HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Christmas Sucks...
From: jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Date: 29 Dec 92 12:16:26 EST

In article <2948@tau-ceti.isc-br.com>, cecilw@access.isc-br.com (Cecil Williams) writes:
> 		Death
> 		an attractive option
> 		to christmas spent alone
> 		without kids
> 		without wife
> 		without shared joy, or song.
> 		the unbearable pain of loneliness
> 		a most severe punishment 
> 		for being shy and abandoned
> 		by an adulterous woman...
		... only a thread of hope
> 		that it's all a bad dream,
> 		and I'll wake up happy 

Perhaps the first dream (the one before the bad dream) was
just that, a dream.

		Fear Not

	This is Christmas
	the season of jolly
	cold, maybe snowy
	hopefully  home.
	
	Home.  What is home?
	Tis a place for him
		and for her
	with two little munchkins.

	It has a roof for reindeer.
	A chimny for Santa
		and of course
	its occupants believe.

	They believe in goodness
	and in the joy of giving.
	They believe in peace on earth
	and goodwill toward all men.


ja 12/28/92
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: c9119870@wombat.newcastle.edu.au (ANTIGONE)
Subject: Re: IRISH NURSERY RYHME
Organization: University of Newcastle, AUSTRALIA
Date: Mon, 21 Dec 1992 04:40:46 GMT

In article <1gbatbINN86n@charnel.ecst.csuchico.edu>, bmcginnis@OAVAX.CSUCHICO.EDU (BILL MCGINNIS) writes:
> A little something to read to your children at night to help them 
> go to sleep. 
> 
> 	Up a long ladder and down a short rope,
> 	To hell with King Billy and God bless the pope.
> 
> 	If that doesn't do - we'll tear him in two,
> 	and then send him to hell with his red, white and blue.
> 
> 						Good night - Bill

**Dearest: I don't think Clinton would look as good as Bush hanging
from the end of a rope. (Then again, Paisley, Thatcher or Major would
look great as well!!:)

Saor Eire!!                                   
                                                                               
                       y







Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Subject: the year my favorite church song... / Marek
Organization: Northwestern University, Evanston Illinois.
Date: Thu, 31 Dec 1992 23:04:55 GMT


		the year my favorite church song
		went german chocolate layered tort, yum!
		(a christine pristine)
		-------------------------------------------------------------

		oh come, all ye faithful
		and all ye unfaithful

		joyful and triumphant
		smiling or discordant

		oh come ye, oh come ye
		oh indeed do come

		to bethlehem.
		the woods of penn.

		come and behold him
		come when you hold me

		born the king of ages
		bearing salty consequences

		oh come let us adore him
		oh come let him adore you

		oh come let us adore him
		oh come let her adore you

		oh come let us adore him,
		oh come let us adore you

		a christine pristine.
		christ the lord.
		
		
			Marek Lugowski
			31 December 1992
			Chicago, Illinois		
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: rcrowley@donne.zso.dec.com (Rebecca Crowley)
Subject: first post -- C&C welcome
Organization: Digital Equipment Corporation
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL8]
Date: Wed, 23 Dec 1992 20:04:10 GMT

Villanelle variant, sort of.  Haven't written much in a while, but
got a phrase stuck in my head, and this is what I usually do with
those.  Newsreader address doesn't work:  rcrowley@zso.dec.com does.



Oh come along, come play Seeker with me!
Let none make us live as we're born to be;
we will let nothing hide what we would see.

This is no game; no end is found this way:
the pleasure and the profit is in play.
Oh come along, come play Seeker with me!

Come, let's mock, ask and listen -- have it out
with believers; we'll insist upon doubt,
we will let nothing hide what we would see.

You say in myth the journey ends at home;
I find the lesson happens while we roam.
Oh come along, come play Seeker with me!

Truth, beauty, answers, knowledge are not owed.
We must demand them, nag, yes, we must goad:
we will let nothing hide what we would see.

Now, and then, and all along the way, we
will different things believe -- we won't agree.
Oh come along, come play Seeker with me!
We will let nothing hide what we would see.

Rebecca Crowley		rcrowley@zso.dec.com	Standard disclaimers apply
	"Curiosity never killed anything except a few hours."
From: jww@evolving.com (John W. Woolley)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: skanky
Date: 22 Dec 92 15:26:54 GMT
Organization: Evolving Systems, Inc.
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL4

I gots a question.  What skanky mean?  It ain't in Johnson -- Sam
Johnson, he my main lexicographer.

-- Fr. John
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: "Marek Lugowski" <marek@moose.cs.indiana.edu>
Subject: marketta / Marek (1989)
Organization: Indiana University, Bloomington
Date: Sat, 2 Jan 1993 18:51:03 -0500

This note contains the poem "marketta" and an afterword.


		marketta
		-------------------------------------------------------------

	i met marketta at the bigfoot	
		off the freeway in columbus.
		she works the graveyard shift.
		she wears striped white and white-rimmed shades.
		it's too bright in her fluorescent night
		or in her sunny day
		for her arthritic eye.
		she gets headaches.
	
		"how are you doing tonight?"
		"tired... do you have anything other than coffee?"
		"chocolate!  we have chocolate.  let me fix you some."
	
		marketta showed me her slash and burn economy
		a slash and a burn
		from a hot fryer, at 3.35 an hour
		a keepsake for keeps from her previous job.
	
		"i feel like at home, all this lavished attention."
		she smiles.
	
		we talked about the other burns
		burning testimonials, bruises mostly
		paying witness to her stay for free
		at the shelter for battered women
		30 days of asylum
		in the sanctity of unhappy endings and retreaded beginnings.
	
		"do you get a lot of customers?"
		"not right now, i hope.  it's time for me to hose down
								the lot."
		"i noticed!  it smells fresh, what is it?"
		"it's just water..."
	
		marketta is 22
		no health insurance
		mother of a 10-month-old.
	
		"then, he kicked me in the chest!"
		"oh, no..."
		"that was it.  i don't give 'em a second chance."
	
		marketta's first child died
		at 5 months.  crib death.
		then as now, no father around
		to grieve with or pay bills with.
	
		"how do you manage without insurance?"
		"five or ten dollars a week,
		 what can they do if you're trying?"
		"hospitals can be vicious."
		"i know, i know."
	
		feeling sorry for marketta?
		i'm sorry if i leave you with this feeling.
		marketta is energetic and nice
		lean of body, small of breast, kentucky-pretty blonde.
		she greets each customer twice
		once on arrival, once on leaving.
		immediate and unsorry she is.
	
		"be sure to tell your sister happy birthday from me,"
		she says as i puncture the glass to resume my night.
	
		what would marketta's life be like if she lived your life?
		hers is not at peace and lacks stability.
		she knows it.  she's working on it.
		like you and i know it.  like you and i are working on it.
	
	
			Marek Wojciech Lugowski
			30 September 1989
			Cincinnati, Ohio

"How can you remember all the lines like that?," she said.  "Did I get it
all right?"  "Yes, you sure did."  "And is everything true here?"  "Yup."

				-- Marek
From: dsoconne@quads.uchicago.edu (Daniel S OConnell)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Diamante    /Z.
Date: 29 Dec 92 02:11:08 GMT
Reply-To: dsoconne@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: Dead Poets Society

First of all, I liked the poem; herewith, some unasked for
criticism:

In article <1hn5o2INN3qn@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu
(Zita Marie Evensen) writes:

>                      DIAMANTE
>
>On her seventy-fifth birthday celebration,
>She watches, from the balcony, grandchildren
>Playing tag in the moonlight.
>
>Melodies from guitars oscillate
>The waves of time ...
>As young swains serenade her
>With plaintive songs of love.
>
>She draws her gold mantilla
>Across her face.
>She coyly smiles ...
>She is eighteen again !

I like the theme of age & youth. The poem starts in the present, the
middle stanza muddies the time boundry, and we end up in the present
with a sharp and poignant recollection of the past.

I wonder whether there should be an antithesis for the music however:
perhaps you would consider the music of her youth with the often greater
silences of age.

Some quibbles. Do you really mean `plaintive' (i.e.: mournful?). That
doesn't seem to fit. I don't know about "oscillate/wave", either. You
might want to consider a pair more attuned with age/youth, music/silence,
(grand)parent/child. Also I wonder whether you might use the word "She"
too often.

You might want to consider getting rid of it in one or two places and
using the "-ing" form of the verb. . .i.e., "Drawing the gold mantilla
across her face..."

Dano
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--How to write poetry he said
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Mon, 21 Dec 92 14:23:52 GMT


                        How to write poetry he said


To those who wrote
the editor sent almost
a form letter custom-made for each
but essentially the same urging:
find the pictures in life which must flow into words long and short ones
when you find the right pictures they will melt onto surfaces
all around you
you will see the walls turn into words smoking with life
the floor will be covered with their scurry they will crawl
out of your being into the minds of others
you must become a breeder of pictures
you must become a smelter of images
drip them into words
find the pictures...






-- 
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jchien@leland.Stanford.EDU (Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien)
Subject: Re: Poem--Mags
Organization: The Land of Flowers (Stanford U.)
Distribution: usa
Date: Thu, 31 Dec 92 20:15:38 GMT

ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini) writes:
>                                Mags
>
>I knew I could win
>the lottery sponsored by the giant magazine distributor
>it was instant realization--
>surely, if I bought all their magazines
>I would be a certain winner
>and the cost would be a merest pittance
>taken from my ten million dollar prize
>I bought all the magazines (seven hundred together)
[....]

	What?  You mean you made it to the finalist stage too?! ;)

Jennifer
From: shibe@leland.Stanford.EDU (Eric Schaible)
Subject: Thick Crust
Organization: DSG, Stanford University, CA 94305, USA
Date: Fri, 1 Jan 93 22:04:17 GMT

	In honor of Columbus Pizzeria and its patrons, and with
thanks to Ruben Garcia:

	THICK CRUST
    ---------------------

The next-table tigress 
Unpierces, 
Powders, 
And 
Pouts on Max Factor Burnt Mango.
        
Pineapple juice 
Greasy off my 
             slice.


#############################################################
Eric Schaible                                                
shibe@leland.stanford.edu                     c&c welcome    
Extremity without flashiness.                                

From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Sat, 2 Jan 1993 05:15:19 GMT
Subject: Re: ANNOUNCEMENT (was: Re: Critical Comments and a Bonfire Carol (was: Re: STORM))
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) writes:

> In rec.arts.poems, gorokho1@husc10.harvard.edu (Zhenya Gorokhovsky) writes:
> 
> > I feel somewhat awkward about having received email expressions of 
> > approval and sympathy - I really had no intention of fooling anyone
> > personally, but the show had to go on. My apologies to anyone who
> > feels offended; but I had intended to make this revelation at some
> > point anyway.
> 
> Offended?  Not at all.  Very amusing.  Nice trick.

Of course I am entirely aware that it is possible this is all
part of some deeper trickery, and that we may discover hints
of the involvement of the Tristero or other such shadowy 
groups.  

I await future revelations.
 

doug
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: kt1@herahera.cc.bellcore.com (tellefsen,karen a)
Subject: Morphine Television
Organization: Bellcore, Livingston, NJ
Date: Thu, 31 Dec 92 14:35:51 GMT


	Morphine Television

	Morphine television
	rasters on the retina.
	Hymns to commerce patter
	"Come on, buy me, try me,"
	brightly on dulled ear drums.
	Oh, they lie so coyly.
	There's not much resistance,
	neurons hushed by sitcoms;
	plastic cash wooed by brash 
        interim insistence.

	12/28/92

		(useful suggestions made by Marek)

-----------------------------------------
 The news poster gives a bad address;
 send e-mail to kt1@cc.bellcore.com  
 or it will be lost in the ascii aether.
 Karen Tellefsen
From: elc@cup.portal.com (Edward L Cole)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: tools
Date: Wed, 30 Dec 92 23:51:13 PST
Organization: The Portal System (TM)
Distribution: world

Another really good book to have on hand is Lewis Turco's
"The New Book of Forms". It's available in hardback and
paper from,I believe, New England University Presses (?).

Can't believe I let my copy out to be lost. I'm waiting
six weeks for a new copy.
From: jdblake@csd4.csd.uwm.edu (John David Blake)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: A New Poem!
Date: 26 Dec 1992 08:27:31 GMT
Organization: Computing Services Division, University of Wisconsin - Milwaukee
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: 129.89.7.4
Originator: jdblake@csd4.csd.uwm.edu

Just composed:

A wave of nostalgia
overwhelms me.
Surrounded by letters and photos,
this excess of information
makes me think I can
blink my eyes and return to the time
before my correspondence began and
before the photos were taken.

----
Please, I could really use C&C, and I'd appreciate it if you responded
via e-mail. I'm 34 pages behind in rap, and I hate updating, because then
I lose all of the poems there. Also, I'd gladly take suggestions for
a title. Thanks!

jdblake@csd4.csd.uwm.edu
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Immortalised.....(c&c welcome)
Date: 23 Dec 92 14:56:32 GMT
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations

Immortalised at the National Portrait Gallery

Scrawny man, dressed in his best brown wool,
	inkstains on his fingertips,
Looms over a child-king in wine velvet, gold brocade.

Kings who built empires -
	poets who toppled them.
Side by side.

Oil and water; a few typed words behind plastic
	define a life for generations.

And Ozymandias is not even here.


*****

M.A. Mohanraj
England
December 13, 1992

-- 
 
Here, write it, or it will be erased by the wind.

					 - Isabel Allende
From: beh@kropotkin.gnu.ai.mit.edu (various Howellses)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: there are two people
Date: 29 Dec 92 20:54:17
Organization: Internet access via the Free Software Foundation
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: kropotkin.gnu.ai.mit.edu


there are two people, not too far away,
just a plane ride, maybe two,
and they sit in a darkened house,
waiting.  For who?

there are two people, not so very old,
but growing older every day,
each day passing into the next,
nothing changes, everything changes,
and the next time I see them
(will I see them?)
they will be old.

there are two people,
and even though it's not so far away,
it is forever, now.

and where were they,
when I sold my soul...

--nalh
29 December, 1992
Somerville, Massachusetts
--
If it's me, it's not the other one.  If it's the other one, it's not me.
But then again, we're basically one and the same... oh bother, we're
--Various Howellses (Bruce and/or Nancy)
beh@gnu.ai.mit.edu
From: NAT@drao.nrc.ca (Natalie Prowse)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: re: one too many / Natalie
Date: 22 Dec 92 00:48:32 GMT
Organization: Dominion Radio Astrophysical Observatory
X-News-Reader: VMS NEWS 1.11


ooops.  didn't think it worked that time. now there's one too many poems
posted...

sorry.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(nat@drao.nrc.ca) |"It's good to have a healthy sense of sin.  It adds  
		  |  *spice* to one's transgressions..."  - J.H.
From: donz@uiunix.ui.org (Don Zirilli)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Christmas gift - Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien
Date: 23 Dec 92 14:45:02 GMT
Organization: UNIX International, Parsippany, NJ  07054


Just a couple of quick notes:  It looks like I didn't get news last night 
right up until this morning, so if there's anything you'd like me to see,
you better email it to donz@ui.org.  I saw "X" last night and highly 
recommend it as a thrilling movie for those who know and for those who
don't know (like me) a thrilling and eye-opening movie.  I also recommend
"Bram Stoker's Dracula" because here is finally a movie that applies some
Joseph Campbell to Vlad Dracula (I'm not sure if I like the end, though).


		The Cerulean Ocean Revisited
		-------------------------------------------

		I spoke to the cerulean ocean.
		He pulled a coral comb 
		through his hair,
		this was the passage of a year.
		365 spikes in his comb.

		"You must kiss me."
		He took off his spectacles
		and applied blue eyeshadow.
		"The moon is jealous.  
		Kiss me quickly."

		So I kissed him.
		I didn't die, but I will.
		His fine straight hair
		was worth a year.
		I thanked him for his grooming.

		He embraced me.  "This is free
		because your life is nothing."
		The eager sun put hands upon his breasts.
		His heart is a blue tea bag.
		I never stop brewing.


		Posthumous O'Toole
		12-22-92
		for Fang O'Toole


-- 
Chucklehead awaits the return of his .sig

Aaron Radomski, where are you???
From: ingsa@dc.luth.se (Ingvar Strand)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: a little something..
Date: 28 Dec 92 02:41:41 GMT
Organization: University of Lulea, Sweden


My first post to this great newsgrop.
A little something with no title since I couldn't make one up.

                        ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 

       Losing the foothold of life a little, floating up
       to new heights and soaring high above all the
       daily problems.  Letting ones mind roam around
       freely within the space of thoughts and exploring
       new vast areas of thinking.    Gaining new amazing
       powers of observation but still looking at the
       world as trough a whole array of smoothing
       glasses,  filtering, leaving only the positive in
       things.  Letting oneself slowly  and gracefully
       fall and bounce up again on the endlessly soft and
       pink clouds of emotions filling the skies of the
       land within.   Then perhaps just a misplaced word
       or action, sharp as the finest sword, cutting
       through your world like lightning form a thousand
       storms.  Creating destruction and darkness, as
       swift as flipping a switch, devastating as sudden
       total blindness.  You're falling and falling, like
       shot down from a clear blue sky, crashing  down
       the seemingly never ending pit of darkness, and
       yet hitting ground with brute force as thrown from
       the heights of eternity, feeling every split
       moment while you are being scattered all over
       space as though each takes a full eternity to
       complete.   Plunging forward in nothingness seeing
       the tiny light behind you getting smaller and
       smaller.  Then through time you'll turn numb and
       eventually apathetic, the gray dullness of the
       ordinary day and life will take over and the days,
       weeks and years will slowly be ticking by.  As
       time passes your wings will start to heal and the
       good and bad memories mix to form a new layer on
       the pile of experiences, to be hidden and
       forgotten or used and learned from.  Then perhaps
       one day you meet again someone who can light the
       fire inside, and hopefully you will dare your
       wings once more, maybe slowly at first, kind of
       probing to see if they can carry your weight,
       before you throw yourself over the edge, onto the
       unpredictable winds of emotions, once again
       soaring high above the gray surface of ordinary
       life. Perhaps one day you will be my wife.


Well..?

Ingvar

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ingvar Strand                 ingsa@ext.luth.se        | Have a most wondeful
Melderstein 4252              ingsa@hagbard.dc.luth.se | Christmas and a happy
S-955 92  Ranea               ingsa@loke.dc.luth.se    | New Year!!  Do some-
Sweden                                                 | thing nice to someone,
Phone:  +46-(0)924-51010                               | give them a hug.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-- 

/Ingvar
From: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: palabras ... [poem]
Date: 24 Dec 1992 20:32:58 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu




          PALABRAS


     palabras ordinarias
     desde mi diccionario
     barato ...

     amor ... paz ... amistad
     alegria ...sonrisas!

     poesas queridas ...
     canciones tristes ...
     pensamientos preciosos ...
     corazones amables ...

     regalos ricos !
     palabras que cueste
     menos de un centavo
     desde mi diccionario
     barato !


           ***


Feliz Navidad!


zita evensen
christmas eve
c1992


-- 
.. i am a romantic .... no apologies ......
From: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: foreign language    / Z.
Date: 29 Dec 1992 03:43:14 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu



             foreign language


i can handle this ...
grammar ... parsing ... vocabulary ...
no! maybe not parsing ...
grammar? oy vey!
i memorized the bilingual dictionary
from aardvark to zymurgy
(it seemed like i did, anyway)
while walking home from school everyday
with my nose buried in that book...
unmindful of pebbles in my  shoes.

i am going to learn this language!
twist my tongue and learn
the th's, f's, silent p's and w's ...
and like higgin's eliza d.
i will practice till my jaw muscles ache
and sounds blur its meanings.

i am going to learn this language
as i read and reread anthologies,
monographs, tabloids, and comic books.
i listened to bogart, cagney, and grant ...
and mimicked hepburn ( that's audrey),
rapped like goldberg ( that's whoopi),
and swaggered around like that
gamin-aviatrix from "alaska".
i am going to write and speak  
and live this language!

jeez, no one ever told me about nuances ...
inflections ... accents ... double entendres ...
about messages between-among-inside
other messages ...
how could i know
that cool and hot and sweet
have the same rad meaning ...
that homeboy is not
the opposite of housemaid
and that a totally bodacious camaro
is more bitchin than a mercedes benz?


God, American is such a hard foreign language!

                   ***

zita maria evensen
c1992, aug 12th


-- 
.. i am a romantic .... no apologies ......
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: c9119870@wombat.newcastle.edu.au (ANTIGONE)
Subject: jacqui: the one waited for...
Organization: University of Newcastle, AUSTRALIA
Date: Mon, 4 Jan 1993 05:40:59 GMT

             LOOK
             ****

Just another blonde, grey-eyed,
	Attacking the senses and
Causing (seditious) heart flutters
	Quicker than lightning
Under a sky-touching tree -
	Itself loving to be loved.

*********************************
Matthew Glenn Ward
University of Newcastle
Republic of Australia
---------------------------------
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: Nylon Strands (c&c welcome)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Tue, 22 Dec 1992 23:35:31 GMT

Nylon Strands

Flesh doll dances on world stage.
Arms forced welcoming wide,
legs splayed.

Moves at the beckoning twitch
of invisible fingers.

Doll dreams of dancing fingers bloody,
tearing loose,
stiletto stacatto on his heart.

Doll dreams.


*****

M.A. Mohanraj
England
12/13/92

-- 
 
Here, write it, or it will be erased by the wind.

					 - Isabel Allende