Montage 1996

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/ÿo.ÿ,Se The Literary Magazine

Quinnipiac CollegeHamden, Connecticut

Spring 1996

Margaret HoffmanKaren Dionne

Anne McCauleySerena Agusto

Pie BarillasAnna Bitgood

Sandra Lombardo

Meagan MahonChristine PrideAmy Wolling

Fÿulty Advisor Mark Johnston

Montage dedicates this issue to Mark Johnston whohas served as advisor for the Montage over the past 15

years. May there be many more years to come!

Table of Contents Page

Three Leaves

The RoseThe bell that tolls"Pray tell me... "

Mors Certa, Hora Incerta

Inside

Sensuality of a WomanMistaÿn GhostBurning a Poem

Advantage In

I Understand

Lancers

Man Who LeftPop-Pop"During everyones' lives..."

The Thirsting Promise

Unguided Rhyme"She cringes in a..."

An Unbroken TapestryA DeadMan's Pÿbuttal

AwakeningIncense

Poor LucifirA Mother andDaughter

Black Mailboxes and Yellow Shingles'7 am sitting in class..."

The Biggest WordDate Unknown

This God Winter

Christine Pride 5Serena Agusto 6

Philip A. Goduti, Jr. 8Jeremy Clifford 9

Anonymous 10Kevin Jacobs 12Rene'e Butler 12

Kimberly Phipps 13David Woods 14Carrie Maltese 15

Karen Dionne 16Loren Annelli 18

Colleen Kirk 19Mary Margaret Larkin 19

Lori Deery 20Mary Margaret Lariÿn 21Kimberly Mangiacapra 22

Colleen Kirk 24Anonymous 24Anonymous 25

Kimberly Mangiacapra 25Karen Dionne 26

Anonymous 28Latarsha Thomas 29

Kimberly Phipps 30Meagan Mahon 31

RK 32Karen Dionne 33

Colleen Kirk 33

of Quinnipiac College!.

27 March 1995Cry of PÿgretMemnoch 's Wishes

Meop Area IInner LifiA Life Drifted Out to Sea"7 went to the woods..."

Beneath the Shadow of a Rainbow8 July 1995My AngelA Child's PrayerThe NSedle 's AddictionTwo Ships Passing in the 9ÿht

Gretchen Bowman 34Christine Pride 36

,ÿmberly Mangiacapra 37

Anna Lisa Bitgood 38Kevin Jacobs 38

Laura L. Catalano 39

Jeremy Clifford 40Anonymous 41

Gretchen Bowman 42Anonymous 44Lori Deery 45

Christine Pride 46Meagan Mahon 47

It has now been over fifteen years since the original editors of Montagecame to me in 1981 andsaid they wanted to start a literary magazine at

Quinnipiac College. Two of my own children have came to and gone from

Quinnipiac during that time, and g,[ontage has undergone its ups and downs

as almost every literary magazine does. Constant throughout these years has

been the students' desire to eÿpress their ideas and emotions and to put them

before the student public. This desire is keenly evident in the new issue of9"[ontage that you hold in your hand.

Margaret Hoffman and her staff have been extraordinarily diligent andenterprising in their efforts roger 9ÿ_ontage going again after a brief lay-offThey have solicited support f!om a variety of sources, and they have profitedfrom the contributions of many student writers and workers. Margaret,

especially, is to be praised for her hard work and for her faith that that hardwork would yield a magazine the entire college community can be proud ofThis issue of g,fontage, as well as the student-organized poetry reading this

semester, reminds us that creative writing is alive and well at Quinnipiac.

I hope you enjoy the issue. Feelfree to drop a note to the 9,[ontageeditors at Box15 to show them you're behind them!

Mark JohnstonFaculty Advisor,Mÿntage

/ÿo.ÿ.,,ÿ, The Literary Magazine©

o

/ÿo.ÿe The Literary Magazine

Welcome to the return of the 51€'ontage! Themagazine

you see before you is the culmination of hours of hardwork and dedication by this year's staff Back in

August when I sought to resurrect the 51fontage from its shallow grave Ionly dreamt of a publication of this scale, l hope that you enjoy thiscompilation of student work one that represents the creativity hidden hereat Quinnipiac.

There are also many people to thank in producing a magazine akethis so I will try to keep it short. First off, I would like to thankouradvisor, Mark Johnston, for his continued support, not only of the 9€'on.rage and its staff, but also of the spirit of poetry here at OJzinnipiac.Thank you to Steve Gottlieb for his guidance in the organizing and co-sponsoring of our student poetry reading this Spring, a tradition I hopewill continue and grow as the years go on. To PauI Wolansÿ, thank you

for your words of wisdom and for planting the seed of motivation toundertake this endeavor. I extend my most sincere than£€ to my staff forall of their hard work and dedication. We have succeeded in bringing the9ÿontage back to lift, keep fighting to keep it alive. Lastly, to all thosewho submitted work for publication, thank you for talÿng a risk andbaring your souls for the masses. I wish all of you the best and urge you tokeep your creative spiri'.s alive.

I willdepartfrom Quinnipiac in May, butproudlypass the torch onto those still here in hopes that it will burn brightly for years to come. Tothose of you who like what they see here and want roger involved, fielfree to drop us your name and box number so that we can contact you.

Please send your comments to Montage at Box15.

Three Leaves

Margaret HoffmanEditor-in.Chief5hCantage

of Quinnipiac College

Enjoy!q

Three leaves

running

with the wind.

Pÿminds me

ofme and my brothers

Playing tag,laughing,

just being children.

Three leaves

wiltingbecause we're growing apart.

Separate ways,

living,different lives.

You and lfriends

'til we part forever.

2

christine Pride

Page 5

Rose

A rose is only as beautifulas the words

that cannot describe it.

The beauty of the roseseeming to be unsurpassable

except by the beauty of you...

Your beauty is like a beaconrising in the East,yet never setting.

It shames the rose

to be so inadequatenext to you.

Though your beautyis never a murderer of the rose,

it is a nurturer.

You help its beautyto grow

and become stronger.

Its beauty surpasses all thought,all words...

A rose, its own sculpture!

/ÿo,-,t-,ÿSe The Literary Magazine

The rose thanlÿ youfor all you've done,

but never truly satisfiedwithout you by its side!

Once you ÿnored its thorns

now you've baclÿd away

from the rose you love.

It pricked you one dayand you ran away

but now the rose withers...

lf you could ignore the thornsalong its stem

just one more time

I'm sure you won't get hurt this time...

he Foge

withering awaywanting your beauty

to be her beacon

just forevermore

Please if you couldnurture her beautyas you did before...

of Quinnipiac College Page 6 Page 7

bea'that toffs

A,,,ÿ,,,,ÿ¢ The Literary Magazine

Wam

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Ph ip A Godu , Jr.

Page 8

--'Prey tell me anything new that has happened to a man anywhere on

this globe - and he reads over his coffee and rolls, that a man has had hiseyes gouged out this morning on the Wachito ÿver; never dreaming the

while that he lives in the dark unfathomed mammoth cave of this world,and has but the rediment of an eye himself.ÿ

Henry David Thoreau

You're my passion and my friend.You 're my savior till the end.You're my salvation and my home.You 're my anchor t 'will never roam.

You're my star in a lost sea.

You're my heart and the only key.You 're my lÿhthouse on a stormy night.You 're my blanket when I fiel fright.You 're my candle in a aghtless room.You're my prayer in the face of doom.You 're my Angel who watches over me.You're the dove that makes me fiel free.You 're my cloud in the big blue sÿ.You're my wings when I want toffy.You're the wind that moves my boat.

You're the water that keeps me afloat.You're the bell that tolls when my ship arrives,The bell that proves that I am alive.

©

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Page 9

/ÿ1o,,ÿ-ÿ,ÿ The Literary Magazine

I,

Mors Certa, Hora Incerta

I awoke early in the morning andpeered throughthe bedroom blinds. Fog blanketed the ground and a greymist lay in the air astir as my eyes couldsee. I fumbled forthe light switch on the bathroom wall and reached for myrobe to cut the morning chill. Stumbling to the lÿitchen, lcursed myself, for I was still experiencing the effects of lastnight's outing. David was in bed, and l knew I had awhile before he would recover and awalÿn from his slum-ber. I fixed myself a steaming cup of java and made myway outside to enjoy the stillness of the morning. The aircarried a cool breeze, sending a chill down my spine. I

shook it off and made myself comfortable on the porchswing, hugging my robe around my bare legs. A light rainhad begun to fall and I watched as the drops left their markupon the brickpathway, ultimately merging into a largepool which rippled with each new drop. The thickfog stillhung in the air, its small white clouds hanging off the treelimbs and hovering over the pond.

Suddenly, in the shadows I saw a vague outlinemoving toward me. I pulled my robe in closer to fight offthe brisk wind that suddenly stirred around me. Closing myeyes, I tried to erase the fiar within me. After talÿing a fewdeep breaths to relaÿ I told myself it was all in my head,my mind still cloudy from last night. I pried my eyes opento see the figure moving toward me with no apparenturgency. I felt my muscles begin to tense. Afraid tobreathe, afraid to move, my gaze remained fixed upon the

of Quinnipiac College Page 10

figure. It's outline became more defined with each ap-proaching step. I could now malÿ out what appeared to be

a man, but something within me toldme I wasn't quite

right. A sudden rush of air escaped my lungs as ! tried tocall out to David. All efforts were to no avail. I wasparalyzed upon that swing, with the impending sense ofdanger looming over me. Moving closer still was thisfigure, its pure white body blanketed in mist. The tensionin my chest was slowly building, the fiar within megrowing stronger. 9ÿver before had l seen such a figure.

9ÿver had my mind imagined such a creation. The figurepossessed no distinguishable fiatures. Its pale body movedeffortlessly across the grass, hovering a fiw inches above thewet blades. It gazed at me with its coal black eyes, itshollow stare passing through me into my soul. It was thenthat I realized its intentions. It was here to grant me

deliverance.

A sudden wave ofpeace washedover me as it

extended its hand for me to take. With remarkable ease Iarose from my seat, the grass cool and damp beneath myfeet. I followed it off into the encompassing mist, turningone last time toward my home still visible through the fogwith its shuttered windows and flowered garden. Theporch swing moved list&ssly in the breeze. A pure whiterobe lay upon its seat.

AnolgyrrloIlÿ

Page 11

InsideA mirror loolÿ backat me,

It's a poweÿul gaze, a paralyzing stare.

The face changes, the parts are left free,It metamorphosizes but I don't care.

I have an internalpumping, my souEs the same,

My fieings don't change, my fiars remain.My eyes water, I have the same name,

Everything I see isn't me, ! shouldn't have to eÿplain.

I couldbe anyone, looklilÿ anyone andl do,But its what you can't see which makes me,

Its what the mirror doesn't show you,

But maybe, if you lookpast the mirror, who I appear to be,You can see the real me, the part no one can see.

Q

wI.

vin Jacobs

Sensuaaty of a Woman

I've started a trend of purity. Guiding the preciousunborn souls to fineness. I bless the house of courage, now I

ask-- who am I? For I fiellike I should be shamedinstead of glorified. The enrichment of being a gified woman

has led me to learn more about the struggles of life.I know at times we share andlookupon the father to bless

our mistakes, but the endless struggle of evil lurks in thebottom of our hearts, at times I feel it beating in the

chest of every woman, breathing when we breathe. On the

other side I quote another man's misfortunes

shall be gain through another woman's eÿpense. I follow mysisters into the creation of more sisters. Sisterhood

shall be our determination and our souls shall be ourguidance. Lift every voice and sing my sisters for today

has just begun.

neÿ Butler


V/ÿo.e,,3;¢ The Literary Magazine

Mista n Ghost

Transparent but tangibleliÿ€ the wind whistling

on a freezing winter nighthe floats

deviFs horns above a browngolden halo

for a split secondI can see him

white like bonesblack hair and eyes

he standsblocking

my doorwaycackling like a witch

he manipulates as ! move from room to room

Even as I push him back to his worldhe haunts

forcing me to tiptoeas not to waÿdÿ

the living

jmberly Phipps

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Page 13

Burn a Poem

Those words I wrote

Burning Crackling Stooling Dying FlyingMalÿ fluttering ashes, set free by flameLike jolly moths to live in the flicÿrDance in the air for the moonAnd the page is gone.

Advantageln

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While the devoted authorShould last for fifty years

To trudge the Miasma

For fifty fifty yearsBurning Crackling Smoking Dying Flying

For fifty years

burningcrackling

smokingdying

David Woods


e

e

ee

The whistle blowsher battle begins.

She uses her racquet

as a sword.

The ball,she approaches with caution.

It becomes her anxieties and fears.

She decides how to hit.

Feet prancing like a colt,soft, long strides left and right.Her eyes glowing, fire engulfsher mind.Sword raised, contact is made

a grunt released by the opponent.Another stress unleashed---

the yellow sphere flies over the net.A point awarded--one more

problem deflated.The battle is won, her sharpened swordawaits.

carrie Maltese

Strange that devoted wordsIn a hot living moment escape their meaning

Page 15

I Understand

We rode our bikes togetherThere were quiet sounds in the street

Because it was supper timeAnd we were late

The pedals squeakedAnd the chains rattledI couldsmellthegrillLike always, I asked if you could eat over

The Literary Magazine

innloanl.

IN

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d.

Soon we discovered boys had some sort of purposeWe didn't see each other as much

But we had a lot to talk about when we didLong conversations about love

Bÿ questions, bÿ heartbrealÿWe talked it outWe cried, we cursedWe had each other

I'd pick you upWe'd go shopping

Grab something to eat

Sometimes we were crazy because we were youngThe only two best friends in the world

Our laughter echoing and resounding in our earsEveryone else was an outsider


I toldyou secrets

Hard for me to admit tO myselfYou told me secretsBut l still accepted youI still loved youYou did the sameThe bÿggest, most sacred, promise we had

We never spoke of itBut the belief in one another

Was unique for usIt lent itself to this promiseThe only promise we gave a chance

"Hi, I'm in Florida...I won't be backfor a while."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fm fine ""1 can't believe you did that!""1know.'

'God, f m going to miss you.""1 know, l'llmiss you, too."

°We'll see each other."

"Yeah, Christmas time maybe."

;..Weft..."

"Talk to you soon?""l love you.""I love you, too."

Click

After school, you came overWe watched Oprah on the floor

Maybe we had some Macaroni and Cheese

Then, we went to my room

Rcad a magazine, laughedListened to music, laughed

Then you ate over, like when we were youngerWe joked with my little brother at the table

Later, I walked you halfway home

Double dates togetherTrips to the lady's room together

To chat, mostly to exchange impressions

That laughter againLater, maybe tears, but only passing tears

I guess we had to do itThere was no way out

I was so happy when youfillin loveYou were so proud! went to college

You bought a carAnd drove away with him

Igor your call at school

Karen Dionne

o

©

Page 17

/ÿL,.ÿe The Literary Magazine

Man Who Left

o

Ravenous and mad

fierce warriorsinvade the field.

Growling, snarlinglike wild carnivores.

