity of expectation is worth but one hour of conviction Life is pained, light or dark, yet in either is True Life. God created, not stereotyped — Millions were made to be. Happiness is to be sought, not with anotlier's conviction. All must seek. Questions arising are ansWered in the heart, not by one for all, but by one for one. We travel the long, darkened hallways of life, the walls without diversion or alternative; With faith we follow the Guide at the journey's end. Its Ray to lead us. We find the Rainbow, the Light, and Real Life. Sunday, February 22. 1959 The small ,boy, his dirty face streaked with rear stains, cautiously peered around the corner of the red, brick building. His clothes were spattered with mud and along jagged tear showed his sidewalk—scraped knee. Blood trickled down his bare knee and was soaked up by the frayed edges of his torn pants. When he looked down, he had to fight hard to keep back the huge tears that were gathering his eyes and he looked a\\'ay.Acryof fear came from his lips as he glanced down the street and saw a group of bigger boys dashing toward him. He turned, stum— bled and ran. A shocked sob or two and he was in the protective arms of his mother. 10 Show less
to figure out some way to get more. He’ll get it from his neighbor even if it means his neighbor will starve. Some people say we come from monkeys. Who ever heard of a monkey fencing in a banana tree and keeping it to himself while other monkeys starved to death?" "Good night," I though, "the man... Show moreto figure out some way to get more. He’ll get it from his neighbor even if it means his neighbor will starve. Some people say we come from monkeys. Who ever heard of a monkey fencing in a banana tree and keeping it to himself while other monkeys starved to death?" "Good night," I though, "the man's babbling" . "That’s what I like about Moore,” he went on. "I think he was wrong in a lot of things. But he was rightwhen he made provisions to see that everyone had what he needed, and then some.‘ But Moore was no stupid idealist. He also provided restraint against those that would take more than they needed. As I said, Moore was wrong in a few ideas. Here's what I would do . . ." Donovan entered. Donovan was a Navy medical corpsman attached to our Ma— rine rifle company. He came straight to the point, making no concessions to Mr. Turnquist's rank. "Captain’s orders," he said militarily, as though expecting an argument, “all available men in front of the corpsmen's bunker to help take out the dead." "Saved by the bell,:' I thought as we left the bunker and walked to the corps— men's. The corpsmen's bunker was easily recognizable on a normal day by the folded stretchers piled beside it. Now the stretchers were neatly lined up on the slope in front of the bunker, coveredwith a shelter half or a poncho. The ponchos did not quite cover the legs of the dead men like the shelter halves did. Ponchos are shorter than shelter halves. Death owed no one anything, but all paid their respects to death. Even the wind ceased its violent whipping and hushedamournful litany. Silent and embarrassed, we milled around for a few minutes. Finally Captain Clary raised his hand in a meaningless command for silence. “Gentlemen,” he began, the term sounding suddenly silly as I looked over the bearded, filthy men, "we have an unpleasant job. We’ve got to get as many of the dead off the hill tonight as possible. We haven't enough stretchers for them all so the ones in the corpsmen’s bunker will stay here overnight. [won’t sav anything. I can’t. Get back as soon as you can. We'll carry the rest down to— morrow." I turned and grasped the handle of the nearest stretcher. It was the right handle at the head of the stretcher. Mr. Turnquist grasped the left handle. We began the torturous descent down the intricate side of the mountain. We tried to keep in step with the others carrying the same stretcher. Two bearded, dirty faced men, looking very nondescript in their parkas with the hoods up, had taken the foot of the stretcher I had chosen. The rest trailed behind us—-fifty—six men carrying fourteen stretchers. I tried not to pay any attention to the gruesome cargo l was carrying. I had just begun to think of ways to shut up Mr. Turnquist when l was shaken from my reverie by the sound of the shelter half moving. I glanced down in time to see the hand of the body dangling over the side of the stretcher. l bent to put it back but faltered midway. In terror I realized thatI dreaded the horror