THE FOOLISH MAN A foolish man once heard that a wise man builds his house on a rock. So the fool- ish man worked for nine days t9 move his house from the sand to the rock} But the rock was hard and slippery, .and the foolish man did not know how to lay a new foundation under his old house. And... Show moreTHE FOOLISH MAN A foolish man once heard that a wise man builds his house on a rock. So the fool- ish man worked for nine days t9 move his house from the sand to the rock} But the rock was hard and slippery, .and the foolish man did not know how to lay a new foundation under his old house. And when the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds began to blow and beat upon it, the house slid from the rock and fell into the sand below. And great was the fall of it. .-Gloria Ostrem .22.; Show less
TO LOVE ENOUGH To love enough, yet not to love too much, mo love with all your self and still be free, To love when only hatred is returned you, And yet not blind to human failings be, To love with self unconscious of its moving I$ loving that wilfl last eternally. uéMaxine Berntsen ~3$~
SPRING AND LOVE The opal is cold Its fire is warm Winter is cold Its springafire is warm The moon is cold Its fire makes hearts warm Spring and love come in torrent$ Of crackling ice and wind But the opal is cold And the firea of spring are warm. -Jean Harrison ~42-
SKETCH UPON RISING Between the dawn and the sunrise there's a pause, when one can sit upon a hi11.in the city and View it, absent of its filth and selfish compactness; when one can see no more than the staoatto outlines of roof- tops, piercing the early light of the day; when one can breathe the... Show moreSKETCH UPON RISING Between the dawn and the sunrise there's a pause, when one can sit upon a hi11.in the city and View it, absent of its filth and selfish compactness; when one can see no more than the staoatto outlines of roof- tops, piercing the early light of the day; when one can breathe the morning air and taste its freshness, not yet polluted by the rising dust of the day; When one can listen and know that a respect for sleep- ers is still upon those who would make noise. But then the pause is gone and with it the apparition of a city without filth or selfish compactness. From the net of streets and avenues the dust rises, churned by speeding vehicles; and from the chimneys high a disrespectful smog de- scends to meet the rising dust from the street; the taste of the air is dry and chemica1--its freshness is no more, and respect for sleepers disappears, and the day song of the city starts its crescendo. Yes, the pause is gone. . . it is day in the city. -nArthur Anderson Show less
THE EXISTENTIAL AWARENESS After the war has ended, After the outward peace has been established, What will be the aim of man and government? After the thoughts have been thought, After the sentence has been formed, and the word has been spoken, What will be the ethic for man? Eefore the outward... Show moreTHE EXISTENTIAL AWARENESS After the war has ended, After the outward peace has been established, What will be the aim of man and government? After the thoughts have been thought, After the sentence has been formed, and the word has been spoken, What will be the ethic for man? Eefore the outward peace and the ethie are established, Before the sentence is formed, and the word is spoken, There has to be the inner peace, the “New Being'", And man has to become man! --Paul J. Jensen ~80n Show less
soon you feel sleepy, and with the sum shining brightly you go upstairs and crawl into your own‘ bed and sleep till you want to get up. --Darlyne Dean -46»
THE YGHNG LION (Dedicated to L. David Hanson) The young lion paced back and forth at the foot of the mountain; He lifted up his voice and he roared into the wind, Mountain, you stand with the sombre strength of black granite, your head bared to the clouds. Why do you not understand that the gold... Show moreTHE YGHNG LION (Dedicated to L. David Hanson) The young lion paced back and forth at the foot of the mountain; He lifted up his voice and he roared into the wind, Mountain, you stand with the sombre strength of black granite, your head bared to the clouds. Why do you not understand that the gold I desire exceeds the tree on your bosom, the stream bursting in air-spun profusion from your brow. I see no sacred fruit on your cursed tree, I see no cooling solace in your wind- swept crags. Mountain, roared the young lion, bare your golden bosom to my eyes; Tremble, mountain, yield granite crags and let me touch with my fingers the fine golden veins of your bosomd Crack, mountain, roared the young lion, let me find solace in your secret streams. The mountain neither trembled nor moved. The young lion paced back and forth at the foot of the mountain, The strength and chastity of the black granite remained, And the young lion roared into the wind. --Jean Harrison -2- Show less
SMOKE Smoke is the soul of sparkling flame. It passes through cracks in doors, es- capes through screens. Its elusive grey-self is the dying breath of flames Winding in and out and through objects like a subtle thought. Its greyuvelvet self preens and stretches with the silence of a sloe-eyed... Show moreSMOKE Smoke is the soul of sparkling flame. It passes through cracks in doors, es- capes through screens. Its elusive grey-self is the dying breath of flames Winding in and out and through objects like a subtle thought. Its greyuvelvet self preens and stretches with the silence of a sloe-eyed eastern eat. It yawns; it vanishes with a small discreet PuIT 3 Which never gives away the secret of the loud-crackling, quick-taloned flame. It glides ghostliken-catlike--deathlike under doors and through screens. -Jean Harrison ~14- Show less
REFLECTIONS 0N RIMSKY-KORSAKOV All of everything is lonely. The world seems to lie in dullness and lifelessness as I remember. I remember the time of gayness, aspiration, of golden hope and youthful dreams} But now there is real! ity; now there is loneliness. NOW the people loved are gone and my... Show moreREFLECTIONS 0N RIMSKY-KORSAKOV All of everything is lonely. The world seems to lie in dullness and lifelessness as I remember. I remember the time of gayness, aspiration, of golden hope and youthful dreams} But now there is real! ity; now there is loneliness. NOW the people loved are gone and my heart cannot be reconciled to my memory. I have no one to give to, no one to receive from. I can only stand in; stagnant stillness, and think of the past, hope for the fu- ture. But this is now, this is the time I must think. I must act nowb I must write and do and never alloW' my mind to become satisfied with doing nothing. I must not only use- what the creator has given me, but I must temper it and make it fine and hard. I must leave a mark upon this ugly world. -L. David Hanson ~43u Show less