The beast within

begging to be freedstaring deep intothe sinister souls

of their opponents.

Lines in rows the

insane creatures

anticipate the orderto attack. A piercing

blow of the horn.The battle has begun.

Pÿtnning, smashing, slamming

collisions of plastic andflesh haunt the air.Within the pile ofentangled bodiesa soldier appears

eyes fixed with concentrationbelow his sweaty brow,

treasure grippedsecurely in hand,

sprinting, leaping, dartingover and between the

iron cannons.

Goal focused in sight.5 yards, 4 yards, 3 yards, ...

Victorious cries from

the army prevail.TOUCHDOÿ.I

Loren Annelli

'It"

He thought he saw a sliver of sunthrough a crack in the closed brown door.He put his eye to the craclÿ loolÿng for more,but all he saw was the dark-filled bottom

of the shadowed, dry, dust-covered canyonwhere he'd chosen to live, close to the core

of the rocky blue earth...Far from the sun,

crouching, pale, behind his wooden door,

he began to whine. There's only one

thing, he thought, that i do wish for,and it isn't my children, my wife, or even the roar

of best-loved friends (he thought). The onething I miss is the touch from the sun.

colleen ÿdrk

Pop-Pop

! thought losing you would be so hard.But I realize where you are now is

credit to us all.Many people mourn, yet ! look to above.

Knowing you're my guardian angel showsyour immense love.

NOt only for me, but for all that holdyou in their hearts.

You've done Gods work on earth, and

now you are commended.

Stay close and know you are trulyremembered.

Your granddaughter,

Mary Margaret LarÿJn

of Quinnipiac College Page 18 Page 19

..e

During everyones' lives there are friends who standby you and

cheer you up when everything loolÿ low. They give you just the rightwords of advice and always have faith that you will come out on top.The moments you share are forever in your heart for that is where allspecial times are lÿpt. And when you realize just how important thesespecial people are to you it is evident for: it's the tone in your laugh, thecare in your heart, and that prayer you say to God for bringing thesespecial friends into your life.

But there are other special people which will fall into your pathswithin a lifetime. And somehow, somewhere these special people youmeet live in your heart and take over your soul They know when to sayall the right words and the way they can change your perspective on somany things amazes you. It's the slÿp in your heart, all those anxious

steps you takÿ just to see their face, and the glow in your smile you showwhenever you're around them, makes a person helplessly in love.

But what some people fail to see are those strangers who walktheir daily paths and never take the time to stop and give one goodglance. These strangers, these unfamiliar faces you pass each and everyday could be that special person you've been searching for your wholelift. People who hide from these strangers are those who are timid andunsure of their inner self. Once a person hides their identity they fail tosee all of their beautiful qualities which lay within their soul So manyunique things lie behind the faces of everyone, but what is more uniqueare those who are free to share with anyone and everyone their inner

beauty.

And some people you come across will only care about outer beauty

but when a person's inner beauty is seen their whole perspective on liftcan move into a whole new direction. Confidence, happiness,

contentness, and a fieling of fulfillment are filt and eÿPressed throughthe lÿght in their smile, the strut in their walk and the warmness intheir heart. So live each day grateful for those friends and lovers whopass and live within your pathe of your ÿfe, but never be afraid to showthe rest of the world and yourself your true happiness- your inner

beauty. For no one can feel real love until they learn to love themselves.

iÿqÿ,,,ÿ,ÿ The Literary Magazine

Petals by petals fall briskly into desirablepalms.

Falling...

but the attempt to paste some

back overpowers me,

the alteration of agenuine bud.

pairing the petals is absolutely neverpeTfect,

For the failure to see the complete,

untouched des(gn conquers me.

The truth of not seeing the beautifulSpring flower unfolded, fails to

suprise me.

For ! want a rose,

yet, it is only adandelion.


Mary Margaret Larl n

fÿori €.Deery10/20/95

Page 21

And so I will write to my heart's content.

Without any barriers, they'd have me bent.

I wish to rhyme tonight I do,askme why.l haven't a clue.

Flowers bloom on April days,or May they say with yellow rays.

Does it rain inside your heart?

Will the pain again depart?

.eÿe The Literary Magazine

!

If I let you in to play,You would not go, you would stay.

And if you locked yourself inside,wishing, only needing to hide-

You could sit and dwell in peace,and your heartbeat would never cease.

1n fact it would quite calmly beat,Along with mine our hearts would meet.

Acÿoined inside and outside too,

our eyes would give us both a clue.

I couldnot lookaway you see,

for into you I wish to be.

n of Quirmipiac College Page 22

I couldnotgo inside just yet,the place for me, it is not set.

I wouldn't know just where togo,however in some time, I will know.

Your place is set aside in me,

and some day you will own the key.I do not ofiengive thispassage,

however you proclaim the message.

Inside your soul is so much love,

soaring within you ake a dove.If1 could catch the beautiful bird,my love would soar, not unheard.

So hold my hand and feel my heart,the beating, pounding would just start.

It never ceases tO amaze me,

how deep inside me you can see.

I have already let you in,without a word, like sacred kin.

Do not leave me cold and lost,

my heart you see it has a cost.

