Newspaper Page Text
6
MAY, 1968
The Panther
CLARK COLLEGE POET'S CORNER
WU _4 Wa„ J. JJurt Wit JSm
By Carrell Smith
By Carrell Smith
The sight of blowing tumble
weeds four months after the
state fair,
Brings pleasant and keen mem
ories to a heart of dispair.
Once you were in love so much
you could not believe,
But now you are all alone and
your only companion is grief.
As the world turns you can
find no peace of mind,
And your misery is prolonged
with a heart that aches with
each moment of time.
There is no true sleep or feel
ings within your soul,
Because you are facing reality’s
hand which is so very lone
some and cold.
Your will power is weak but
you must try to love on,
Your heart is very heavy and
your tears very strong.
The only thing left for you now
are memories and hurt,
For although you are human
your worth measures dirt.
Everything you have had, you
no longer possess,
And there is a daily and con
stant attempt to put a won
dering mind to rest.
As the days pass you are like
an empty shell by the sea
shore,
That waves back and forth and
nothing more.
The dark and stillness of the
night makes you blue and
sad,
But when the dreadful early
hours of the morning come
you suffer twice as bad.
When I am lonely, depressed
and blue,
There is only one thing that
makes me go on living and
that is the love of you.
But I never knew there existed
a girl so faithful and true
that could ever be mine.
I want to see and be with you
each and every day,
But instead I will restrain my
aggressive soul until the
time comes when the mar
riage vows we will say.
A day with you alone would
only mean more happiness,
For I would explore a universe
of sensation from your
tenderness.
Let me have your mind and
heart,
With this I promise no reason
for us to part.
Your love, soul and body I
need,
For there is no one else in the
world for me.
My thoughts are of no one but
you,
So ideal love of mind think of
me in all that you do.
“CJ
~sra
,-EtU
Black brothers who cherish
black, as fate,
Still cry out,
‘Let’s integrate.”
I love black and for this I
fear
With complete integration
black would disappear.
Our great, great grandchildren
would not longer feel,
The deep down soul we hold
so dear.
How to go on living seems to
be a daily task,
And the face you present to the
world is only a mask.
No future or hope, you feel
you cannot win,
For no one could ever know
the hurt man feels within.
“What’s happening, baby,”
would cease its meaning
For no longer would soul
brothers exist, for greeting.
Instead there be a “gee wiz,
guy”
For we’ll have truly kissed
black soul, goodbye.
A Bit Of Truth
The years of torment will be
in vain
With all its tears and blood
and pain.
For equal indentity, we fought
and felt right.
But not for likeness for black
was never white.
Seek from society that they
own,
And use it will, to succeed this
goal.
Remove our slums and in
their place
Build houses, stores of no
disgrace.
Form our police force of all
black,
Who know the evils holding
us back.
Raise up our children to be
no fools,
Have concerned teachers in
our brand new schools.
Our black legislator with our
help, shall last
And change all the laws that
hurt us in the past.
To fit our world we’ll have
our constitution
This I think, is our only
solution.
We scream “We’ll Equal’
but Mr. Carlies deft
Before we convince him,
let’s convince ourself.
. . . Roger Elston
It was a beautiful day and all
seemed well
Until the news hit the world
like a giant bomb-shell;
Then everywhere people began
to say
That someone ha taken a
King’s life away;
Yes, everywhere people began
to cry:
“Oh God! Why did this man
have to die?”
Yes, it was this man, Dr. Mar
tin Luther King, my friend,
Who fought the enemies until
the very end;
He fought for freedom for you
and me,
But he will fight no more,
because now he is free.
And Americans slapped him
again and again;
He Walked with pride through
a very sick land
Begging all men to join hand in
hand;
He had a dream, but it was
never fulfilled,
And a sick society had this
King killed.
Thirty-nine years old was this
great man,
But not once did he sleep in a
peaceful land.
Dr. King has gone and can’t
lead us any more,
But he left us the key, now we
must open the door;
He fought for human dignity,
yes he fought so very hard;
Will we let his death unite us
or will it tear us apart?
