1m; CADRE , 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     De Literary 
     
     \The literary section of 
     
     the Cadre was conceived 
     
     with the idea of sharing 
     
     some of the creative wealth» 
     
     of our University community. 
     
     In my search for material 
     
     for this section, I haVe 
     
     seen and felt soom of the 
     
     creative forces that are 
     
     alive and well at U.P.E.I. 
     
     However, it seemed unfortun- 
     
     ate that there appeared to 
     
     be little exchange of this 
     
     _creative spirit. Rather, I 
     
     found it scattered here and’ 
     
     there: finding someone who- 
     
     knewesomeone—who—wrote- 
     
     poetry. As well, I have- 
     
    
   
   
    
     experienced rather good 
     
     poetry that one of my profs 
     
     decided to share with his 
     
     Class. It is our hope this 
     
     section will reflect the 
     
     many styles, moods, and 
     
     perspectives that one finds 
     
     within a university body. I 
     
     have seen writing that 
     
     caught some fleeting moment, 
     
     a full one, or an empty one: 
     
     in a song, in a poem, peoples 
     
     capturing the daily flux of 
     
     their lives, or the long 
     
     term themes that thread 
     
     themselves in and out of 
     
     our dreams and mythologies. 
     
     Such creations captured the 
     
    
   
   
    
     TUES., FEB. 26,V_1974.Page‘9‘ 
     
    
   
   
    
     flow of streams—of— 
     
     .consciousness, search for 
     
     self, identity, a strong 
     
     Island pride, perhapts a 
     
     longing for a home far away, 
     
     amger anerebellion: poems 
     
     that manifested themselves 
     
     as a secret place where one 
     
     could find, unburden and 
     
     celebrate oneself. Possibly 
     
     this literary section will 
     
     encourage the creative 
     
    
   
   
    
     \spirit to become more 
     
    
   
   
    
     active on our campus and 
     
     Poets, as yet silent and 
     
     unknown. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Pamela Sexsmith 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     ,Little pieces of me 
     
     everywhere: 
     
     in a drawer, «A 
     
     under a chair, ‘ 
     
     in an overcoat pocket _ 
     
     hanging on a closet hook, 
     
     packed away in some box 
     
     'in some long forgotten 
     
     book, 
     
     in a family Bible 
     
     withered and old, 
     
     in an heirloom chest 
     
     with the silver and gold, 
     
     in the heart of a woman, 
     
     in the soul of a man 
     
     i lost in some child 3 eyes 
     
     or in some garbage can, 
     
     be it in the hand 
     
     , or just in the mind 
     
     r-everywhere you look 
     
     you re going to find 
     
     little pieces of me. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Dale McCluse 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     & 
     
    
   
   
    
     _Ik ' i , Photo by Winston Maund 
     
    
   
   
    
     The last quiet snow melts 
     
     with a quiet laughing 
     
     trickle 
     
    

    
     And small rustles of falli 
     
     falling snow. 
     
    
   
   
    
     \ Small mice rustle and sque 
     
    
   
   
    
     squeak I 
     
     Through the dead dry grass 
     
     Digging homes for new_ 
     
     families. 
     
    
   
   
    
     VThe gentle breezes fan 
     
     the golden sun s warmth 
     
     Dancing with the cricket 8 
     
     song. 
     
    
   
   
    
     And the new grass grows 
     
     straight and tall to 
     
     entice 
     
    

    
     And sing to the wind 5 
     
     harmony. 
     
    
   
   
    
     With gentle whistlings 
     
     and rustlings 
     
     it murmurs with the wind 5 
     
     caress ' 
     
    

    
     -—« And roars with the wind 5 
     
     roar, 
     
    
   
   
    
     bending to the fierce storm 
     
    
   
   
    
     He sings to me 
     
    

    
     we walk through the grass 
     
     And my heart sings with 
     
     him 
     
    

    
     the meadow our couch, 
     
    

    
     The sun and wind our‘ 
     
     -witness , .‘ 
     
    

    
     and the cricket orchestra, 
     
     Our attendants. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Geraldine Baker 
     
    
   
   
    
     My Contrast 
     
    
   
   
    
     The sharpness of the day 
     
     And its ugliness, 
     
    

    
     Is hidden at night 
     
    

    
     I By its softness. 
     
    
   
   
    
     How cruelfiis the day. 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     To expose all our secrets 
     
     ~But how friendly the night, 
     
     To leave them concealed. 
     
    
   
   
    
     The day, 
     
     The night, 
     
     ‘How much more contrast, 
     
     Do you want? 
     
     ' Louise Mould 
     
    
   
   
    
     A Distinct Sixteen 
     
     -Line Impression 
     
    
   
   
    
     Sun. Meaningless through 
     
    

    
     d ‘ glass, 
     
     catches an eye: her face, 
     
     exhaling. ' 
     
     She is silent. 
     
     An old lover comes by, 
     
     and now they assume poses: 
     
     mid-room, mid-afternoon. 
     
     Groping for memories 
     
     that never were, 
     
     they are satisfied by 
     
     renewal. I 
     
     Love. Meanwhile is 
     
     on the street, 
     
     alone, K 
     
     dealt through dirty 
     
     hands. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Larry Leclair 
     
    
   
   
    
     If one wanted to count the 
     
     number of things, 
     
    

    
     How could one be sure that 
     
     They Weren’t running behind 
     
     behind you, ‘ 
     
     getting back into the list 
     
     again? 
     
    
   
   
    
     There is so much I love in 
     
     this world, 
     
    

    
     (You for your confusion and 
     
     honesty) 
     
    

    
     “ But I cheapen it so often! 
     
     It must hate me for that. 
     
     But of course it’s 
     
     indifferent. 
     
    
   
   
    
     This may sound like 
     
     something you might have 
     
     read in another time and 
     
     space..... 
     
    

    
     I wanted you to anyway, 
     
     We are self fullfilling 
     
     prophesies, 
     
    

    
     But I_am not, as you can 
     
     see, 
     
    

    
     free yet. 
     
    
   
   
    
     I 
     
    
   
   
    
     PameIa Sexsmith 
     
    
   
   
    
     How long does 
     
     It take to 
     
     make a 
     
    
   
   
    
     poem 
     
     9 
     
    
   
   
    
     How 
     
     long does 
     
     It take to 
     
     Draw a Breath 
     
    
   
   
    
     Rand Nicholson