The Quill and the man

Title

Language

English

Year

1953

Rights

In Copyright - Educational Use Permitted

Fulltext

Sfeatkness by pat 1. castellano VERSE I That is me... swollen by shadows against the whitened bed of sand. I, the man cursing the exactitude of derisive spells ol wave on rock. Note the breeze feeling the pain in my eyes soothing my blood to searching calmness while I stand frustrate but unbent by Darkness. This is my arm, my palm clutching, veins cleaving, reaching for Light: Without fear . . . against unchartered ages with mossy lichens feasting on my niche. But it must die: this Darkness, this foe! And I must find the venom's source . . . by sailing waters or scaling heights. By waters and heights? No. Springs run downward; heights may rise to dizzying altitudes choking my breath. I maybe confused: All is memory sheathed in mud of flowering plains and still forests edged by rugged peaks; my past is incubated in shell-chambers hallowed in dunes blessed by ocean kisses. VERSE II I fought clashed and fought! Plodding, wiggling, this bundle of flesh, I surge . . . into a poignant dot; my consternation dripping into the gray cup of pulsating tendons loaded with dreams. While gnawing despair unlatched menacingly dangling sharp blades above groaning flesh, from out of rays distorted in shadows scorching my lips into muteness, I suspend! Slowly my soul was fettered, stored hopes petrify, trembling into abstractness into pulseless beats. TOhij Sfwiil!.} 3 ? by a. p. awitan, Jr. why should i blame anyone if i am lonely when the world itself is a void of loneliness, a pool of tears? why should i cursingly frown if suffering afflicts me when this lovely earth is one place for this one piece of mockery? why should i desire unlimitedly for tempting finite things when i am one limited being who on earth lives only a wink of life everlasting? VERSE III But I refuse: For myself cannot be my enemy; for my toe canot be me. Darkness should stop; Light must come! I, the captive cannot be conquered; my breath bears eyes to my sight for Truth. Thus, With my touch, I felt my face, lighted my brow with gleams of hope to behold Reality. Avaunt, Darkness! Come, Light! No death can scare the undying. Ptile. by g. sison Though I am what I am, You are what you are: Bones and flesh and blood. Begotten from the dust. Though thy form is heavenly. Remember, thou art once a Part of me. A part can ne'er be greater than the whole. Nor the whole lesser Than its parts. why should i not be wowed with my existence when man is born destined to enjoy eternal assimilation with Eternal God? Page 14 THE CAROLINIAN a. 30 at/ side TZ.ose by Ledinila Amigable Has a dewdrop ever told you How lovely you are, dear? Do flirting breezes whisper Sweet nothings in your ear? What makes you sigh when er a bee Your moon-kissed petals touch? Is he murmuring soft love-words That make you blush so much? Does night in your crimson softness, Hide wooing moonbeams there? To wear upon each coming morn, As dewdrops in your hair? by ■ g. sison I i hate you because j i love you; for making | me an atom part of me, and you the whole, the j whole, the very whole of me . . . i hate you because you mean so much to me: i am but the lessee of my life, and you the lessor of the j part and whole of me . . . I i hate you because you own the whole of me, and i never own a part of you: i was not what i am, and i am what i was not before. i hate you because i and ~/K. an ^tke. lighted Oandie by a. p. awitan. jr. a child is born and gradually grows taller and taller but this candle before me is burning and slowly becoming shorter is it a candle that i see — its light eating up its slim wick? what can i expect — this long waxy body dissolved to nothingness? no, never do i want it consumed and let darkness absorb its light i will lose my appetite when i eat, the inspiration when i learn, the things it produces in my little shell of imaginations . . . the apparent visions of a sacred altar — the light of men's souls on their way to ever-waiting God. love you; for making me an atom part of me, and you the whole, the very whole of me . . . OCTOBER, 1953 Page 15

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