You cannot buy or sell its worth,

you will, however, see rebirth.

For in your hands you hold my faith,in your eyes I see my face.

I willnot runfiomyou in fear,for if I ran my heart would sear.

I willholdon with allmy might,and I will gain an unseen sight.I couldnotfindit ifI looked,it is unwritten in my book.

But as I walk along our path,the reasons will unfold a cast.NPthing has or will be broken,just a map and special token.

To lead me to a final place,where in your arms I will be safe.

ff(dmberly Mangiacapra

Page 23

6/ÿqo.ÿ5¢ The Literary Magazine

She cringes in a

faraway corner,

Afraid of that handabove in the air.

She searches to findsomeone who cares.

Her screams ring

out into the n(ght.Stinging tears roll

down her face.

She doesn't have enoughstrength to fight.

She reaches out forgentle arms to embrace,

But all that is thereis the cold air.

Her safe world hasnow been shattered.

!

an Un&o n Tapestry

Human beings immerse themselves in pain.

The question, is why thoughIt's as if the pain is a silÿn thread,,that we ever so carefully weave,

into a cloth.

What's the purpose of the cloth, though?It's a covering; a shield.The threads of eÿperience combine together,to overlay themselves upon the being.Therefore, the challenges of tomorrow,

may not be so cold and brittle,to the previous nalÿd soul.

Anonymous


Colleen ÿrk

A DeadMan's Pÿbuttal

Rest easy, I am in a better place

Cry no more tears, they do me no good

And most of allStop aslÿng "Why?"

Haven't you ever wondered what else is out there?

Weÿ I was tired of wondering and wanted to find out the truthSo now I dwell on the other side of the glass

This two-way mirror is my advantage

I watch youI watch them all

Carrying on, piclÿng up the piecesBut still they ask "Why?"

While all I ever asked was "Why not?"

Allonymous

Awa n

Disillusioned by the morning sun, afternoon breeze and crisp evening air.Unaware of the future, past and present.

Disarrayed by all that encompasses within.A strong windblows leaving a clearpath ahead.

Green is the vibrant color,Blue, my savior.

mberly Mangiacapra2/12/95

Page 25

Itlc, cn$¢

The smoka from incenseIs fragrantHEAVY,Lifÿ a mandelicate

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It stretches and C

SCurvy, like a woman

It grinds and wrapsIn I I

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balletsand in slow dances

cloying with emotion


TE

Page 26

Around my head.

In my eyeslts choreography spontaneous, smooth and

SatisfyingI smellitI see itI can almost hear it singe and whisperIt covers me

HEAVYI reach out to taste

The warmth of my breathMoistens itIt slips awayLeft only with senseThe incense

¢/14o,,ÿ,ÿ, The Literary Magazine

Page 27

Poor Lucifir

b/1A,,.-.,-,,.ÿ, The Literary Magazine

A Mother andDaughterAlthough we're not together,

I know we're never apart.

Your loving maternal instincts,

bind me- from womb to heart.

me and space separate us,

taking its toll each day-but its mother to daughter love,that never lets me stray.

iimmmo

As Death reared its ugly headI filt the chill of its icy gaze shiver through meWith that stare it drew me inTempting me with its lavish wordsTo enter its dwelling so dank and dismalInside the mindless souls drified about entrancedPairs of glazed eyes fixed upon the emptiness before themIt beckoned me with its slender digitScraping the air with that deadly clawBut it was not my day to dieMisguided by some temptress of follyDeath perceived thisRealizing its efforts were in vain9ÿ captive in this dungeon could it make of me9ÿ chains around my soul could it secure

Its power was not so great as to overpower Life

And wrench my soul from its white-knucÿled grip

Anonymous


pl.

You guided me from day to nÿght,With every tear you took from s(ght.I looked to you through sun and rain.I came to you with allmy pain.

With words of wisdom, motherly love,and heavenly guidance from up above,I stayedon the path that he hadlaid.My mother,

your strength, was never in vain.

Like the umbilical cord to uterus,wires and cords to a phone,the bond that connects us,

has a strong hold.Although we knew this day would come,I welcomedit with cheer,1sometimes used to cry at nÿght,

I know it was from fear,that I would have to malÿ my way."1 won't be here forever,"

was a thing you used to say.

So everyday I strive for you.With God and prayer,l'll make it through.

I long for the day that l'llreturn,My home,My heart,the hearth I was reared.

Latarsha ThomasPage 29

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Black Mailboxes and Yellow Shingles

A "For Sale" sÿn stands

by the blackmailbox.Green grass, morning dew.

Apple tree in bloom,fruit strewn about the yard.

€'ÿ HOuSe°..

love fills the rooms,smells of oatmeal.

Grandma plays gin at the ÿtchen table,Grandpa reads TIME magazinewith his fiet proppedon the old green hassok.

Grandlÿds eating sugar with oatmeaL.

By the black mailboxplaying tag, trading lunch,loolÿdng at young, yellow shinglesof memorable moments.

Apples fallsilentlyon dew sprinkled grassunder yellow shinglesby a "For Sale' sÿgn

near the black mailbox.

ffÿmberly Phipps


/ÿo.ÿ,ÿ The Literary Magazineo

I am sitting in classno idea what the teacher professes

staring out the windowI am suddenly swept away on a journey to

out thereover the hills I travel

! soar over and then dip down and through the mass of trees.l fiel the warm beams of lÿht,

that peak through the forest roof and run through me.The dampness of the air sheltered by the trees collects on my face

I am not merelyflying anymore, but soaring, gliding.Behind, I leave the forest of trees and sheltered air

and am hovering above a body of water...stream, pond, ocean, bay...

I do not know andit does not matter...

Tranquility, peace, wholeness, understanding...

are aft I fiel, all I am surrounded by.A coolbreeze sends a shiver up my spine

in a vain attempt to awaken me

from this dream.

But it is not successful and l won't let it.Over, down, and through the mountain peaks

that are spattered with random spots of greenery.

In a fast backward motionI enter backthrough the window I hadlefifiom

which to my displeasure was left ajar.I awaken

to find my head on the deskwith a stream of drool trickling down my chin forming a small pool on

the desk...

I awal@nto discover a stare of faces

wondering where I had gone.

Meagan Mahon

Page 31

rgie B ggest Word

Love is t& bÿgest four letter word knoÿam to humans.

Can it be seen, touched, tasted, or heard? Or only filt?

Date Unknown

b

We see love in the face of a small child; in the beauty of the heavenson a clear nÿght.

We smell love in a rose dripping with morning dew; in the air aftera rain storm.

We hear love in a birds song early in the day; in the cry of anewborn child.

We taste love in the first sip of wine after a long journey; in ahome-cooked meoZ

We fiel love, whether intellÿent or dim-witted, deaf or dumb,

We

to love.

RK

.I


old or young, healthy or ill, tall or short, thin or obese,crippled or blind, we fiel love in our hearts!

need not have sÿght to love, touch to love, taste to love,

sound to love, we need only hearts and feelings,unobstructed by intelligence,

Page 32

Did anyone ever raise the questions: How can we say something

so priceless, so cherished, so treasured, so easily? Do we reallyknow what love is?

Forgiveness is the lift of the sunshineHope is warmth caressing fertilityI walkthefull, lushfields with you tofindStubborness must yield to humilityI hear you whisper amongst theflowersRoses can never grow without their thornsLove will always be undying powerSo roses grow with petals to adorn

These fields were once a furnished, stale sand pitThe desert home to a soul-torn, bleeding

The heart bleeding here remains torn and rippedBut now with thoughts of reunion-seedingThe choice never mine to make or to do

I walk through thesefields and remember you

1"ÿn ÿionne

God Winter This God WinterThis bitter GodTo demand the worldIn broken stalks and pale sunThis grieving manLaden in silent painArrayed in still fieldsThe whispery seed and brittle nestAnd stooping to adorn his daughterln garlands of dandelions and glories of larlÿThis God WinterDying softly in crystaline patches of whiteEverywhere across the tawny grasses

colleen ÿrk

.eÿe The Literary Magazineo

o

Page 33

I!

27 March 1995 "May the Lord give you a rainbowput a song in your heart and

teach you toffy.ÿahh, to soar in the heavens above.., peace

with sandles upon my fieta skip interrupts mygloomy stridewith the awesome stars overhead

my fiet begin to pass by one another at a quicker pacethe shrubs that line the brickpathway

reach out and tak¢ hold of my handENERGYtransfirred

i begin run, gallop, spin, smileyea!!

surrounding beauty fills my empty soulthe wind glides through my hair

seÿinflicted frustration vents from insideagh- it festered there ALL DAYLONG

without hesitation, i happily let it golove, affection, tiding, warm fuzzies

scare the shit out of mewhy?

i fiel so free to spread hugs and warmthbut, when they are reciprocated...

i get scaredthink think thinkthink

no, don't do it!

every time, without fail, i get tangledi portray my negative self, my insecure, yuclÿe self

unhappy and angered at my actionsi dwell

it takes so much strength from within to snap out of ityes, i know (here we go with some positive reinforcement)

every time i fall,i alwaysfindmy way back

to my true self


¢/ÿqo.e,,Se The Literary Magazine

silly and freewhy is it that i allow my self to stray?i know it only induces frustrationfrustration of self that i unintentionally spill onto othersGOd,teach me that it is okay to let go, let Godwave your armS,

put up barriers,

jump up and down shouting my namedo not allow me to enter the red zone of thought-i askso much of you, dear God-i get so angry at myself when i aslÿ ask asl;u but do not giveplease know,i am by your side if you need to callupon someonei lookup to you every daythe spiral of life makes me dizzynever, though, have i lost s(ght of youbeautiful and immenseyou are the sun, the moon, the flowers, the birds

the sofi grass beneath my barefiet, the blue sÿyou love-i feel itwhy can't i open myself and fiel love from others?this fear i have,where did it come from?who planted this seed which has grow to shadow,darken my sense of self?i believedeep within there is a sun ray in my soul shining brighti seem to protect it, though, with allmy m(ght

open the fiststear down the fallslet people inallow them to walk the path to your heartwhere love, security and harmony dwell,no need to worry-

the angels and i are there protecting you(ahh... a smile forms) .ÿretchen Bowman

Page 35

o

o

offer

NoA

q.