No black man can ever forget
that warm April day
When a sniper took this King’s
life away.
Now we’re asking which way
should we turn,
Should it be non-violence or
“Burn-baby-burn”?
We’re also asking what America
will do
To make our King’s life-long
dream come true!
by Eddie L. Embry
WJithout
'LJou.r ejCo<
Dedicated to Janet Fowler
How desolate my life would be,
How dark and dreary my night
and day,
If your lovely fact I did not
see to brighten,
My dark and weary way.
For your face is like a beautiful
bed of flowers,
Blooming in the spring and
your voice like
Pleasant music that our little
feathered friends sing.
Your love is so precious, kind
and pure, without
Your sweet love, How long
could I indure,
For I need your love more than
a flower need rain to survive,
Without your sweet love, I’ll
thriot inside.
Your love is like a sweetly
scented bloom that
Fills my heart with loves per
fume and put within my
Soul a gay and harmonous
tune that makes me sin it
Mindless to the unlite moon.
By Sharon Clayton
Lester Maddox is his name
Governor of Georgia was his call to fame
Education he had none,
His only feat was cooking chicken until well done.
He owned a restaurant named Pickrick,
If you got in his way he used guns or picks,
Keeping Negroes out was his goal,
But he didn’t know his restaurant was about to fold,
And the Negroes shouted bless his soul.
A religious man he seemed to be,
He went about trying to make the state free,
From gamblers, gansters he tried to bring back the prohibition age,
He also made plans to give the teachers a higher pay wage.
He preferred Wallace in the presidential game,
The end of the war he proclaimed,
Lester Maddox is his name,
Governor of Georgia was his call to fame,
But we all know that he is insane.
He stood like a rock, a giant Your love is like a sweet per-
among men, fume upon the breeze
CLASSIFIED ADS
Wanted: Experienced exterminator to rid Clark College of
unusual species.
Lost: Several new ideas for the next Panther.
For Rent: One empty booth in the Foreign Language Lab.
Missing: That good old get up and go that has got up and
gone.
For Sale: One slightly used draft card.
Free: One exciting vacation in Viet Nam. Applicants must
be physically fit and 19 years of age or older. Apply at
your nearest Local Board, and go where the action is.
Wanted: Impressive grades for the second semester — Will
accept A’s and B’s.
By Jay—Tee
That comes from the vernal
blosom of the sweetly
scented appletrees.
And like a flower never fading
Grow, your love whispers
sweet and love melt my
heart like April snow.
Never have I found a love that
inspires, enobles, and en
lightens another’s way,
Love so rare but fair.
Love that bring so much en-
raptureness, ecstasy, and
Blissfulness from day to day.
Never have I found a love so
incentive, incessant,
Eternal changeless, pure.
Love so true, complete,
Serene, secure.
. . . d.b.r.
"Don't give up
underclassmen
but if you give
up, don't give out"
Visitor: Can you tell me where
the science building is?
Frenchman: I’m sorry, but I’m
just here on an athletic scho
larship.
Prof.: What three words are
used most among college stu
dents?
Student: I don’t know.
Prof.: That’s correct.
Dad: Well son, how were your
grades this year?
Son: Underwater.
Dad: What do you mean under
water?
Son: All below “C” level.
Auntie: And how did Jimmie do
in his History examination?
Mother: Not very good, but it
wasn’t his fault. Why, they
asked him things that hap
pened before the poor boy
was bom.
Jokes
What went hippity — hoppity
through the mud?
The Easter pig.
K. Alston
A normal person turns pages by
licking his fingers and turning
the page. A queer turns pages
by turning the page and then
licking the fingers.
What’s green, oval, and flies?
A super pickle.
MAYS DEFEATS . . .
(Continued From Page 1)
campus for students with higher
pay.
This election may truly be
seen as a struggle between two
determined men to lead Clark
College through the rain, the
wind, and the snow. It was a hot
campaign; times became op
pressed and explosion was in
the making, but James Mays
and Robert Flanigan are to be
congratulated for maintaining
their cool.
The Panther staff commends
both men on a job well-done
and a campaign well ran.