of touching the flesh of the cadaver. I walked a little longer trying to ignore the hand. But it kept rubbing along the ground, By now the flesh began to scrape off the back of the hand. “Pat it back," a voice cried from behind me, "put it back." This gave me the impetus I needed, but the voice never gave me a chance. It continued, "Don't be afraid to touch it. It’s only a piece of meat. That's all it is. in a month it will be nothing more than a bag of rot andworms. Put it back. When you touch it pretend it's just a side of beef. It's nothing to get shook about." Mr. Turnquist laid his part of the burden down, thus forcing the rest to do the same. He gently lifted the shelter half, and with a sad look, placed the offending hand upon the chest of the dead boy. He stood, straddling the stretcher, and looked at the man who had spoken. He was a tall, red faced man with a red beard and a running nose. Mr. Turnquist pointed at him with his mittened hand. "Stop it!" he shouted. “It is not a piece of meat. Haven't you ever heard of the dignity of a human being?" He continued Without giving the red bearded man a chance to answer. “Don't you understand 21 Show less
SNOWY SUNSET A pretty pinkish palor Bearing broader, burning brighter, Dipping deeply in December's Sliding skyline. The nordant melting motif Into icy incarnato Shagging shows into silence, Fancied formless. A cast of copper capping Distant dimness; drawing discord Folding feebly——flitting... Show moreSNOWY SUNSET A pretty pinkish palor Bearing broader, burning brighter, Dipping deeply in December's Sliding skyline. The nordant melting motif Into icy incarnato Shagging shows into silence, Fancied formless. A cast of copper capping Distant dimness; drawing discord Folding feebly——flitting further . . . Listing languor. TWISTED GENIUS In bitter disinclination I.was placed in this room, With nothing but sullen walls and those tormenting violins. The formula had been perfected. I was about to perform the final experiment — then I‘m a murderer, a destroyer of'mankind. Foolsl I’ll show them yet, For it is not I, it is they. Reflections A knock on the door, Who can it be? Perhaps a king, or a queen, Or even the President of the United States, Who can it be? Rerhaps a drunk begging for money, Or a shoeshine boy looking for pennies, Who can it be? Will I find disappointment awaiting, Or will joy welcome me to its midst? Perhaps even lurking behind the door Will be . . . . death. Who can it be? 14 Show less
Now this is how it all started, and you must admit it did look promising. As the hours progressed, however, I had the darkening premonition that this was not going to be the type of evening I anticipated. The waiter had by this time becomeavery good friend, one with whom we could easily converse.... Show moreNow this is how it all started, and you must admit it did look promising. As the hours progressed, however, I had the darkening premonition that this was not going to be the type of evening I anticipated. The waiter had by this time becomeavery good friend, one with whom we could easily converse. Each time he came for the sole purpose of pleasing our taste however, I felt a bit uneasy, not because he was becoming impatient and a bit disgusted with our various tastes which changed each time we ordered, but be— cause one of our group seemed to be becoming increasingly wild in her accusa— tions. Once she insisted that her Singapore sling contained too much sugar. the next, that he gave her no stirrer. Now the rest of us felt that these were un— warranted, the poor man had absolutelv outdone himself with never being satis- fied till we were. We could well understand his minor annoyance when she in— sisted upon his taking back her bit of refreshment for the ninth time. By the third hour our friend had become almost violent with dislikes, of all kinds. 1 was constantly repressing the desire to throw my olive pit at her. It was then the end of the fifth hour and my patience was at its end . . . so I gently and carefully aimed. As the stirrer bounced noiselessly from its mark on her forehead I knew that the party was to become one of disagreement. She lunged but with my quick movement I averted her hand, and instead of finding me it found the face of her who was at my right. Then it happened. The waiter appeared as if from nowhere and intercepted her succession of blows finding himself being bombarded from all sides-—orange slices, coasters, matches, empty cigarette packages, and of course a lady's most constructive assistant, the handbag, which might easily in modern up to date description be called. luggage. The evening ended quite suddenly, or should I say with a jolt. l have since de— cided never to venture forth toapleasant quiet evening with a group of such com- pletely undisciplined ladies. Their behavior is most distressing! 18 Show less
Journey Across the Boundary Dav drove dawn over Siva's hills. Far to the north lay the white Himalayas, guarding the boundary to the old Hindustan. Southward, toward the Indian sea, the hot plains shimmered in the morning light, while to the west, the darkness retreated to give place to the plans... Show moreJourney Across the Boundary Dav drove dawn over Siva's hills. Far to the north lay the white Himalayas, guarding the boundary to the old Hindustan. Southward, toward the Indian sea, the hot plains shimmered in the morning light, while to the west, the darkness retreated to give place to the plans and work of man. Beside the placid Ganges, where it turns southward to reach for the sea, lay the little Bengali village of Kantara, a haven of humble folks, faithful followers of the good god Krishna. Up from the water’s edge the green, grassy grounds lifted toward the hills of happiness, the rolling Bahagalpur. The tinkling of bells sounded abroad as the village girls drove their cattle out to the lush grass on the hills. From every courtyard in the village came the cows and goats, the pride of the family, the treasure store against times of want. Among the herd girls of Kantara village there was one to whom the hours of watching were not tedious. Gopini Lal lived in her own world, a dream world quite apart from the other girls of Kantara. /\ Show less
With uncertain steps, blinded by a veil of tears, Gopini drove her herd out upon the green hills. Obediently the cattle found their way to the pleasant graz— ing grounds. Gopini's heavy thoughts made weary her feet, and she sat down to rest upon a large rock. Her mind was captivated with thought... Show moreWith uncertain steps, blinded by a veil of tears, Gopini drove her herd out upon the green hills. Obediently the cattle found their way to the pleasant graz— ing grounds. Gopini's heavy thoughts made weary her feet, and she sat down to rest upon a large rock. Her mind was captivated with thought of the river, death's riVer. which blocked her desire. The ripples of the stream made spark— ling eyes which beckoned her; they said that here was the way, here was the stream that though it retained the body would quickly transport the soul — the soul which then would return to cross the barrier of caste. As suddenly as rainy season clouds are chased from the sky to reveal the light. so quickly the melancholy mood left the heart of Gopini Lal. She sang a song of praise to lord Krishna. who had revealed to her the journey. The pungent odor of evening fires lay heavily on the motionless air. The sound of the tinkling cow bells was heard approaching the .village as Copini Lal sought shelter for her herd in the far corner of the courtyard. Night had fallen on Siva's hills. On the moonlit grass the dew was beginning to glisten. Thin wreaths of smoke rose slowly from the dying fires of the village homes. The bowl of a hungry jackal broke the stillness of night. On the bosom of the placid river, the mother Ganges, the body of (:Opini Lal moved tranquilly toward the sea — the low caste shell of a released spirit _ Gopini Lal. The roll of drums had awakened the people of the place. The jovous news that had long been awaited quickly spread from the palace of the lotus llOVlers‘ out into the streets. The festival of Krishna this year had been made doubly aUspi- cious by the birth of a little princess. During the night some transient spirit had found a home in the body of a child aborning. A- great least was being prepared for the lowliest citizen as Well as the Visit» ing family of nobility. Great was the rejoicing in the palace, when the truth was known that at last had come the blessing of a girl. Long had they auaited the coming of one who could link the two ancient families through the bond 01 mar riage. When all was prepared for the (east, and the people were seated r0“ upon row, the princely lather brought out the child, carrying it in his arms to bring joy to the hearts of his people. The ruler turned and walked to where the young prince was seated. As the boyish prince gazed upon the face of the little princess, sud— denly, she opened her eyes and smiled. Show less