With one shutter, a breath good-bye

He prays for help, then asks God "WHY?."He can fiel the taste of morbid wineToo bad he tested that one last line.

He shakes and shutters darkness is herePleading for help there's no one there"Please," he cries, "Don't let my day be lost.

I see my mistakes just let me live to pay the cost."

But as he speaks the nÿht swallows his heartNO more last words to tear the dark apartThe sun has risen on the other sideAnd before it sets one more will have died.

christine Pride

I


There's a man dying by the sunA doveflies the day is doneHe sheds his tears he knows he's dyingHopeless and scared he stops trying.

/ÿo.tÿ,ÿ¢ The Literary Magazine

Memnoch 's Wishes

The Paris opera house would not be the place.

The rainy courtyard could never compare...

I could and would not trust you enough

To either meet you here nor there.

Be honest my devilish friendDO not praise the lÿght

You do not know the first thing about the sun,And to hell with you I will never descend.

Leave me more about your eyes

You see I adore Blue

I couldnot lookinto themWithout you playing a disguise.

Who is this one I seekI must know why the time has passed

I have loved and lived many timesbut mon chere [ am not meek

Leave me more or I will go

Nÿver will your minion get a treatand you will have to leave me

minion and Memnoch will never know...

jmberly Mangiacapra2/96

o

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Page 37

Meop Ama l

My hands write what isn't mine

My words are another's thoughts

My soul is on paper...

My eyes see what is to beMy heart follows dead end paths

My dreams are exactly that°..

My hands grasp what isn't mineMy words, my thoughts, my fielings

My soul is on paper...

Anna Lisa Bitgood

Inner Life

Sugar sweetens the hardened pair,

But I know the cure..

What the yellow taste should be,Just don't let the days be free,We need the time to breathe,

There's too many locks and no keys,Weekdream Reality...

Savory sounds in different worlds,Eyes always open but not bright swirls,

Zombies in a sheltered world,Don't let the day lock your mental roam,We need the day to escape and be free,

Life is the lit inner circle of a tree,Weekdream Reality...

vin Jacobs

My eyes see what isn't

My heart feels solitudeMy dreams are exactly that...

Vd/lo,ÿ-.,,.ÿ¢ The Literary Magazine

Lift Brified Out to sea

once in awhile we'd take a stroll by the river,

It seemed to always be in constant motion, as though life was passing

usby.Sometimes we'd watch the rapids, we used to wonder

where they'd lead to.

He used to say, "Deep down there, where it is completely

silent, is where peace can be found.ÿ

I felt at peace.

Maybe, that's why he took his life there, to be at peace.

Once in awhile, alone, I stroll by the river.

I wonder, why? Why didhe do such a foolish thing?I guess he felt the rapids would carry his soul away from

his problems.Maybe, he wanted to become a part of the place he always

envisioned as peaceful, the earth.

Sometimes, I watch the rapids go by, but now it seems asthough time has frozen, and l think of the moments we once

sharedÿ

I stillfeelat peace with myself, but I wonder if he everfound his.

Laura L. catalano

©

©

tÿ of Quinnipiac College Page 38 Page 39

/ÿo.ÿ,ÿ¢ The Literary Magazine

.lof Quinnipiac College Page 40

.. °I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to

front only the essential facts of life, and see if l could not learnwhat it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I

had not lived."Henry David Thoreau

I Beneath the Shadow of a Rainbow

Friendships.How many there are in this world,And each one is different, special..Sometimes we ask ourselves what life would be like had we never met.Without someone to share our innermost thoughts, joys, fiars.

Waling beneath the shadow of a rainbow.

Yet we test it at times.

Try to see how long we can survive without it.Feelings get pushed aside and trampled on.Trust gets lost along the way...temporarily.

Wallÿing beneath the shadow of a rainbow.

We find our way back again.Pÿturning to the comfortable familiarity of our friendship.To the one who knows the real person hidden from the world outside.Unfortunately we don't live in a pegcect world.

Sometimes a friendship's strength is tested.And when we come face to face with the worst, yet, still survive,

It is then that they say we have...

Walked beneath the shadow of a rainbow.

AÿtonymouS

c3

Page 41

p8 July 1995.-after a visit to bullrun regionalpark-- virginia

I search for my GODI lookinside myself-where has He gone?! must step out of my shelter

6/ÿoneÿ,Se The Literary Magazine

in the depths of a forest,surrounded by trees of green

I begin to searchI am looking, listeningmy God, where are You?I hike along a muddy riveronly able to see the rays of the filtering sunlÿht and the shadows of thehovering trees

but, not my reflectionwhere have You gone, my God?why can't I see You?

the running water, the warm sun, the music of the swaying leaves-

I absorb it allahh-a tree

it stands so strong

its confident energy gives me couragethe tree maintains my attention for a long while...

gmq

a dying breedabout to surrender to the heavensits branches reach to the blue sky

as I am caught in a dance with this tree of open arms,

an eagle peacefully passes overheadand joins us in our dance

I love birdsi'm so envious of them

free and hÿghliving above and beyond the craziness of people land

flirting with the treetops, the sun, the clouds and my God!they are beautiful

I settle upon afince, my eyes following theflÿght of the eagleI lose sÿght, though, of my friend as he falls behind the trees

eyes wide open, heart full, hopes highhe has disappeared

waiting, wondering...

