HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: haiku 2
From: conrad@kryton.UUCP (Konstatin Kalikanzaros)
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 92 12:33:33 PST
Organization: Paradox Alley F&SF BBS 805-492-8789


another attempt

	water
     gurgling happily 
     over hard granite
     greyflecked black & white
	rock

better but....
conrad

These things are harder to write than they look.


____________________________________________________________________________
Reality is for people that can't handle Science fiction.

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--Self-sacrifice
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Sun, 15 Nov 92 15:42:06 GMT

                                Self-sacrifice

                There is a sweet and sour fruit
                in India
                which eats you up
                after you have eaten
                it
                was placed on earth
                to guarantee the perpetuation of self-sacrifice
                it cannot be resisted
                by certain people
                when they die and dissolve
                on the jungle floor
                the seeds they have carried there
                enter the soil
                and this is how plants walk...
-- 
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ktw@polaris.att.com (79243-wolman)
Subject: The Poet Li Ho Writes to His Mistress...
Originator: news@cbnewsb.cb.att.com
Organization: AT&T
Date: Mon, 23 Nov 1992 00:30:43 GMT


THE POET LI HO WRITES TO HIS MISTRESS BEFORE
SHE DEPARTS THE CAPITAL FOR HER FAMILY'S HOME
AND HER MARRIAGE

You are for return,
and take this letter with you.
Its words, hid behind characters
winged like small birds locked
in a ricepaper cage,
you alone have the keys to open,
let the words go free.

Yours the choice: to snare
the escaping words from the air,
cradle them in your slender fingers,
bars that long have held my heart,
kiss and stroke
their paper-feathered lightness:
or cast them off and out,
let them drift on the breeze,
subjects not of your heart or mine,
but of their whims and currents.
Or let them sink in the river
that floats you home,
borne from me, from these words,
and from the words that in days to come
will follow forth to seek you
in the sunset colors of the river you ride,
then seek these words that were lost,
that rest in the mud in a tea-green darkness.

Beyond this room,
where the brushstrokes glide,
releasing this dreamt-of flow of words,
my wife sings in the orchard
and my sons dance in each other's arms,
knowing themselves enclosed and safe,
the song their reality,
the dance joining them to earth.
Here, in this room,
is a special truth, of lamplight
and inkblock, rice paper and brushes,
the things that remain
when your body departs,
waving your soul before it
in protection and memory,
forcing me backward toward my duty,
forcing you forward toward a man
whose heart is wholly yours.
Here, beyond this room,
is the truth of distance,
the truth of worlds:
of you and a great winding river,
carrying you to battle your own current,
fighting upstream toward a dark sea.

Kenneth Wolman, November 22, 1992
From: oauld@ponder.csci.unt.edu (orion okotu auld)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Actaeon [Sonnet]
Date: 18 Nov 92 16:10:43 GMT
Article-I.D.: ponder.oauld.722103043
Organization: University of North Texas

>                        Actaeon
>                       ---------

>        Moderns will scoff.  "What, reverence virginity?
>        How very quaint!  Ignorant ancients talked
>        of vengeful powers, attributed divinity
>        to what they feared or couldn't grasp.  We're shocked
>        you'd buy such crap."  Take warning! -- femininity,
>        sweet, wild, and strong, like God will not be mocked.


What a fearsome vision!  Would that I never come to see the world this way.

                              --Orion
From: gt7244c@prism.gatech.EDU (John G'alt)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Phil's apprentice
Keywords: scholar newsgroups
Date: 23 Nov 92 16:51:14 GMT
Organization: Georgia Tech

>For anyone who cares: far from being my disciple, Michael Zeleny
>is certainly my teacher and friend, and one of the most outstanding
>scholars of our day. The reason that you folks don't know this is
>that you don't read the real intellectual's newsgroups:
>rec.arts.books, sci.philosophy.meta and .tech, sci.logic,
>sci.math and talk.philosophy.misc.
>Philip Nikolayev

   Oh yes, at least one of us has tried these "intellectual" groups.
When I visited sci.philo.meta (sounds like a frat, no?) those pompous a's
were still stuck on figuring out wether a door exists according to Kant 
as opposed to the impressionist's "there's nothing there but a bunch of
stimuli-sending stuff."  Get real.  Maybe I should check in again if
Philip has anything fun to say there, but I was bored as hell the last 
time.
   Talk.philo.misc was a little more promising, though.
   Opinions vary.

