Show The Aggie Review Page 8 Poetry GOD'S AGENCY HAPPINESS I've been thinking about you Timeless challenging beckoning you Why must you change so rapidly and leave me no signs on where to find you Is this a trick tojead me astray especially when thought I knew you? you not wanting to be known selfishly ran ahead or behind elusively hiding when you knew it was you I had to find? What is it tyrannic player of games I've only caught you at your best a few times But now I'm chasing you perhaps running too fast prefer to give Him my father's eyes I My My blue-gre- y mother's olive complexion brother's coveted thick chestnut hair Paul Newman's fine nose — (Do you think He'd take offense?) He'll have a Michaelangelo body I Abigail Judd A CALL TO FANTASY ears —of reality— We see Such heat! The canyon contributing its own voice more clearly we see truth But — "unanswerable" Above us the soothing arms of frees embody us with coolness security Above all is sky blue near — and Grasses reach high so high they touch the tops of our thoughts We see ourselves being surely absorbed into time there Yes but we are the time And we sink happily into the very soil Forever content we notice people and more coming to us yet our situation is not crowded somehow everyone is absorbed also And they share our happiness yet we seem to hold the most pleasureable —we are the essence of true essence But vaguely the call to realism suggests itself onto the outer edges of our time Yes even fantasy has come to an end A r Ulysses' men Who barely stopped their ears with wax listen and don't reply Piercing bloodless wings Pins secure it to a of blue velvet It doesn't throb anymore His name shall be Yaweh Elohim Diane Mayne I was there the outside perhaps —and what was not The definitions between being very real REFLECTION ON A FOURTH GRADE CLASS PICTURE Innocent child of roses of Child Colors a sky blue Suns are painted yellow Grass is always green And things are so —he's always told And so saw what saw And he sees what he sees —and very little more I I And we were there not on the outside not on the inside —but just there Around the idea of a world —not fantasy —yet not reality Just a world of mind and creation never wasting to define nightingales Abigail Judd And we saw Saw beyond what eyes can see Felt beyond the touch of skin Listened and even silence had a tale Doug Robinson I glass-covere- d will never understand His ways He will be my eternal scape-goa- t My Shirley Jackson Special I on the ideas of a world —of what was real looking at me staring back Where visitors forget their everything like He will be easier to find there —looking in Dreaming from the land of AV mind On sits in gentle repose left-ove- And Satan his henchman will turn the iron rod And poke them with Poseidon's toothpick Just to see if they are done And Pray it isn't a warmed up commentary— their own slimey ACHILD'SEYES Eloquent ricochete from my skull's interior walls Could be me The wiser wittier more enduring d in Judy Boeshart Doug Robinson Young child what are your thoughts this day? How do you fare with your classmates? Your mother your lover? Are you glad you're small and I am big? or is it all the same? Tiny figure of me Dressed in shiny black shoes and little girl blues pink satin bows tied in pigtails framing a face I know Cronkite-Severi- have hurt me) Frying them delightedly JHis mind will march in blacks and whites No one will get by Him we're engulfed His dwelling place will be the Olympus of my I VOICE banging articulate He will burn the wicked (especially those who fat and answers to questions I LISTENING And make the air crackel coldly around my And most certainly we are there We viewed a million years Below us is very Editor's Note: These three people are not heavy poets They have that good ability to take a common subject pick out its special psychological truths and communicate fairly effectively the subject's poetry Doug's and Judy's "Fantasy" poem is especially good where the "grasses reach so high they touch the top of our thoughts" The poem hits us again when they claim "We are the time everyone is absorbed" Then Doug's "Eyes" poem works with the problem of reality saying: "We were there around the idea of a world" The idea he finally comes to is that to reality is unimportant (secondary) an wrote "Thereness" A German poet Rilke excellent and heavy piece on thereness Do different poets worry over the same things? Abigail's stuff tells us that she has a good perspective of herself Her "Happiness" poem pertains to much more than just happiness nearly anything will fit her description The questions in her "Reflection" poem uncannily remove her from herself creating an appealing juxtaposition "Are you glad you're small and am big?" Diane's poems reflect her constant introspection What she does in her "God" poem is create Him on paper stand back and see if He fits her like the line: "His mind will march in blacks and whites" Speculation Her "Listening" poem is an intense thing wanting to know whether or not she's- been programmed and hoping she hasn't He will have a temper Jike my father Like a busting comef He'll fly into my horizons background |