1984 School Magazine

Face of stone. ewlken, the night hos losf its fear.

Turquoise eyes sfop shiftins; since you clnnot shed a teor. Hair is unco mbed Body tumbled fn ifs rightful place Muscle by muscle, each relaxing, s tone t'olls f rom your f ace. You knew the storm u/os breaking You knew they didn't care Face of alabaster under wispy, tousled hair. Face of stone awoken to the darkness o/ the sou/. Turquoise eyes sfop shiftin1; no srgh t can make fhings whole. Jaw is unclenched Mind is seorching f or ifs rghtful place Muscle by muscle each retensing, sfone becomes your f ace. You knew the storm uros breaking You knew they didn't cere Pain in eyes of turquoise, under your tousled hair.

Helena Bond 11 L.

POETRY BLUES

Reading poetry is like understanding the Law of Relatiuity. You see neatly printed /ines before your eyes, in clear black ink each word indiuidually, superficially simple. But together - they blend and curl themselues up in knofs of incomprehensibility Refusing to come untied. You go bock ouer a sentence, a stanzA, sfruggling to find a glimmer of li1ht. There's something hidden under the tidy dark /ines conceoled in e moze of misleading meenings which only Einstein and the poet know. You goze out a window - the sun looks in laughin1 at your f oilure as the day disgustedly walks out the door. You fidget, shuffle your feet for a while, mutter o simi/e to yourself , and Curse the sodis tic English teacher who put fhis torture in front of you. But what you don't seem to understond is that writing the poem is like

D/SCOYER/NG for the first time E=mc2 "

Vicki Buchbach 9 Hirschfeld

% " Fqce, u

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