The Mockingbird
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East Tennessee State University Digital Commons @ East Tennessee State University The Mockingbird 1978 The Mockingbird ETSU Department of Art ETSU Department of English Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.etsu.edu/mockingbird Part of the Art and Design Commons, and the Creative Writing Commons Recommended Citation ETSU Department of Art and ETSU Department of English. 1978. The Mockingbird. Johnson City, TN: East Tennessee State University. https://dc.etsu.edu/mockingbird/35 This Book is brought to you for free and open access by Digital Commons @ East Tennessee State University. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Mockingbird by an authorized administrator of Digital Commons @ East Tennessee State University. For more information, please contact [email protected]. CONTENTS page PHOTOGRAPHY: Bob Palmer (First Place) 23 Paula Anderson (Second Place) 17 Jon Buchanan(Honorable Mention) 30 Kathy Lewis (Honorable Mention) 3 Kathy Lewis (Honorable Mention) 11 PRINTS: Art Taylor (First Place) 12 Jon Buchanan (Second Place) 7 Bev Yokley (Honorable Mention) 29 r Connie Morrison (Honorable Mention) 24 Ted Aguirre (Honorable Mention) 4 ,. DRAWING: Kim Guinn (First Place) 18 Tom Lawhon (Second Place) 33 Amy Green (Honorable Mention) 8 ... SHORT FICTION: James Mintz (First Place) 14 Marlane Agriesti (Second Place) 28 POETRY: Jim Anderson (First Place) 5 Anonymous (Second Place) 13 Tom Lawhon (Honorable Mention) 6 Tony Clark (Honorable Mention) 11 Rick A. Davies (Honorable Mention) 27 Rick A. Davies (Honorable Mention) 36 Mary L. Foxx (Honorable Mention) 13 ESSAY: Kay Decker (First Place) 9 -..,• Bonny Stanley (Second Place 25 "· OTHER CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS AND POETS: Amy Tipton 20 Van Perry Rose 21 Gary Kellar 22 Mary L. Foxx 22 Jackie Grindstaff 26 39 Karen Laws 27 Peter Montanti 24 Velmer Rock 37 Dennis Watson 38 Cathryn Blalack 39 KATHY LEWIS Honorable Mention Photograph 3 4 TO JEAN'S KID Time was when a mooncalf It commenced to flow stirred -- sublimberly, in our mother the sea in a sanguine glow. long ago, before her face was even wrinkled. Her wetbird body crouched. The moon moved her, her foggy face cleared. the sun lay hot upon her her pulse became a wave rolling tides for That flung her gasping for eternity, except when a blinding beach. passion wearied into the cry that jumped clouds -- then they were apart, and longing held From off her tongue even air's breath has held so many forms, until the tall rain but quite this one washed them together. Before; she looks like you, her mother said, Somewhere, sometime, who let's name her Jean. could say, the river spouted, swelled beneath the sea's emotion, inhaled till it had filled her belly, Most rivers start till it had breathed all the water, then, as springs there, where the huge thighs were stretched or pools of rain: round a continent, there the river spilled, the muddy earth drips, stood. and trickles meet in creeks, and waters fall down Soon mere land ponderously was flooded, drenched, to the sea. years remained the only Most rivers, all but one, channel. but that one runs in ...and reverse through a bedrock change: the main flow of years, and moves forked into phylum, to turn its sluice genus, an artery splinters into blood. into capillaries, thousands 5 of species of rivulet forged So, you want on, and where a trickle a new wet the dust, something dress shook itself, and breathed. Something new Not a sound ... to wrap but something strangely that mother-starved kin ... resonates motherly body resonates. of yours The right tone will in make a room And we'll all feel new resonate, a normal in our sweet pastels sound becomes much ...God how will I explain greater, the if she sees that- whole room sings. she'll get offended At times me talking about her matronly body not a sound ...but it's true but something strange Even her eyes resonates are matronly-- downriver. I'll never have a sister she says Now and again a creature she'll never have a child- remembers, recollects, that doesn't stop me being a tells the river story. perpetual brother-- Tells it with the body, we invent the things tells it from the beginning we cannot be when the earth and sky Oh,-- I was just thinking of you Curled up into an egg and that new dress and hatched a trillion new surprises; the tale unfolds I was thinking of something with soft sloping lines- And likewise does the teller. something which follows the body moves from plant the pear-shape of your body to fish, from gills to Something soft depending Lungs: sound like healthy like your mother bosom- ones, her mother said, but I didn't say this i think i'II call her Rachael. to you JIM ANDERSON TOM LAWHON First Place Poem