From: donz@uiunix.ui.org (Don Zirilli)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Comments and Poetry
Date: 17 Dec 92 14:32:26 GMT
Organization: UNIX International, Parsippany, NJ  07054

Table of Contents:

a response to Marie's remarks.

a poem by c.j.

a poem by Calliope O'Toole



a response to Marie's remarks:


In article <1992Dec16.153735@IASTATE.EDU> mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin) writes:
>
>Also, soul and heart and love are not dead words...they are still sharp 
>knives, to be used with care lest the user find himself bleeding all 
>over his cheese sandwich.
>

Since we're using such wild metaphors, I don't know if we really disagree or
not, nor do I care overmuch.  Let me just say that, yes those words are
sharp knives, which means that if they don't kill you, they're likely to 
form callouses so that you can't feel them any more.



a poem by c.j.:


   it's been a _long_ time since i've posted; i don't get on news much anymore
and i think my server is being mean to me.  anyway, tell me what you think
(email preferred):

Do not call me in the middle of the night
Your drunken giggles don't make me smile
And I don't want to hear you call me honey
When your honey is sugar-free.
Do not call me at the end of the week
Like some seven-day phoenix,
Shutting me out like a sinner at St. Peter's
Until Friday comes, and your heart is the City of Dis.
Do not call me to change your mind,
To build me up with the bricks of hope, and the mortar of expectation,
On a foundation of capricious whim,
To raise me up and raze me down.
Do not call me puppet for your play
And do not call me your girlfriend.


  i know the second-to-last line needs overhauling; any suggestions?

c.j.
nihil@oread.cc.ukans.edu


a poem by Calliope O'Toole:

[before I let her speak, please let me assure you once more that Calliope is 
not a persona of mine, but a living, breathing soul who somewhere out there
exists--or, if she doesn't exist, then she is someone ELSE's persona, not 
mine!]


Caro Don (should be something else in here like Alessandro or Felipe)
Zirilli,

As my life and computers have been in something of a shambles this last
week, I have not been doing much writing. I went to the study to write
something extremely profound one night about midnight, and discovered my
machine would not let me do mail, news or anything associated. Disgusted, I
promptly forgot what I was thinking and spent an hour fumbling. You might,
if you feel the urge, let my esteemed rapsters know that Calliope is
horrified at the prospect of a split rap, and will never accept a moderator
even if it is my beloved Uncle Joe. In fact, should such an unthinkably
obscene scenario arise, Calliope will personally learn enough tricks from
the many disreputable hackers in her entourage to start a variety of pirate
newsgroups called something like
rec.arts.doggerel.Italian.canto.and.limericks or
rec.arts.poetry.scanning.and.lyrical.lust.in.odes.nonmetric! Please, my
dear, would you post Hey, here's a symbol (with the hideous we we'd excised
and covertly replacing purely as below), dedicated to Sheila, if your news
access is back and if you are not on holiday. In return I will write you a
very special Christmas carol!

Love in a Christmas cracker from [name deleted to protect the innocent] 


Hey, here's a symbol
 
 
If we had the time, the time we should, 
sitting for hours in student cafes
sipping Turkish coffee sweet I'd say
you're just a symbol, I'm afraid
Sex? you'd venture - not quite yet
but freedom won and fear of death
I would explain, the barter system
Then we'd kiss like falling angels,
hoping not to miss the last bus
leaning in darkened corners 
hand in hand with dark frustration
our complicated learned yearning  
turning again to fear as there 
upon it, the desired connection,
symbols all we'd covertly regard 
ourselves and others to the terminus


-- 
Chucklehead awaits the return of his .sig
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems