Image provided by: Clackamas Community College; Oregon City, OR
About The print. (Oregon City, Oregon) 1977-1989 | View Entire Issue (June 3, 1987)
SPRING 1987 Vol. VU No. 2 “A Potpourri of The Arts” "Wonderland” 'Remember Me” What a wonder wonderland would be Singing flowers, dancing trees Talk to the animals, sing with bees Doing, being, what you please. I'm the kid that you laughed at, The kid that you jeered. The kid you called different And utterly weird. The one that you thought of A jester or clown, The one you avoided, And always put down. The boy who wrote music, But not very well. Who sent to you letters of love In the mail. The kid with a love and an eye For your charm. I took your hard feelings As quite an alarm. A poet who died, because people Are cruel, Seeing his love as the deadliest tool. The dreamer who cried although nobody heard, When all that he needed was IJy One friendly word. What a spectacular place Trails to follow, rabbits to chase Let your imagination race Youth again you can taste. Lea/ve all doubts at the gate. Take a chance, don't hesitate Like the rabbit you'll be late. Look for yourself, dare to see Wild, curious, laughing, free Far from dull reality Take my hand and come with me. First stop, meet the Chesire cat More fun waiting after that Share tea with the man of hats Sit where once the rabbit sat. This is really just the start Next we'll meet the Queen of Hearts See shuffling of the guards Bet you've never talked with cards. R.C. Carlisle Untitled For a final giant surprise Eat a mushroom and change size Time escaped, we realized Now we must say goodbye. I was sitting on a Mountain and looking down into the plain. Above my head, mites above, flew swirling clouds of mist and space. The Heavens were silent, peaceful, but watching. I felt alone in the midst of all my height But even in this dark moment, this depression of my mind and body. My soul is still here above the plain, herewith the clouds of the sky. And not below, sitting beside the man that sits below upon the plain. If you need to laugh again You've taken all the you can Knock at the gate, take my hand Journey back to Wonderland. E. C. Palacios Julia Singer “Dreams” Stand alone on the docks Just beyond the beach Try to touch the moonlight That's just beyond your reach Stand alone in a meadow In which the children run Try to count the blades of grass Each and every one Why would I give you such a task Tried by only fools When every thing you've ever learned Proves these against the rules This is how I see my life And this is what it means I know my goals seem out of reach But that's why they're called dreams R.C. Carlisle “Dads” Dads are like An oak tree That stands tall And proud. And is strong and Brave, Able to hold up to Anything That would present Itself in their path. They represent pride For being the longest ■To survive. To stand straight in A field all alone. That is what Dads are for. J Jennifer Singer A Literary Supplement To “The Print” as. SR «fe
