Newspaper Page Text
May 1985
Spelman Spotlight
Page 11
HONORABLE MENTIONS...
‘Reminiscing in Intervals’
A quiet mind now,
gathering thoughts for a few minutes,
off and on,
all done in intervals;
A questioning mind,
rewinding and gathering ideas for a few minutes,
moment - stop - moment,
all done in intervals;
A conquering mind,
regressing and uniting ideas for a few minutes,
time after time,
sequence after sequence,
quietly, silently, secretly, and honestly,
all done in intervals;
A wondering mind,
reflecting on yesterday,
searching, finding, loosing, uniting, dividing,
spreading, narrowing, and borrowing
all interests and allowing all feelings to
evolve in intervals -
off and on,
time after time,
moment - stop - moment,
and sequence after sequence.
—Cynthia P. Thomas
THE WRITER
She is obsessed with perfection
The writer and her diction
She knows there is no easy way
To overshadow the friction
She writes the Standard English
She claims she knows no other
She is obsessed with Moby Dick
And pities poor Othello
Her education extends beyond
And when she does look back
She finds that she has lost a root
On the other side of the tracks
—(Arizona)
DAWN OF THE MUMMY
I am, essentially, a very lonely person. I think I always have been. Even as a child, I remember
feeling a sense of loneliness. I remember being home alone nights watching t.v. I remember sitting
on the front porch afraid after watching a scary movie, waiting for someone to come home. I don’t
want to watch the scary movies alone anymore. I’m afraid. I want to share my life.
I am, essentially, a very lonely person. I think I always have been.
Even as a child, I remember feeling a sense of loneliness. I remember
being home alone nights watching t.v. I remember sitting on the front porch afraid after watching a
scary movie, waiting for someone to come
home. I don’t want to watch the scary movies alone anymore. I’m afraid.
I want to share my life.
—Shirley Ann jones
The Following Poems Were Selected From
The Poetry Contest Entries For Your Reading Pleasure...
I REMEMBER SUNDAYS...
Live From A Fool In Love
I remember Sundays when we relished each succulent moment of peaceful relaxation
before Monday.
I remember Sundays when love became silent and playful in the evening sun.
I remember Sundays when summer breezes stroked our satisfaction-filled souls.
I remember Sundays when quiet became a part of us after the rain.
I remember Sundays, though long past and I remember you
—Patricia Y. Willis
LLP
When I saw her dark brown hands
Coloring those piano keys IT WAS GOLDEN
Mastering the music the White-man made —
I said, Teach Me
When I saw her full round lips
Liberating her soprano voice
Recreating the song the White-woman sang
I said, Teach Me
When I saw her deep brown eyes
Reexamining the History
Commanding, Understanding Business, Chemistry
Biology, Physics, and the process of Analysis
It was golden in my mind therefore time shall never cease,
To remind me of its soothing worthiness and peace.
That thought I had of you it was golden in my mind,
I wish that clock in my heart I could constantly rewind,
To that first real kiss you put upon my lips,
You parted them with your love and my soul began to tip.
Now my heart has control, because it was golden in my mind,
That thought of you and me until the end of time.
—Jennifer Jackson
I said, Please Teach Me
Please Teach Me
For I can do that too, and even more
I liked what I saw
And then loved what I liked:
What a fool I was
For not seeing the light.
Everything seemed beautiful,
Vibrant and free,
As my juices began to flow
Like an everlasting sea.
My heart, mind, body, and soul
Began to spring, jump, and fly,
As I fell deeper and deeper in love
With a beautiful, yet lonely guy.
We grew closer and closer
Until we became one,
And this began the breaking of a heart
That I thought could not be undone.
I was in love,
Yet quite alone,
Lost deep within my shell,
And who was to blame,
Or ‘Could I tell?’
Miserable I was
With nowhere to go,
I began to write and call.
Because I needed to know
Were my feelings shared
By the one I loved?
Or was I wasting my time...
Only He knew above.
The time is the Present,
And I don’t write or call
But don’t let this fool you
Because I am still in love.
That’s right!
You heard it
Live, from a fool in love.
—Anita Hollins