I see a cross

the trunk and two extending branches let me know that my God stands rightbefore meI smile, tiding comfortedandloved

my hike continues along the dirt pathahh- another tree

I search out statues of Gods mÿghty presenceeach carrying a message to me from my GodI am eager to listen, to learn, to befilled-

standing naked, with no leaves to clothe its dried barktrees of vibrant green crowd around,yet this tree seems so alone

it is the tallest and the oldest of the bunch

of Quirmipiac College Page 42

zÿ

the curtain of the green trees parts andsix mÿghty eagles make an appearance

they are amazing!they circle the sky's stage together

ahh! my God!!always, He is with me, right before my eyes

offering me company upon my hikemy journey through the forests of life

He is the running river, the path beneath my fiet, the blue sky over head,the dancing tree, the circÿng eagle-

! am sailI am not alone

I shall not fiar-

I search for my Godmy high, flying friend

peace, comfort, love, fieedommy self

I am calledmy God challenges me,

Gretchen Bowman only in the end to reveal His everlasting loyaltyPage 43

o

An Angel with two broken wings.A moon saysgood-nÿght at dawn.

Majestically stands on her,Marble pillar, silently cold.Whispering chillingly, a winter's song.

A Chil£s ayer

Standing above her mortal surroundings,Raising her arms up to the sky."Please Lord talÿ me now,

Soften my wounded cries."

Understanding disparity and what must be done.Fill heart with angelic form.Stand hÿgh upon the mighty pillar,Stand hÿgh to look upon.

Be guardian to those that are hollow.Be lÿnd to those not so strong.

Watch over those, who too,

are ripped and torn.

My Angel, my Angel,don't leave me.

I too, have fallen.

Look upon me, cry to me.

My Angel, my Angel,don't leave me.

Hear this, I'm calling.

Come to me, rescue me.

My Angel, my angel,I too, am frightened. AIIoÿtyTÿtouS


Rhythmically beating through a turbulent storm,Wings were ripped and torn.Plummeting to the earthen ground,

Crying solemnly, so sound.

"Bless this child Lord, "for he is unaware of the troubles his future holds.

Allow him to achieve his goals and have a successful life without abusingdrugs and alcohol.

Please God give Your beautiful creation the strength to live a happy lifewith dreams that come true.

May You create children who live safely and happily; but most of allbeaeve in You, the Almighty, and know their life should be cherished eachand every day.

Oh beautiful creature, "treasure what you have for it could be gonetomorrow," understand your own internal strengthe with the

understanding that sometimes, "the good die young."

So sweet dreams young one and dream your dreams, love your life for it isprecious. But never forget that you will always be watched through theeyes of the Lord, and if you feel like you are alone He will always be rightthere; close to your heart to pick you up and guide you through yourdifficult patÿs.

Lori ÿDeery11/16/94

/ÿ1,,,,ÿ,5e The Literary Magazine

o

Page 45

The a acaon

Im

The arm needing the needleWanting the pleasure, tiding the pain9ÿpt understanding repercussions

Of the poison in the veins.

The needle is addicted toThe prickling of the skin, a drop of bloodThe flesh on his bone eaten away by a drugTraclÿ on the arm like a lost trainForbidding and yielding death.

A needle passionately kissingBurning blood bitingIt knows no other feelingExcept delight, actually anguishNÿmbness surrounding

Black darkness suclÿng life

All because the needle was addicted. ....

christine Pride

i


The clear venom runs throughPulsating veins of blueFate is the handsWrapped tight around the syringe

InjectingLove's lost poison running wildMating with the cells, annihilating'ÿll the blood dries up.

U/14o,,ÿ-,,L,ÿe The Literary Magazine

Two Ships Passing in the 5ÿght

Saian, q too swiftly, yet struggling for a glancein hope for one sÿght

Perhaps,

if luck should be the reason,they'll share the kiss of a passing wave

or be pushed closer by a friendly change in currentor shift in breeze.

Though sure enough,

the only thing they will shareis the shower of the moonlight

under which they passand which they will carry with them

in their continuous flÿght.

No change in current

or

shift in breezeto provide a greater glance or sÿght

So, they will wait until their next chanceto be once again

two ships passing in the nÿght.

Meagan Mahon

Page 47

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Montage would like to extend their gratitude to the followingindividuals and organizations for their support of our magazine:

PPg er St-rangHelen BarilDavid Cole

Marvin Turnipseed

Sÿgnian McGearyDennis OpheimMorris Woskow

Kathleen KelleyPaul Wolansky

David HallJohn Bennett, Provost, for the college

Student Government Association

qÿie ÿrave and qÿie C/ironidefor the use of their computers and office space for layout

Campuÿ Copgfor typesetting and printing of the magazine

.ÿ of Quinnipiac College

Montage 1996

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