John G'alt
-- 
John Greenawalt, gt7244c@prism.gatech.edu whooptydoo yes I'm a number
I am the difference between  |  "All the poetry in the trunk you kept your
      A poet at heart        |   life in/ I knew that it would come to 
  And a poet at genitals.    |   light one day."             -CB
From: wachtel@canon.co.uk (Tom Wachtel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: More Pain
Date: 20 Nov 92 11:01:44 GMT
Reply-To: wachtel@canon.co.uk
Organization: Canon Research Centre Europe Ltd

block@iccgcc.decnet.ab.com (Rolling Thunder) writes:

> Alone and feeling displaced
> Where should I go?
> Trapped in a fog of confusion
> Where am I headed?
> The dark side surfaces and takes control
> Who will stop it?
> Arm extended, reaching toward a distant glow
> Is anybody out there?
> Darkness has me, I can not escape
> Where is the light?
> Stret 
> ched out on the floor, face down, motionless
> Who will help me?
> Who will heal my wounds?

yeah, i once tried to drive through chicago also.

> Was it worth the pain? 
> Would you go back again?
> Treated like dirt
> Was it worth the hurt?
> About to expire
> Would you jump back in the fire?

nah, i like the indiana toll road.


-- 

Tom Wachtel (wachtel@canon.co.uk)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sheilah@wam.umd.edu (Danny-Boy)
Subject: nothing
Organization: University of Maryland, College Park
Date: Sun, 15 Nov 1992 22:34:55 GMT


(not meaning to be trite, but wondering nice definitions of
aesthic. and wondering how people approach argueing about
aesthitics, because each can claim a private aesthetic and
by that argument, whatever the person wants becomes
aesthitical. 
Which is not very useful if the two people want
to have a related _________. It also makes the
word "aesthetic" useless. 
If it can mean everything, why not not "everything" instead of "aesthetic"? 
absolutely ridiculous.  I know because I do it all the time.)

(perhaps I should look up how people have arguments and talk to each
other. I started reading "refutations...blahblah" by Aristotle (returned
it back to the library - I am VERY DANGEROUS with library books. no
kidding. I just got my fines mailed to me for over the summer. (pale pale
face meeting the mail) (I must have returned all of my library books
that day and decided that I could make a profit buying all the
books I wanted to read) and it looked like he might start talking
about patterns of people talking to each other. but then again,
maybe he was being too s peciallized. it did have refutations in
the title after all. anyway, I'll be looking up some book in the
library and just watching people to see how talking works.)

Good god! Doug and Philip! kiss! for goodness sake.



self similar
self similar
these leaves are all so damn self similar.

I have these dreams see
of computer screens,
dendrites self similar and closer in
you see
more dendrons.
more dendrons.

each second - i can't tell the difference from.
So now this room is always the same 
and I can't move no.
It's your fault I'm stuck here
and now that I realize it.

I can't even see! damnit.
the photons - they don't exist.

everything blank.

You can't tell the difference between me and the little
santa claus passing out tickets for time over
there. 

	the leaves edges.
	that's the important part
	to remember to keep in your head
	when you sleep.
	
	the falling apart and the leave-dust.

	and fixate on the edges of leaves.

remember that seconds become your little electrons.
slam em all together yeah!




	each body has an arm or leg
	each one - cell walls and ribonuclei
	because we all have hypothalumi
	we all just think the same oh my.


(dumb poem. but I am not willing to work on it more. and I would
like to take some time and conversation before I start on
it again. I probably have a few more things I want to throw in
and then when I am finished, turn it into prose instead. 

I must be the most unethical person in the whole world.

maybe I'll goad someone else into shaming me into silence by
responding with a brilliant poem.)
-- 
I am always wrong. Don't believe me ever.
stark raving sane  sheilah@wam.umd.edu
From: dany@irvine.com (rorschach)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: poem-untitled/unfinished, C&C welcome.
Date: 20 Nov 92 21:26:38 GMT
Organization: Irvine Compiler Corp., Irvine, California, USA

untitled

our life like mist
like flame, like ice
lips like black roses
will my heart suffice?

blood drip wasteland night
oh my tears
oh my life

in the cold my soul
my saving grace
in the night my love
for your embrace

the sheets unwind
their tendrils touch
how can i tell
are they deep enough

our life like mist
like flame, like ice
her lips black roses
will my heart suffice?

