Classic Compositions

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Submitted by Terrebonne High School Alumni
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A SPECIAL PLACE
THS

There is a place that I keep special-
In my heart most every day-
A school that I long ago attended-
Now many miles away.

It reminds me of a time-
When I was very young-
And everyone around me-
Was always on the run.

This boundless energy that we had-
Was taken then for granted-
We thought that it would never end-
We thought we would always have it.

But years went by and with those years-
Not only time was changing-
For with those passing years we knew-
Other things were re-arranging.

The boundless energy we once had-
Just seemed to slip away-
And a little more quietly said goodbye-
With each of our passing day.

We heard of friends no longer with us-
How could that possibly be true-
Not my friends with the boundless energy-
Not my friends that once I knew.

It seems that time is not always kind-
But one thing seldom changes-
Memories we have of the friends we knew-
In that school we once attended.

By-Claude Peter Dhuet
THS Class of '41
09-27-2003

THE SETTING SUN

I see in the distance before me-
A picture worthy to behold-
Painted in colors of such beauty-
In colors yet untold-

For there lies an ocean beyond
my shore -
As far as my eyes can see-
Bathed in the light of the setting sun-
A magical golden sea.

Soft clouds drift by, adorning the sky-
Each with its own design-
Arranged with colors as on an
artist’s palette-
Colors that boggle my mind.

A ship that I can hardly see looms
on the horizon-
Floating on so vast a sea it’s
like a toy-
Enveloped in a haze of purple colors-
Bringing dreams of far off lands
as a boy.

A seagull silhouetted by the
setting sun-
Knowing now its day is done-
Slowly gracefully flies my way-
Looking for night a place to stay.

I stand there in a momentary silence-
The picture that I see impressed
upon my mind-
I wonder if God painted this picture
just for me-
A gift for me that’s only mine.

By- Claude Peter Dhuet
September 16, 2003

The angel hovered just above-
The lifeless form below-
A life that started with a cry-
Not many years ago.

Come now my son, you must arise-
Your work here now is ended-
You have fought for right and freedom-
Your country you have defended.

We go now to another place-
Where peace and love abide-
And join your comrades who will
greet you-
In your heavenly home on high.

All those you love, and those
who love you-
In their hearts you will forever be-
The one who gave his very all-
That the living may be free.

By - Ex Sgt, Claude Peter Dhuet
USAF WWII
Aug. 27, 2003

THE MORNING SUN

The day is dawning, the sun is waking up-
He shines his cheerful face upon the earth-
I feel the warmth of his radiance
upon my face-
I stand transfixed at the wonders
of this place.

The long shadows that he casts creates an eerie feeling-
I feel as though I am in a magic land.
Dewdrops shine like diamonds
on the grass-
Each petal dancing a ballet of light.

I hear in the distance a bird calling to his mate-
Wake up the sun is here to greet us-
We must not be late lest he be offended-
He loves to see the brilliance of our
plumage in his morning light.

A lazy brook that has been dormant
for the night is waking up-
Each ripple catching the morning sun suddenly comes to life-
Greeting me as if to say-
Come dip your hand in the coolness
of my water-
And invigorate your day.

Miss not the wonders of the morning sun-
For when the cares and the worries
of the day is done-
Look back and recall the beauty
of your early day-
And perhaps the burden of your day
will fade away.

By Claude Peter Dhuet
Sept. 13, 2003

GOLDEN YEARS

LINGERING MEMORIES OF YESTERYEAR-
OFT HAUNT MY TWILIGHT HOURS-
THE DAYS GO BY WITH HARDLY A WHISPER-
THAT LIFE IS PASSING ME BY.

TIME COMPRESSES ITSELF AS
IF TO BLOT OLD MEMORIES -
THAT MIGHT HURT A
WANING HEART.

BUT MEMORIES LINGER ON-
TIME CANNOT ERASE MEMORIES-ETCHED IN LETTERS OF
PURE GOLD.

GOLDEN YEARS ARE NOT THE YEARS-THAT COME IN THE
TWILIGHT OF LIFE-

BUT ALL THE YEARS THAT COME BEFORE-
WHEN LIFE CREATES MEMORIES
THAT LASTS-
UNTIL THE TIME WE ARE NO MORE.

By Claude Peter Dhuet
December 2000

DREAMS

What are dreams made of,
The aspirations for which we strive,
For all the things we cherish,
To make our life worth while?

Like bubbles floating in the air,
With iridescent beauty,
We accept them or reject them,
We wonder if we can use them.

So many forces can affect them,
How long will they survive,
Time and pressures are
against them,
As they slowly pass us by.

One by one they disappear,
They are forever lost,
Light ghosts in gossamer veils,
They fade before our eyes.

Our dreams and aspirations are
like bubbles,
How delicate they are,
The important things of today,
May be naught in the tomorrow.

We never know what the
future holds,
Like bubbles our dreams can fade away,
Lest all our dreams n'er
come to past,
Let us enjoy what we have today.

by Claude Peter Dhuet
March 21, 1999

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