HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: tburgess@us.oracle.com (Terri Servantes Burgess)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: In loving memory
Date: 28 Jul 92 19:32:25 GMT



In Loving Memeory
----------------



In the stillness of the night I feel your breath on the back of my neck
It is as if you still are here

Though I know it was just yesterday I said goodbye
As within the ground they lay your body to rest

The earth and sky they took you in
Forever sweet dreams my love

May the god in the heavens smile upon you
For you have lived your life to the fullest

I am sorry for the ever falling tears my love
For my heart won't let you go

Seems like it was just yesterday 
When the seeds of love began to grow

Sitting in your favorite chair
I feel your presence near

Knowing soon that your spirit must go and there I cannot go

Today shall be a holiday
For my love has found eternal rest.

Someday I will join with you
We two heart to heart no longer alone.

I wish that someday was today.


-tia
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Subject: an alternative to burnt toast / Marie+Marek
Reply-To: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Organization: Iowa State University
Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1992 02:02:31 GMT


		an alternative to burnt toast
		-------------------------------------------------------------

		1.

		take the butter out of the fridge.
		it's important to do this first.
		
		put some warm water and some yeast
		and oil and sugar and milk
		(oh, all right, an egg)
		into a big brown stoneware bowl.
		
		mix.
		
		put in a lot of flour.
		mix again.
		knead it until it turns into dough.
		don't be shy
		you are a mother bear
		licking her cubs into shape.
		give it a couple of vigorous slaps.
		don't be shy
		you are a doctor
		showing the baby how to breathe.
		
		tuck it back into its bowl
		and put it in a warm place to grow.
		
		put it in a pan and bake it.
		this will take an hour or so.
		time to clean the flour off the counter-top
		time to brew some tea
		time to inhale the subtle scent
		
		of bread.
		
		cut a thick slice while it's still warm
		and lay on the butter -- as soft,
		as soft as butter is -- on the firm foamy slice.
		watch it sink in.  you sink in too.
		this is the way to the door marked "in".
		
		maybe you should have made more.
		
		2.
		
		you know, i never made bread
		before
		but i do remember the childhood burning warmth
		of those huge round loaves
		of the old country
		low mountainfuls of mouthful gold.
		
		did we make toast in the old country?
		i don't think so.


			Marie Coffin / Marek Lugowski
			22 July 1992
			Ames, Iowa / Cincinnati, Ohio

From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Tue, 21 Jul 1992 14:45:34 GMT
Subject: Re: linguistic tranqualizer
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, root@bing.UUCP (Administrator) writes:

> linguistic tranqualizers
> 
> when i was little
> people said i was handicapped
> and i was.
> and then came "disabled"
> a new fad, i thought,
> but reasonably accurate still.
> then came "physically challenged"
> and now the newest fad is "differently enabled"
> and all the while
> my basic medical condition has not changed.
> it's just that people
> can say "differently enabled"
> without having to feel anything at all.
> 
> July 17, 1992
> Bing H Bang

Hey Bing,

Here is a poem I wrote about my dad a long time ago:
(It is a bit more harsh, but has a similar sentiment)



                   He's a Lumberjack (and he's ok)



Six.
Father felled by a tree.
Don't look at me.

Justice I suppose.
God knows
he killed his share.
What the hell do I care?

Now he's goin' mobile.
Physically challenged,
ya got me?

Wheels appeal.
Make 'em squeal dad.

Make 'em feel dad.

I fuckin' dare ya'.

Is it politically correct
to see your crippled father?
Maybe a six year old should look away.
Give him time to collect himself?

Ha!

Ha?

Don't even bother to talk to me
about the fable of the
differently abled.

Dressing bed sores showed 
the score.

Even to a boy,
it was completely apparent
that he was, indeed, handicapped.

Trapped ok?
In a body with a severed spine, oh
yeah, he's doin' fine.
After all he's got his mind.

     he hasn't lost his chance to shine

     look son, he hasn't lost his day in the sun

     no need to take this to heart

     no need for you to fall apart

You never know what he might find to do
with all those hours,

all those clever 'different' powers.

climbing
hiking
running
walking
sex

That is what he lost.
That was the cost.

That was the price he paid for his special status,
what he gained are apparatus
and the right to park
closer to the stores 
and the opportunity to
endure the stares of
people who protect their
hearts by labeling him
as 
physically
challenged.

Micheal Jordan is physically
challenged, and he does not even
urinate into a bag
 
   attached to his leg for god's sake.

Sometimes I dream that he could be like Mike.


doug

-for my dad-

  I wish I could kill the fucker that coined the phrase 'physically challenged'
  make the miscreant existence challenged I would.

  If I could.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: haight@sun.ipl.rpi.edu (Liz Haight)
Subject: ramblings of motherchildhood
Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY
Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1992 13:48:29 GMT

	motherchildhood
        ***************

youth whispers to us
through our children
my daughter
the storyteller
describes her friendships:

	'mommy, my sister and i fight sometimes.
	she says 'i don't like you anymore'
	and sometimes i tell her that too.
	is that okay, mommy?  because 
	then we can become friends again.'

and i think about my own friendships
remember how long before we talked
after our last disillusionment
turning to each other 
when there was no one
carefully avoiding the 
unforgiven

and then
the storyteller tales:

	'mommy, i was walking
	back and forth, back and forth,
	back and forth, on the ladder
	on the ground - you know, mommy,
	by the red box, in the garden?
	i saw a ladybug fall
	into an anthill.'

mommy wouldn't have thought
to make that
nearly as interesting.
i say,
'oh look at the butterfly!'
the storyteller asks:

	'would you like me to say hello
	to the butterfly?'

me, the adult says,
'you know butterflies don't talk
and wouldn't understand you.'
but, ah, the storyteller
knows something:

	'mommy, mommy, mommy,
	you know butterflies
	speak French!	
	to each other!'

sometimes the mommy is sad
and the storyteller
knows something about this, too:

	'mommy?  i wish we weren't real.'

'oh?  what would you be, storyteller?'






-- 
------------------
Elizabeth           /	Don't pass me by like a stranger ...
haight@ipl.rpi.edu  \	    Don't leave me here all alone, so alone, 
		    /		I'm alone ... Talk to me.  [Chris Isaac]
From: bob@netxcom.netx.com (Robert Thralls)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Posthumour... Interpretations are what we expect. (4 DON Z)
Date: 21 Jul 92 15:43:25 GMT
Organization: NetExpress Inc., Vienna, VA, USA

Re: Posthumour... Interpretations are what we expect. (4 DON Z)

I know I said the other one was final, but changing one's mind is a 
wonderful thing...

PS: I edited your tabs (mine ts=8)

>In article <1114@netxcom.netx.com>, bob@netxcom.netx.com (Robert Thralls) writes:
>>bonfire deleted
>					
>	Jesus Christ, got any butane left in that thang, buddy?  

Nope, all out. Ya know, sometimes we just gotta explode...
I hope he understands, I wasn't even thinking very clearly, but
I feel *MUCH* better now. So much going on, I just picked (subconsciencly)
The PostHumous one to ignite. Sorry, o' great one, but life's not being
*fare* this week, it quite taxing, ya know. I could drift into saga
at this point, but that would just provoke more response that I'm really
not in the mood for (right now).

I know Arnica has been troubled by this whole thing, it seems as though
'butthead Montana' thinks that it was a bit wishy-washy, although still 
believes that the right thing was done, not beleiving that [we] actually
said "NO, don't do it!" to the poor lad. Although, If that is what he
*read*..... 'nuf said.

My existence here is to only confirm what you believe.

bob.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alam@ucsu.Colorado.EDU (ALAM AFSHAN)
Subject: Doctors can be right too : )
Summary: doctor's orders
Keywords: cathartic operation
Organization: University of Colorado, Boulder
Date: Sat, 25 Jul 1992 18:50:10 GMT


You are just what the doctor ordered
when he said 'this will not hurt for a minute'
Love does not, you know, not until later.
Kisses do not burn until later.
I guess it is later, now.

Hey okay so I went overboard. This poetry thing
does go to one's head a bit.How do you all stay
sane? Or do you?:-)

Afshan Alam.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: UNTITLED...
From: bgrueber@desire.wright.edu
Date: 27 Jul 92 23:16:57 EST
Organization: Wright State University 

In article <0095E0C5.520C3A80@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu>, ieeug470@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu writes:
> 
> 	The faceless assassin 
> 	Am I.
> 
> My cross-hairs 
> Float
> Across the masses.
> Her head,
> Slight pressure,
> Shoulder nudge,
> Silent puff of smoke.
> I have power.
> 
> 	The nameless killer
> 	Am I.
> 
> My blade,
> Ice.
> Stalking silent
> From behind
> Jarring jab
> The quiet gasp.
> Seemingly slow {> Collapse.
> I walk on.
> 
> 	The fluid liquidator 
> 	Am I.
> 
> My swords swipe,
> Parry.
> Bloody blades
> Piroette
> One high, one low
> High slice stopped.
> Low thrust through,
> Hilt deep.
> I know victory.
> 
> 	The infactuated lover
> 	Am I.
> 
> My arms around her,
> Warmth.
> Her body
> Mine.
> Consuming hunger,
> Unsatiable appetite,
> Her empty eyes.
> She slits my throat.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Could ya all help me with a title for this??
> (maybe a bit 'o C&C)??
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Michael...
> 
> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> Only when you have to hold onto the grass to keep from falling off the earth
> are you drunk enough to enjoy life.
> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Michael:  I wish I could help you get published, but at this moment I am having
trouble with that myself.  However, I will help you with some C&C if you want. 
The poems as a whole follow a twisted theme.  This can be good and useful if
there is coherence between the theme and the intended metaphor.  This
connection seems to be a little weak.  The voice of the narrator or author also
seems to be shifting almost like the vision of the poem is not completely clear
to you as yet.  Maybe you need to re-evaluate the stimulus and purpose of this
work and get a clearer picture of what you want.  Then go back and look at your
own work critically and shift it to match what your purpose and vision really
are.  This may mean that nothing changes or everything could change.  I find I
have to do this with the poems that I write that try to follow a new or
original path of thinking or writing.  Let me know if I have helped.  If you
want more specifics in the form of C&C send me a note and I'll get back to you.

Enjoy life
Bob
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alam@ucsu.Colorado.EDU (ALAM AFSHAN)
Subject: misunderstood!
Summary: don't be so presumptious
Keywords: leaving,but why
Organization: University of Colorado, Boulder
Date: Sun, 26 Jul 1992 16:46:36 GMT

If you thought I left because I saw you
Then you may think again, and in vain.
I left because I didn't, see you that is.
It will not happen again.

Afshan Alam.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: marek@msel.unh.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Subject: pledges of allegiance / Marek+Marie
Originator: marek@mermaid.msel.unh.edu
Organization: UNH Marine Systems Engineering Laboratory
Date: Wed, 22 Jul 1992 00:46:00 GMT


		pledges of allegiance
		-------------------------------------------------------------

		i pledge allegiance to the flag
		of the united states of america
		and to the repulic for which it stands
		one nation under god
		indivisible
		with liberty and justice for all.
		
		i pledge allegiance to my lawn
		mower
		and to the weekend ritual for which it stands
		one lawnmower under me
		a john deere
		with horsepower and clippings for all.
		
		i pledge allegiance to my car
		a luxury sports sedan from abroad
		and to the commute for which it stands
		one cellular phone under dark airconditioned glass
		mostly busy
		with monthly payments too big to disclose.
		
		i pledge allegiance to my wife
		a delta delta delta former pledge
		and to the suburban home for which she stands
		one talk show after another and then some soaps
		but such a clean house
		with energy to spare for social occasions
		and occasional fucking.
		
		i pledge allegiance to my microwave
		and to the beep-beep convenience
		for which it stands, 
		high-power, low-wattage, 
		with ten power settings 
		and popcorn for all.
		
		i pledge allegiance to my lawn, 
		and to the neighborhood for which it stands,
		one chemical treatment, under chemlawn, 
		indestructible, 
		with walking and
		playing for no one.
		
		
			Marek Lugowski / Marie Coffin
			21 July 1992
			Cincinnati, Ohio / Ames, Iowa
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: runstrom@wpi.WPI.EDU (Scott P Runstrom)
Subject: Which do you prefer?
Organization: Worcester Polytechnic Institute
Date: Tue, 21 Jul 1992 19:51:24 GMT

Hello people everywhere:

Could you do me a favor?

I just wrote a poem but can't decide which version of it I like
better, so I am asking for input on it.  So, basically, which of these
do you like better....

Any other comments are appreciated as well.  Especially comments that 
aren't: "I like #1 cause it flows better." (although I will take those too)
 I am especially interested in what people think of the end of the second 
stanza since I like the short "patiently carressed" better but need the 
"and gently" to make the meter consistant.  Is it worth "stretching for 
meter" this way.
   

     -Scott.  (runstrom@wpi.wpi.edu)


# 1  (yet to be titled)

He walked but a few steps behind her
Across the cool, wet grass.

The moonlight settled through the pines 
like a fine snow, making the ground
shimmer as it patiently caressed
each blade of grass.

He followed her closely, their bare feet leaving
long, winding trails across the lawn.

The smell of rain still hung fresh
in the air, slowly mingling with the 
scent of the pines as a gentle breeze
softly lifted it away.

He reached out to touch her,
but didn't.


                    - Scott Runstrom.



# 2

He walked but a few steps behind her
across the cool, wet grass.

The moonlight settled through the pines 
like a fine snow, making the ground
shimmer as it patiently and
gently caressed each blade of grass.

He followed her closely, their bare feet 
weaving trails behind them.

The smell of rain still hung fresh in 
the air, slowly mingling with the 
scent of the pines as a gentle 
breeze softly lifted it away.

He reached out to touch her,
but didn't.


                    - Scott Runstrom.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Poem--Incidental triangle
From: ndliles@miavx2.ham.muohio.edu
Date: 29 Jul 92 19:55:01 EDT
Organization: Miami University, Hamilton campus

In article <712368472.0@mdf.FidoNet>, Ralph.Cherubini@mdf.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini) writes:
>                                 Incidental triangle
>  
> Passionate love
> in the laundry room
> we reached the height of pleasure
> simultaneously
> the clothes dryer and I
> her buzzer screaming joyously
> my woman felt left out
> left
> feeling
> excluded.
>  
>  
> 
> 
>  * Origin: Connect America #5, Austin, Tx, 512-459-3351 (1:382/10.0)
> 

Dear Ralph,

	Sorry to ar of your misfortune in the above. My suggestion
is next time try to figure out a way you can include both. Hope you
can work it out.
			nd
From: hank@shuksan.boeing.com (Hank Manning)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: poetry
Date: 30 Jul 92 17:43:31 GMT
Organization: The Boeing Co., MMST, Seattle, Wa.


                        Diplodicus Erectus


It's just not like me, not like the Truth-teller inside me
Emotions, once so dependable, predictable, seem to have their own purpose
As if they know what is best for me, should control my rationality
They decide if I should laugh or cry, feel beaten by the world or all alone
  in the universe

Like a gentle, plodding Diplodicus, reasoning dimming, nerves still tingling
I await the deep freeze, the big chill, the final rational truth
The end of innocent sentience
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alix@indetech.com (Alexandria North)
Subject: BODIES OF WATER
Organization: Independence Technologies, Inc. Fremont, CA
Date: Mon, 27 Jul 1992 19:43:58 GMT


I'd like to point out that the following poem is *not* about my 
husband (but, then, he knows that).


BODIES OF WATER
---------------

"This water must be chemically active"
a line from a novel
that stuck with me
for it makes me think of you

You like to think of yourself
as an expansive body of water
but trust me, my love
This water must be chemically active

The funny thing is that you can't tell
not you nor anyone else
water is water 
and while a bit murky
your body seems 
innocent enough

But once submerged within you
for just a little too long
parts of me are eaten away
parts I think I really need
And while I did not anticpate
this mysterious and deadly corrosion
Here I am
a little less
than when I first dove in

Copyright 1992 Alexandria North
-- 
-----------------------------------------------------------
"Babies, babies, babies. Why did God make so many babies?
 But no, God didn't make them. Stupid people made them."
      -- Margaret Mitchell, Gone With The Wind
From: ariel_s@west.darkside.com (Ariel S)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: water
Date: 23 Jul 92 14:28:38 GMT
Organization: The Dark Side of the Moon +1 408 245 SPAM




     Let me slip into your waters;
     I surrender... 
     I am yours.
     And yet surrender is the victory,
     the prize, the waiting  
     and the wanting  
     all answered...
  
     Slip into your waters,
     feel the currents against my skin:
     warm and soft, 
     and icy, swift,  
     all churning all whirling,
     all surrounding,
     all quenching...
  
     Laughingly resurface,   
     immersed in you,
     water dripping from my chin               
     my lips wet 
     with the taste of you    
     Drinking you in,   
     you rehydrate --
     alive again, awake again...


(c)       6/15/92 
     

  
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,alt.romance,alt.personals
From: haight@sun.ipl.rpi.edu (Liz Haight)
Subject: love poetry
Keywords: love/heart/soul (...sorry guys)
Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY
Date: Fri, 24 Jul 1992 14:45:14 GMT

   just for you, a.s.

he's lovely, this man
who brings smiles to my eyes
his reach is kind and gentle
making me want to hold his heart
comfort and protect his love 
yet to be felt
my instincts so maternal
so nurturing
toward him
that even i begin to feel
something else
unknown
but oh so genuine
i wish to take hold
of his soul
like the potter
works her clay
and feel him become
something he wishes
to be


-- 
------------------
Elizabeth           /	Don't pass me by like a stranger ...
haight@ipl.rpi.edu  \	    Don't leave me here all alone, so alone, 
		    /		I'm alone ... Talk to me.  [Chris Isaac]
From: cecilw@access.isc-br.com (Cecil Williams)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Poem--My favorite game
Date: 30 Jul 92 22:14:45 GMT
Organization: ISC-Bunker Ramo, Spokane, WA



"Once upon a time, in a world far, far away..."

 Ralph Cherubini wrote:
>
>                                My favorite game
> 
>I have a favorite game
>which you might enjoy
>we can play together
>when next we meet
>it takes two people
>boy and girl
>they must love each other
>very much
>or the game is no fun.             
> 
>The rules are simple
>in this game:
>you may only do things
>which make the other player
>joyful and ecstatic
>and there is only one goal:
>to give to the other
>as much pleasure as you can.
> 
>In my game,
>there are only winners...


"And they lived happily ever after...?"



What happens when one of the "winners" 
get tired of playing the game?

Cecil
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: forda@gtephx.UUCP (Andrew Ford @ AGCS, Phoenix, Arizona)
Subject: Re: Questionings
Summary: More like ad-libbing than C&C
Organization: gte
Date: Wed, 22 Jul 1992 23:47:55 GMT

In article <0095DB44.B4457E40@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu>, ieeug470@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu writes:
> Hey, I need some c&c on this...

Well, this ain't c&c, but I hope someone likes it.

> 
> 
> 	Questionings

                And Answerings

> 
> Why do flowers wilt?

To show us that if we take a loving relationship
and try to confine it to our "vase," it will
surely wilt and die: love will last only if we
share it on its ground.

> Does the sun ever fail to rise?

The sun never rises
The world turns to greet the sun each day
If you fail to turn towards love,
Your heart will live in darkness:
Turn towards love at each opportunity
And you will find a blend of light and dark
(But in the end, you will mostly remember only light)
And with luck, you will one day turn and greet an arctic day.

> Do you truly love or just have infatuation?

Does it matter? Are not both pleasant experiences?
Worry not for the content of another heart,
Worry for the content of your own hear
For those who love truly
Do attract true love.

> Why count the stars?

Because it's a perfect excuse
To sit quietly, closely to the one you love
All through the night

> Does our life really matter?

The answer to that is up to each of us:
The life which has touched another soul
And brought happines into another life
Really Matter
The more lives you've touched
And the more you've given them,
The more you matter

> Do conflicting desires rule your actions?

On a daily basis, I have conflicting desires
Conflict is a catalyst for growth,
Conflict within promots growth within
Is that not why we are here?

> When will I die??

When you stop growing,
Stop loving,
Stop caring,
Stop touching,
You die.

When your heart stops beating
And your brain stops thinking
Then you leave this life 
And begin preparations for 
The next pass thorugh.

And the saddest life of all
Is when the soul stops 
Before the body does.
-- 
"25 States allow anyone to buy a gun, strap it on, and walk down the street with
no permit of any kind: some say it's crazy.  However, 4 out of 5 US murders are 
committed in the other half of the country: so who is crazy?"   -  Andrew Ford
gtephx!forda@enuucp.eas.asu.edu  OR  !uunet!samsung!romed!enuucp!gtephx!forda
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: don't remember
Date: 26 Jul 92 09:24:49 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland


hi. i was just warming up my brain for dinner
and i went to taste a spoonful when there was this
humming noise and i spilt some that went like this:
	--
it's an old morality
father snare
mother snare
baby homing flaring flying
mother snare
father snare
absent from the waving corn
pork and beans
mutton flower
scratching in the dirt
returns
grandmother
grandfather
grandbaby snare
	--
i wonder what it was that i've
probably forgotten.

-m.