-----
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sheilah@wam.umd.edu (Danny-Boy)
Subject: Re: Anglocentricism in r...
Organization: University of Maryland, College Park
Date: Mon, 23 Nov 1992 22:04:53 GMT

In article <5913@sumax.seattleu.edu> sstover@sumax.seattleu.edu (   Kate   ) writes:
>Steph, and all:


>ignorant.  Certainly I would trust them to be more 'correct' than I would
>trust some source in the library written by some dead or near-dead white
>male...

	The books I found in the library were not written by a caucasian,
apparantly. I'm not sure if he is dead.  What is wrong with being dead?

	Okay...maybe you can't have a dialogue.

>What I'm really asking, and would be delighted to hear answers from both
>sides regarding, is *why* rap was from the beginning an unacceptable...


	Probably because most of us who read r.a.p. do not read urdu.
-- 
I am always wrong. Don't believe me ever.
stark raving sane  sheilah@wam.umd.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Towards greater systemic (solar) understanding
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Fri, 20 Nov 92 15:09:17 GMT


Below please find a poem written by an early human explorer of the
planet Mars, written in a dialect developed by early human visitors
stranded on the planet. The poem is in a phonemic equivalent using the Dolkin
system of phonemics. I apologize to the (deceased) author for any
inadequacy which my translation may (undoubtedly) possess.

I have provided this poem and its translation as an offering
in the service of our common humanity. I actually wished to extend
myself further by offering a translation of a poem by a native Martian
poet, but have no confidence whatsoever in my ability to empathize with
the Martian sensibility, due to the differences between Martian and
human physiology which make the intersection of our experience
unfortunately quite limited.


                               ?

                aafts sjaikl shdjasgd.
                tehs akjd-akel asldjwq sj.
                asjsk2 wi.
                ?

                Below on the sands not red
                but orange by reflected light
                among the winds
                souls each one
                burning comfortably.





-- 
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
From: abenoit@sumax.seattleu.edu (CHAVALEH)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Mr. Nikolayev/Hail JJWebb
Keywords: Critic or lazy?
Date: 17 Nov 92 04:08:40 GMT
Organization: Seattle University

In article <4656@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us> jjwebb@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us writes:
>
>
>Mr. Nikolayev,
>
>So your participation here is motivated by an interest in good poetry.
>Your means of discerning good poetry, the application of reason.
>
>Reason. That sounds right.

EXACTLY.  LET'S SEE SOME FROM HIM.
 
>Why don't you choose one of your favorite poems (not one of your own,
>please) and show us all how you descry its greatness. I assume that one 
>of your favorites would fall into the 'great poetry' category? 

IT WOULD HAVE TO, ELSE HE WOULD HAVE BEEN OBLIGATED TO DESTROY IT.

THAT ASIDE, I KNOW SEVERAL PEOPLE WOULD MUCH APPRECIATE SUCH A LESSON
NIKO.  WE ARE ALL INTERESTED IN THE CRITERIA YOU HAVE SET, AND LOOK
FORWARD TO YOUR DEFENSE.  (OF COURSE, NO ONE IS HOLDING THEIR BREATH,
SINCE WE ALL KNOW YOU CARE NOTHING FOR OUR OPINIONS.)  

>Or are you just another proponent of the 'poetry slam' school of
>superficial criticism? Can you accomplish more than merely making a
>name for yourself as this week's rabid dog?

WE CONTINUE TO WAIT, NIKO.


>                 JJWebb-- 

I WOULD LIKE TO OFFER AN ACCOLADE TO JJWEBB.  GOD BLESS.


                        CHAVALEH
                abenoit@sumax.seattle.edu
            (Parenthetical Conversationalist)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan)
Subject: "on fucked girls"
Reply-To: alk4@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 23:59:01 GMT

Were "Artifacts" neatly squeezed between my pages,
it might not be so weak on its own.
I'm actually interested in what is said,
not just my poem...so I'll add this little
thread:


Romantic
--------


Surgery 
by candle light;
Open heart.

Etherized by Bach
the surgeon
makes the kindest cut.

A tailor standing by
with neele threaded,
ready.

The patient awakes
a glass of bubbly at hand;

he says "do you?"
she says "I do".

Someone nearby 
faints.



Alex L. Karan



This is a close as I come to writing about "fucked girls".

Sometimes, what is looked at isn't as important as the way
it is looked at.  Example< some readers have taken this
as a flatfooted didactic statement on religion:

`					 
Looking
-------


A crack in the foundation of the Church
on 57th across from the playground
where the wind drags newspapers
back and forth against a fence

the basement full of rain,
the Word sodden
and more on the way
unless they raise more than hope

today, sunlight streams through
stained glass onto stained walls
and a melancholy song resounds,
the gift of children;
one of the last

one could call it beautiful.




Alex L. Karan

 
Perhaps I expect my titles to do too much work.
Or my readers.

Alex

D
D 
D
D
C
I
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bhattach@quip.eecs.umich.edu (sayan bhattacharyya)
Subject: Re: Poetry Readings - are they worth it?
Organization: University of Michigan EECS Dept., Ann Arbor, MI
Date: Sat, 21 Nov 1992 21:35:59 GMT

In article <1992Nov19.140112.16703@eng.cam.ac.uk> tpl@eng.cam.ac.uk (Tim Love) writes:
>
>Am I missing out? Does anyone like poetry readings?

After all the original function of poetry was to be heard and
not read. Thus by attending a poetry reading you are engaging
yourself in a direct sensory experience which you cannot hope
to get out of reading a book.

I think this becomes  especially important in the case of a 
language that you do not speak or read. By attending a poetry
reading where the original is read by the poet followed by
a translation in your native language , you will be able much 
closer to the spirit of the original than you possibly could
by reading a bilingual edition, for you will get to know what
the words *sound* like in the original.

For example, I will never forget the joyous experience
of going to hear the Chilean poet Nicanor Parra read
at a poetry reading in Calcutta . I know no Spanish, 
and I could never have gotten close to his poetry if I
hadn't gone to that reading. (In this particular case 
the experience was all the more rewarding because each
poem was read *in triplicate* : in Spanish by Parra
himself and then in the English translation that some European
had made, and then in Bengali translation made by a local
poet.)

Of course, some poets consciously write their work as meant
to be *read* and not heard. You may not get a lot out of 
attending a poetry reading of such poets, though it will 
still be probably still be worth it. For example, Sudhindranath
Dutta clearly meant his poetry to be read aloud : the widespread 
use of sonorous Sanskrit words and the tight, compact rhythms 
almost shout at you, aloud, from the pages in Sudhindranath's
work. On the other hand Jibanananda Dash's poetry is much more
private, personal, and , it has always seemed to me, meant to 
be read to oneself in at most a low monotone. Although both
of these leading figures of mid-twentieth century Bengali poetry
died before my time, so that I haven't had a chance to hear  
them read, those who have tell me that the reading styles of
Sudhindranath Dutta and Jibananada Dash was totally in keeping
with their poetic personalities that come through from reading
their poems.

-Sayan Bhattacharyya.
-- 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sayan Bhattacharyya          |   Colourless green ideas sleep furiously.
Artificial Intelligence Lab  |
The University of Michigan   |
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Another version of "artifacts" / Natalie
From: conrad@kryton.UUCP (Konstatin Kalikanzaros)
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 92 15:15:46 PST
Organization: Paradox Alley F&SF BBS 805-492-8789

PROWSE@Meena.CC.URegina.CA (Natalie) writes:

>  alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan) writes:
> 
> >Artifacts
> >---------
> > 
> >
> >in a trash can 
> >near her bed
> >
> >a wasted rose 
> >and a condom full of love
> >
> 
> I won't jump into the fray, in the usual way, instead, I offer this 
> alternative set of images:
> (Thanks for the inspiration, Alex :-)
> 
> 		more artifacts...
> 		-------------------------------------------------------------
> 		
> 		on a table 
> 		near her bed
> 
> 		stands a bud vase
> 		which contains a rose
> 		thirstily drinking itself
> 		into full bloom.
> 
> 		in the trashcan
> 		near her bed
> 
> 		rest six spent, 
> 		contented condoms.
> 
> 		
> 			-Natalie (I like verbs :-) / November 21, 1992
> 
> -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
> (prowse@meena.cc.uregina.ca   |	"I wonder if you think about me,
> 		              |	 Once upon a time, in your wildest dreams."
> 			      |					-Moody Blues
   Another angle 

	More (human) artifacts
        ----------------------

	On a bed, 
	near a table
        
	which contains the fadded essence
	of a reddish single rose,
	(in a vase half full of water)

	lay two contented humans
        snoring softly, I suppose.

	in the trashcan near the table 
	(near the bed in which they lay)

        all that now remains to see of 
	their recent heated passion,
	
        a fancy pair of
	condoms in repose

conrad 

     


____________________________________________________________________________
Reality is for people that can't handle Science fiction.

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: PROWSE@Meena.CC.URegina.CA (Natalie)
Subject: Re: Friends of RAP
Date: Tue, 24 Nov 1992 01:32:08 GMT
X-News-Reader: VMS NEWS 1.24
Organization: University of Regina, Regina, Sask., Canada

In <steele.722545586@chip.aem.umn.edu> steele@aem.umn.edu writes:

> alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan) writes:
> 
> >We have seen this happen before.
> >Some voices hide only ears
> >and hunger for their place in our scene.
> 
> >There is nothing we can say.
> >It comes to this:
> >It must be your blitheringly stupid Polack mind that licences you to use
> >the noxious "boy" appellation, little fellow.  For all you know, I might
> >be black, my Russian name notwithstanding.  Kindly curb your repugnant
> >racist instincts, or this is going to get ugly quick.
> > 
> >which I beleive, in its hypocrisy and violence
> >is what the net represents at its worst.
> >I am going to research rules about networking,
> >but I honestly think this sort of thing should NOT go on here.
> 
> >Lets give them nothing.
> >If they don't care, it won't matter.
> >If they do, let them fry.
> 
> i second this motion, all in favor?
> 
> steph.

AYE!

> >Ignore the idiots. Lest we become them.
> 
> >Alex

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(prowse@meena.cc.uregina.ca   |	"I wonder if you think about me,
		              |	 Once upon a time, in your wildest dreams."
			      |					-Moody Blues
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bhattach@quip.eecs.umich.edu (sayan bhattacharyya)
Subject: Anglocentricism in rec.arts.poems Re: Urdu Knowledge. Re: Urdu Ignorance (part II)
Organization: University of Michigan EECS Dept., Ann Arbor, MI
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 17:59:25 GMT

In article <1992Nov11.205510.20934@wam.umd.edu> sheilah@wam.umd.edu (Sheila Herndon) writes:
>
>
>I do not desire to post any more old Urdu poetry. I disagree with
>it too much. I will look over the modern Urdu poetry and see how
>it is and post some of it (even if I disagree with it). Afterwards,
>I will see about posting more.
>-- 
>I am always wrong. Don't believe me ever.
>stark raving sane  sheilah@wam.umd.edu

Urdu has an interesting history because it was the lingu franca of the
Mughal empire and arose out of the sheer necessity of people speaking 
different languages to communicate with each other. For a while it
was the language of courtly love in North India (rather like Provenc,al
was once in Europe) with highly stylised forms and images. (I presume
Sheila Hardon found it distasteful because this stylised form seemed
artificial to him).

However, there was a veritable renaissance in the 20th century with
the arrival of a new generation of fresh voices . Interestingly enough
many of these younger poets were left-leaning radicals and some were
members of the newly formed Communist Party of India. In the works
of Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Firakh Gorakhpuri and Jigar Moradabadi, the 
stylised forms of the older poems underwent a new transformation.
Poems were written on subjects and themes that the older Urdu poets
of courtly love would never have dreamt of writing on. There was a 
new freshness , a sense of audacity , in the poems that were being
written at this time, some of them by poets who were in and out
of prison. In some respect the Urdu poetry of this period reminds
me of the poetry of Nazim Hikmet.  

Simultaneously there was another renaissance in Urdu prose, also
led by left-wing writers, the most notable of whom was Sadat Hasan Manto.

After the partition of India , Urdu continued to flourish on 
both sides of the Indo-Pakistani border. Urdu poetry is probably 
still one of the most dynamic poetries of the Indian subcontinent,
next only to Bengali poetry (here my personal bias obviously 
comes in :))

I commend Sheila Hardon because he apparently made the effort 
to look up the history of Urdu poetry. I would strongly recommend 
him (and others) to look up modern , i.e. 20th century Urdu poetry    
as well. You will not be disappointed. A good place to start is 
the Penguin anthology of modern Urdu poetry.

On a related note, I am disappointed to find that rec.arts.poems
is so Anglocentric and so Eurocentric. Poetry of non-Western
cultures, particularly those of the Third world, is rarely 
discussed here. (I may be wrong, because I have time to read this
group rarely, but this has been my impression so far).

Enjoy!  

-Sayan Bhattacharyya




Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems