Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1949)

r^ Hello There: Every time a new year turns the corner . . . we try to make certain resolutions . . . Some of them toe may have made before . . . ivay back there . . . and didn't keep. Some are brand new, like every new day. But I guess the year or the day doesn*t matter much as long as there is at least one worthwhile resolution to make every time the clock strikes midniglu on a new beginning. The best rejiolution I know of tvas made thousands of years ago . . . and is so ancient you may think it as worn out as the cover of the book it came from ... but it needs no brand new date to make it ivorth our while. If we resolve to DO UNTO OTHERS AS WE WOULD HAVE THEM DO UNTO US tve have begun the year with the clearest of high hopes for the future. — Ted Malone. UNTO THE HEART A ghost can be a little thing . . . Like a tennis racquet without a . string, A cigarette case, a pair of glasses, An old brown hat, two season passes. A ghost can be a tender thing . . . 'Like baby hands too small to cling, An old love letter, lines from a book. Words to a song, a remembered look. A ghost can be a silent thing . . . Like a telephone that does not ring . . . Books on a shelf, an easy chair. Guns on the wall, suits pressed to wear. A ghost can be a welcome thing . . . Like memories a moonlit night can bring, A picture^s smile, a dream that is wanted. The kiss of a child— (MY HOUSE IS HAUNTED!) — Robbie L. Donaldson END OF THE BOOK Llfe*spap«rwcover«d novel May pall a bit with age — Bui oh, I sholl be sony To turn the final page. —I. R. Und TO A CALENDAR You have no power over winds nor zain. Nor snow upon the evergreens, nor sleet. And yet we turn a page, and think, "Now sweet The zephyrs of the spring will blow again," Or "Summer goes, here, in a blaze of glory," Or "This will be a sombre time at best/' And we take core to turn you carefully, lest The year be interrupted in her story. But have I not known chillest winds io blow Through warmth, and found, in laughter of a child. Spring in November's gray? Do I not know Peace of an autumn night can bloom in wild Snow-storms, and hove I not perceived the glow Of summer in me, whenever he has smiled? — Elaine V. Emans THE MIRROR IS YOURSELF There is a time when, nothing soid at all. All words are possible — no action made. All choice is ours; whatever coiuse we call. We dare to follow on it unaircdd. But every choosing points the newer one — The nortii leads farther north with every day. The south leans ever closer to the sun — We speak tomorrow's thought with all we say. In vain we ask the mirror not to note The choices past which lend the future fear — To smooth each line of record that we wrote Day by swift day, slow year by crawling year. Now, all our thoughts made visible at last. We are our future, we ourselves our past. — Virginia Scott Miner GROWTH I'm growing older, there's no doubt. And furthermore, I'm growing stout. But luckily for my peace of mind, I'm growing wiser and resignedl — Thomas Usk PRAYER FOR THE ESSENTIAL Give every man his dream — and let it be His star to guide through vast immensity Of doubt and shadow ; light to penetrate The gloom dark circumstance may well create; A gleam rekindling hope's sweet sorcery. The dream will be for each the magic key To liberate him from life's tyranny, To swing for him enchantment's jewelled gate — Give every man his dream. Having his dream for open-sesame To Happy Isles, let each go fearlessly With banner high and faith inviolate . . , 7hat we have private courage for his fate ■ or fall before each new inclemency, Give every man his dream. i-B. Y. Williams IT'S NICE TO FEFL NICEABOUT NOTHING There is no sun— in fact, it's snowing ! 1 ve no idea where I'm going lo spend the day; it's only Monday, And nothing special happened Sunday, i" v'lfj ,' '?^' " ^'""8« elationAs 11 1 d had an invitation To someone's wedding, or a shower. And this is growing by the hour. '""« ,'S no reason for it— really l VJ" ,^° P"'"'" w«S"'' mealy; My favorite fruit is out of season. But il-the world must have a reason, Say of my beautiful sensation, Ihat, though it has no real foundation, I most emphatically endorse it. And, were it law, I should enforce it And, were it not, I'd still adore it Because there is no reason for it. — Faye Chilcote Walker HILL CALL Radio Mlnror's Prize Poem I would go iMck to the dreaming hlllt And the Aelds below When the land 1% huihed and Ihe valley fllli With Ihe drifted mow, Bm my •(».. are //steer fliaii tliaie I wore Wke» I c/imked Ik. blmkttKl hiiU iiefere. I would go back when Ihe ipring awaket, Ai Ihe heart hai planned. For Ihe river thaw> and Ihe green blade breaks Through Ihe walling land, Sifl my gown h ffg/iler llran one I wore Wken I croKed awolening >lream> before. I would go back lo Ihe lummtr hllU Where Hie ikylarki neil. For the daiilei blow by Ihe languid rllli And Ihe land It bleMed, Sul my skirl » fong.r Ihan wfieo I came ftroug/i iIm c/over Ae/d and Ik* ifonebecf fane. I would return lo Ihe amber hllli With Ihe autumn breeie, For Ihe fleldt are paled ai Ihe color apllU Through Ihe lunloved trees, Bui llie wind weufd fangfe my lacquered /Wr, For file broidi were cut (kof I uied lo wear, Af (lie Mei were cut when Ike land wot told. I would go back, bul the heart It old. — Pegaiui Buchonon RADIO MIRROR wiii pa^ (i(i^ doitar^ for the best original poem sent in each month by a reader. Five dollars will be paid for each other original poem used on the Between the Bookends pages in Radio Mirror. Limit poems to 30 lines, and address to Ted Malone, Radio Mirror, 205 E. 42, N. Y. 17, N. Y. -When postage is enclosed, every effort will be made to return unused manuscripts. This is not a contest, but an offer to purchase poetry for our Bookends pages. Be sore to listen to Ted Malone's morning program, Monday through Friday al 11:30 EST, over ABC.