Honorable Mention 6 JON BUCHANAN Second Place Print 7 AMY GREEN ti n Drawing Honora bl e Men 10 8 OUR MOUNTAINS KAY DECKER First Place Essay With the dawning of each new sea then merging quickly with the trees, son in the mountains, the fever for ex we made escapes Tom Sawyer would ploration - that desire for the excite have envied. ment of discovering unknown paths - The mountain stretched one long, would flood through our veins until sparse arm down to the top of our hill. the urge could no longer be denied. Here we entered, immediately sheltered My brothers and sisters and I would from inquisitive adult eyes. Since it abandon our squabbling, united by a lay within the boundaries of family common goal. Together, we sought property, we felt as if this small part the opportunity when, for the few rare of the mountain was exclusively ours. moments our parents' attentions were Affectionately, if inappropriately, we focused elsewhere, we could skip away called our claim to the mountain "the to continue our explorations unham Jungle." We spent many happy hours pered by their watchful eyes. here as small children, before our ex Despite our youth, the knowledge we panding minds and bodies led us to had accumulated through numerous seek further horizons. expeditions greatly exceeded that of A deep gully divided the Jungle into most adults. Nevertheless, Mom wor two halves. The gully no longer served ried when long hours passed before we as a water runoff, and decaying trees reappeared. had fallen throughout, providing a Living at the foothills of the same spongy, moist brown carpet, spotted mountains he had explored as a child, occasionally by a small patch of soft Dad knew the temptations his children green moss. were subjected to. Yet he also knew the One side of the gully sloped sharply dangers of the alluring forest, where upward. At the top of this steep slope, the same sun-speckled shadows which small but stout pines sheltered the gully. camouflaged fawns often concealed Battered by the elements, these pines rattlesnakes. And, knowing the care had only a few sparse branches; how free abandonment of children at play, ever, they extended their sturdy lower Dad usually joined Mom in her cau limbs invitingly only a few feet above tions. "Sneak off like that one more the gound. Short legs and arms were time, and you'll wish you hadn't," he just long enough to reach these lower would warn, attempting to be stern and branches, and these became our favor not quite reaching his goal. ite trees. Scrambling to the outer edges Despite their worries, our parents of the limbs which extended over the knew it was useless to hope their gully, we built a small tree house from warnings and threats would be heeded; which we could guard the front en the moment the opportunity presented trance to our Jungle. itself, we wasted no time. Sliding under Blackberry briars were scattered the rusty wire fence at the foot of the throughout the Jungle. Although we hill, pumping laboriously to the top, greatly enjoyed the berries, the bram- continued 9 bles served still another purpose - that bite of cold winter air, and carried a of providing much-needed coverage hint of the spring to come. when we played cowboys and Indians. On such days happiness and joy were The Jungle still echoes with our as natural as breathing, and even the battles. "Get that Indian - he's behind loser of snowball fights could not re that rotten log," a cowboy would yell. main angry for long. At such times Seconds later, the bloodcurdling Nature, too, rejoiced; our shouts re screams of the "captured" Indian re sounding through the trees were as verberated through the Jungle, and much a part of the mountains as the counterattacking Indians dashed silence which prevailed on dark autumn through the foliage in pursuit of a flee afternoons. ing cowboy. We learned much from the moun When, at last, we tired of re-creating tains. We learned the forests can be history in our battles, we found evi gentle, yet harsh. Soft spring winds dence of ages long past when we pro that nourish the newly-blossoming ceeded farther into the forest. Trees foliage can become a cruel tempest began to look older and bigger, and overnight. The mountains taught us to many had fallen, resting in various enjoy nature, yet respect it; and that stages of decay until, at last uniting often, simple happiness comes not with the rich dark loam of earth and through a driving search for the end of fallen leaves, they nourished new seed a golden rainbow, but through relaxing lings. in a place we love. The soft rustling of leaves and branches overhead, the occasional snap of a twig underfoot, and some times the whistle of a bird or rustle of a small animal in the undergrowth were the only noises invading the still ness of the forest.