<<<<< Previous page
ASTRONOMY by R. Taylor
Most people think of Astronomy as the art of telling and deciding the fate of people
and nations, but this of course is a complete falsehood, for the latter is called
Astrology. Astronomy is in fact the study and science of the celestial bodies.
People however would be amazed at the distances that stars are from us, when we
consider that the sun, our nearest neighbour star, is billions of miles distant from
us. The light from the star Rigel, which we see today, left the star when Columbus
sailed.
The stars of winter are the brighter because the air is cold and crisp and the air
does not refract or bend the light.
Stars obtain their colour depending on their heat; the coolest stars are red and the
hottest blue.
The most brilliant star group or constellation is Orion (the Hunter) as it has four
really bright stars.
Astronomy is a very fascinating hobby.
FOG by Carole Murley
How strange to hear the engine of a bus or motor car,
And yet you cannot see it and you don't know where you are.
You hear some distant voices, and the barking of a dog,
Oh! what a weird experience when you're walking in a fog!
You stretch a foot to find the kerb, you take care not to fall,
And then you feel quite mad because the kerb's not there at all!
Suddenly a bus appears and flares are dimly burning,
You follow them along the route, then you've missed your turning.
Finally you grope along and hope you'll find your way,
You vow you'll get a good strong torch to use another day,
You feel as though you're in a maze and can't stand any more
When suddenly you find that you have reached your own street door.
OLD BEN by D. Watts
Old Ben's nose had had a red tint about it since he was old enough to enter a pub.
It was the most prominent feature on his boozy old face. His hair was a dirty grey and
his face crinkled with age. He was a rag man by trade, going by the clothes on his
back. This was not surprising; any conscientious rag man would have thrown them out of
his cart in disgust. But he was a grand old character; he rarely had to buy his own
drinks. He had his own private spot at the bar and woe betide anyone who was there
when he arrived.
But on that night he hadn't arrived. His spot at the bar was empty. The whole pub
was unusually quiet. There was no old story being told for the hundredth time.
Everyone spoke in a quiet whisper. "Where's Ben?" I said. My voice seemed harsh
against the silence of the pub. "Old Ben," said the barman. "Old Ben's dead."
A LIMERICK by B. Davis and J. R. Hanline
There was a young man from Tring,
Who could ride like a bird on the wing,
In every big race he was sure of a place,
So they made him ride backwards and sing.
LEAVES THROUGH THE WINDOW
by Christine Rudd and Joy Dowers
There was a Science master,
Who had a disturbing disaster,
Some leaves through the window,
A junior did throw,
And out of the window
The master did go.
A few minutes later,
He arrived through the door,
And the lesson commenced,
As well as before.
BOOKS TO READ
"The Charge of the Light Brigade" by D. Watts
"The Old Curiosity Shop" by S. Strange
"Above us the Waves" by B. Diver
"Oliver Twist" by L. Moore
"A Night to Remember" by D. Dey
"Scouting for Boys" by C. Barrett
"Wagon Train" by J. Flint
STAFF POPS
"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" - Mr. Dunhill
"Cruising Down the River" - Mr. Rowe
"Swinging Down the lane" - Mr. Gates
"All American Boy" - Mr. Jenkins
"Theme Music from 'The Cruel C'" - Miss Clarke
THE OAK TREE by Haig Chimchirian
There it stands, great and strong. The winds and rain of winter, the sun and drought
of summer have fought him - yet he stands. His leather-tanned bark is indented with
the scars of these battles. The branches are like outposts conquering new ground by
ever reaching ever farther into the unknown. In winter he looks forlorn and dead, but
his great strength and pride demand that he should be the beauty of a summer meadow -
where cows find shade, where boys find adventure.
EARLY MORNING by B. Tye
The streets are silent. It is 4.30 in the morning and still dark. The faint buzzing
of an alarm can be heard, and a beam of light is suddenly flashed across the road, as
a light is put on. Everything is silent again.
In the distance the faint drumming sound
of a horse's hoofs can be heard, the sound gets louder and a horse-drawn milk cart
turns the corner. As it does the silence is shattered as the road surface changes
from tarmac to cobblestones, the axles of the cart grind along. The cart stops and
the driver gets out, his steel tipped boots making scraping noises as he unloads
bottles of milk with a great deal of noise.
Suddenly, out of the fast fading darkness
comes another sound: the milkman spins round too late. The cyclist who was ringing his
bell crashes into the milkman causing him to drop the crate he was holding. The sound
of splintering glass and metal mingle together with the whinneying of the horse.
Another shaft of light falls across the road as a curtain is pulled back to
investigate the commotion going on outside. With curiosity satisfied, the curtain
slides back into place, leaving the street in the dim light of the misty dawn.
TWILIGHT TIME by Haig Chimchirian
The day grows quiet,
After its exertions;
The sun dozes:
The world's flirtations
Mournfully pray for rest.
The sun dozes,
The night flows in with zest.
Overtaking day? No!
The sun sleeps.
LIFE by D. Watkinson
Inevitable cosmos, earthly stature
Of heathen gods,
Expressing backwards, the primitive aspirations
of futile Adam.
Shattering hues of seemly lightning.
Energy to belittle kings.
Life is madness,
Junkies are,
Three score and ten
Of bleak routine, conformity, morality.
Only to end, in
Death.
Next page >>>>>
|
Archive index