HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: gardabr@unix1 (Gard Eggesbo Abrahamsen)
Subject: Re: Request: Poem of Admiration from a distance
Organization: University of Trondheim, Norway
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL6]
Date: Fri, 6 Nov 92 09:17:12 GMT

<quote of the request removed, because everyone else included it>

28.9.92 I wrote this poem (and I believe it was posted here)

    (Can't remember the title of it)
    ================================

    I miss u when u're there
    so far away from me
    when I can't hold u
    and feel ur body against mine

    I miss u when u're there
    out of reach, out of sight
    when I can't kiss u
    and hug u

    I miss u when u're here
    and I don't dare to say hello

                             GEA '92


Also a poem I spent some time on for valentine's day 1991. It was very
much apprechiated, but (unfortunately?) it's written in Norwegian. Have
fun trying to translate it...


    (Poem with no name - Insert your own header)
    ============================================

    Eg veit ei jente
    med saa varmt eit smil
    gneistrande auge
    og langt, livleg haar

    Ho er som eit baal
    i den kalde vinternatta
    eit mektig hav
    av flammande kjaerleik

    Trollbunden dansar eg
    rundt baalet, no
    let elden sluke meg
    i virvlande ekstase

    Som sjoemann kjempar
    eg i rivande sjoe
    held fast i skuta
    slepp ikkje taket

    Med henne vil eg
    ete Spaghetti Bolognese
    og koeyre karusell
    i ein abnorm eksplosjon

                            GEA '91

Still, the best poem I've written about it is this one. It's still in Norwegian
but this time is should be easily translated, and easily understood.

    (still with no specific title in mind)
    ======================================

    blikk blikk
    blunk
    klukk klukk
    klikk

                              GEA '91

Unfortunately, most of the poems I've written are in Norwegian. The SHORT
STORIES, however, is a totally different matter. If enough people want me to,
I will gladly post some of these... but I guess r.a.p. isn't the right group
for this...?

                                      With a distant love, yours
                                        Gard Eggesboe Abrahamsen

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Subject: Re: holy sisters
Keywords: holy sisters
Reply-To: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Organization: Iowa State University
Date: Fri, 13 Nov 1992 23:33:11 GMT

In article <steele.721676923@chip.aem.umn.edu>, steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie
Steele) writes:
> 
> 
> holy sisters
> 
  [most of poem deleted to save space]
> 
> ordain Her
> because Her heart
> is as wild
> and black
> as these november
> crows sutured
> into the blank
> of this blue
> heaven
> and You
> should be afraid
> 

Steph -- I am reprinting the last stanza here, because I really like it.  
The imagery is very powerful.  I found the rest of the poem rather 
confusing:  it seems to be a reference to the Church of England's recent
decision to ordain women, but I'm not sure what you are saying about this
decision.  In fact, I'm not sure what you're saying about women.  

Also, the use of capitals (apparently some comment on the practice of 
capitalizing references to God) was more confusing that enlightening.  


Marie Coffin
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sara@gator.rn.com (Sara Gordon)
Subject: equally
Keywords: act 2
Organization: The Gator Conferencing System 219-289-3745 
Date: Fri, 6 Nov 1992 06:36:59 GMT



 
        technically adept
 
	and then I did something that was equally worse
	you know, he plays with his anti-virile algorithms all day
	it is extremely pleasant so you must not do it
	what we need here is some snatch and grab
	I think we maybe made some mistakes
	we never should have talked about anything
	I sleep with an unloaded gun under my pillow
	just in case I should ever need it
	I bet Moe likes to light fires, flagrantly
	I wouldn't want to hurt myself, or you, not ever
	that tear you distributed after you made it more dangerous
	let's pretend it never happened, in bulgarian
	we would get it wrong in italian
 
 
Sarah Gordon & Tom Wachtel, South Bend, in the morning
 

-- 
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Talk to me about computer viruses.        sara@gator.rn.com  
                                          SGordon@Dockmaster.ncsc.mil
From: marek@msel.unh.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: the lone dino / Marek
Date: 7 Nov 1992 05:43:29 GMT
Organization: /i-was-lost+i-am-found
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: mermaid.msel.unh.edu
Originator: marek@mermaid.msel.unh.edu


		the lone dino
		-------------------------------------------------------------

		you used to
		stalk the high plains
		of deconstruction
		in feathers (and tar)
		leaving huge imprints
		and mangled readers
		the rex, poetry tsar.
		
		O where have you gone
		joe (dimaggio)
		the o'toole nation 
		is crying its hamster eyes out
		for you.
		
		with red rubies, or pomegranate seeds
		or plastic beads
		they look longingly to your
		devolved nonpresence
		like abandoned sandbox playthings look
		to a fondly missed bully.
		
		the lone dino...
		
		
			Marek Lugowski
			6 November 1992
			Chicago, Illinois
From: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Deep Within...
Date: 5 Nov 92 22:35:33 GMT
Article-I.D.: rdg.1992Nov5.223533.20212
Reply-To: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Organization: Digital Equipment Corporation


	Deep Within...
	(Meditation)


	Nightly trance, headlights dancing 'round,
	Across the city, late, homeward bound,
	My timid gate carries me, emotions wound.
	Walkman plays my favorite song... I cannot hear a sound.

					msj
From: block@iccgcc.decnet.ab.com (Rolling Thunder)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: My pain has a name
Date: 10 Nov 92 07:01:16 EST

My pain has a name

She said it was over, that our love was through
It hurt me so deeply, she left me for you
For years we had bonded, I thought love was true
Now she was leaving, for somebody new
Men have been broken by women like her
They kill and are fatal, go mentally ill
As strong as a man seems, deep down in his heart
He does have a weak side that can tear him apart


       B. B.
From: jtrue@acpub.duke.edu (jtrue)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: nothin' sez lovin' / jtrue
Date: 13 Nov 92 04:01:58 GMT
Organization: the gospel of zagnut

..like my boots in this evening's mud,
homeward,
the last light having fallen 
through my hands, wet like the lead-tainted 
water of the old building
I spent the day-analog in.
Black glimmerglass
parking lots amplify the night
as useless low beams
sweep over me like single-
stranded paintbrushes
trying to render me in colors I won't allow.
Even more hues
are banished by the dusk and
I whistle as I pass
the autoclave graveyard,
knowing that sterility
can be brought about by steam and 17 atmospheres
or by a simple blindfold of my own making.
The bark is slippery in the rain and dark
and the limb is dead this far out.
And I am consoled knowing that I
can only ever choose one dead end
in this maze of bifurcations.
I could fall, of course,
but not yet.  My knuckles,
if I could see them,
would be white,
clenched around this cable of meat or wood or rust,
as it swings in the wettened wind,
as if somewhere
omens are spoken
through glistening gray lips.

-jtrue1992
From: sheilah@wam.umd.edu (Sheila Herndon)
Subject: Re: blatantly not poetry.  but I gotta know.
Summary: still not poetry
Organization: University of Maryland, College Park
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 1992 18:26:45 GMT

In article <1992Nov10.175641.1185@u.washington.edu> zola@u.washington.edu writes:
>
>within windows (just for drag and drop stuff, not because I like windows).
						^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

giggle.


:)
-- 
I am always wrong. Don't believe me ever.
stark raving sane  sheilah@wam.umd.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sara@gator.rn.com (Sara Gordon)
Subject: candle
Keywords: act 2
Organization: The Gator Conferencing System 219-289-3745 
Date: Fri, 6 Nov 1992 06:35:55 GMT



 
	was the candle burning slowly in that cold grey hand?
	i hope it burns right through his very ordered soul
	not that it ever could...no such place to go
	address unknown, no carrier...no such rivered flow
		you're a puff puff puffing puffin
		you puff but you don't blow
		well, that's all I had to say so now I'll go
		call me if you want to see my show
 
 
Sara Gordon & Tom Wachtel, South Bend, in the birdcage

-- 
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Talk to me about computer viruses.        sara@gator.rn.com  
                                          SGordon@Dockmaster.ncsc.mil
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jtice@softwords.bc.ca (Jason W. Tice)
Subject: A Reply to your glances (C&C?)
Followup-To: jtice@ester.uvic.ca
Originator: jtice@ester
Keywords: sonnet
Organization: University of Victoria, Victoria, BC, Canada
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 92 00:47:56 GMT

Thought I'd post one of the sonnets that I'll be reading soon...

A reply to your glances

I cannot give you what you will not request
I can make no promise, offer no balm,
create no potion to ease your distress--
I fear wounding your heart, crushing your calm.
I wish you no pain.  If you chooser to stay
with ill-chanced emotion unwisely placed
in others' hearts, expect remorse, dismay,
anger, shame, darkness, pain not to be faced.
But I cannot keep you from trying, still,
to woo my mind, my body and my heart.
I will make no recompense for your ill.
This you must know--I've warned you from the start.
If I would return your warmth and passion
you'd be more in lvoe, but less in fashion.
From: ch526@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Les Jensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: War in Abstract
Date: 7 Nov 1992 14:53:42 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu


WAR

Crusades of Armies
Crying Blood and Laughing threw eyes of glory
Know not their shame
Stop and admirer all the Construction
They have destroyed

Banners melt into the sky of Smoke and Odor
Doomed by the gasping lungs of Humanity

Mercy cries everywhere
But the Deafness can only hear the Orders to Advance

And The End is here in one beautiful
Dawn like Flash
----------------------------------------------------
All opinions, comments and advise will be gratefully accepted...
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bechdol@rchland.vnet.ibm.com (Jeff Bechdol)
Subject: Snowflakes
Date: Fri, 06 Nov 1992 22:23:52 GMT
Reply-To: bechdol@vnet.ibm.com
Disclaimer: This posting represents the poster's views, not necessarily those of IBM
Organization: IBM Rochester


			"Snowflakes"
			------------

		Falling softly in their flight,
		From someplace high above,
		These clouds of quiet white
		Are songs of gentle love.

		Guided softly to the ground,
		Braving distance in their fall.
		In swaying play a wisper sound
		Beckons all around to call.

		Snowflakes from cold begin to live
		To kiss your soft and gentle skin
		From there they roll away
		To tender tears of joy and say,

		"Thank you for the warmth today."


					November 1992
						Allan


-- 
                                                                     Cheers,

                                                          Jeffery A. Bechdol
"Seek first to understand, then to be understood."  IBM/ABS System Design II
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Internet: bechdol@vnet.ibm.com                           Voice: 507/253-5500
  Office: rchland(bechdol)                                 Fax: 507/253-8684
    Post: 3605 Hwy. 52 North; Rochester, MN 55901-7829     T/L: 553
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
            Disclaimer: These are my opinions, not necessarily my employer's
From: kathleen@yang.earlham.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Masquerade
Date: 11 Nov 92 00:52:32 GMT
Organization: Earlham College, Richmond, Indiana

This is not my account, but for now it's the one to respond to.  Note that 
responses are for Jen, not Kathleen.  I hope you enjoy it, please send comments.


MASQUERADE

As I look into your eyes, 
What do I see?
I slip within your soul.
I see past your facade.
Through the funny man,
Beyond the trickster,
Behind the mask that hides you,
I see your soul.
I see the person you try to hide.
Serious, shy, vulnerable,
A master musician.
Kind, generous, sweet,
Lonely.
What I see in you _is_ you.
As I try to go further,
A voice cries out.
The connection we had is severed
Perhaps forever.  And you?
What did you see in me?
You say you saw great fear.
Please believe me, I'm sorry.
I'm not afraid of you.
I just don't want to hurt you.
And now, I see you.
Sunglasses on.
Mask in place.
Facades hiding the real you.
Why?  _Why?_
Please understand, I won't hurt you.
Cast off your masquerade, for if you can,
I might just find the strength 
To cast off my own.

I may never know
What else there might have been,
Or what else you saw in me.
Did you take off _my_ mask?
Did you break through _my_ masquerade?
If you did, heaven help you,
For behind my mask is a wall of pain,
A lifetime of loneliness
I can never share.
You would not understand.
Please, tell me you saw nothing.
Please
You can't have seen through my masquerade.
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Pictures in her mind
Date: 10 Nov 92 23:21:50 GMT
Organization: Real/Time Communications


                           Pictures in her mind
                                (for T.B.)

                She asked where I got it from
                not clothes
                not jewelry
                but the way of making her see
                pictures in her mind
                of what I am saying
                I tell her
                these are not words which I give to you
                these are not thoughts
                they are Life reaching in and painting
                on the living easel of sentience
                soft blue on vital phosphor
                the words come after
                fall out of the picture
                happens so fast you can't see
                I don't know where I got it from
                I give it away
                every moment...




-- 
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
From: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Passing...
Date: 5 Nov 92 22:38:43 GMT
Article-I.D.: rdg.1992Nov5.223843.20429
Reply-To: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Organization: Digital Equipment Corporation



	Passing...
	(Sub: Hourglass...)


	A million grains of sand,
	Silicate remorse slipping,

	Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick.

	I feel each grain as it strikes!
	-- Slow motion pebble 'bounds --
	My time on earth a tiny beach.


				msj
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: u9155376@cs.uow.edu.au (Adam Barclay)
Subject: Poem .. untitled (?) & posted on behalf ..
Summary: rhymin'
Keywords: I post therefore I am
Reply-To: pdickson@mihi.une.edu.au
Organization: Dept of Computer Science, Wollongong University, Australia
Date: Wed, 11 Nov 1992 11:25:49 GMT

Author is James Faulkner but his account is no more.
If you wish to mail comments, etc, please mail pdickson@mihi.une.edu.au
and he will pass any message along to James ..

Begin forwarded message:

*	
*			A Pome
*	
*	When I'm on my very own
*	I like to sit and write a pome
*	A silly way to waste my time:
*	I sit and write a stoopid rhyme
*	Instead of going out to forage
*	For my lunch of cold, wet porridge
*	From a hedge just north of Norridge
*	And in it I will find a sausage
*	And look for words that rhyme with orange.
*	But there arent any.
*
*				james

-- 
Adam Barclay                         |
u9155376@cs.uow.edu.au               |                        No comment
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jww@evolving.com (John W. Woolley)
Subject: Re: uncharted dreams (poem)
Date: Thu, 12 Nov 1992 22:37:31 GMT
Organization: Evolving Systems, Inc.
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL4

ch526@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Les Jensen) writes:
: 
: uncharted dreams
: 
: drowsy brains that day time wander
: into daydreams soft and somber
: drift away and sleep walk slowly [...]

Just thought I'd register my opinion that these three lines are
really beautiful.  The assonance between "wander" and "somber" is
subtle and lovely, and all the alliteration reinforces the image
perfectly.
-- 
Fr. John Woolley (jww@evolving.com); vastly enthusiastic about Augustine,
Austen, babies, Bach, backgammon, baseball, beer, the Bible, Botticelli, Burke,
Chesterton, Dante, Dixieland, hardboiled, Hitchcock, Dr Johnson, Latin, Mozart,
Shakespeare/de Vere, St Teresa, Tolkien, Trollope, Fats Waller, and Washington
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mtaranto@shearson.com (Mark Taranto)
Subject: Re: Well-Met in Manhattan, part 1
Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 1992 19:43:20 GMT

 
 
donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli <aka Posthumous O'Toole>) writes:
 
> While we leaned against the rail, whistling etc., and I slowly overcame the
> melancholy feeling of having my dream of sheila suddenly fade into a
> reality of sheila, (I eventually took comfort in the fact that even her
> lovely body, as I perceived it, was an illusion of sheila, just as her words
> were, and that, as always, reality had nothing to do with it.
 
Even after meeting sheila, I find that I still read her with the same
little voice in my head -- the one that sounds like the dwarf/psychic
in POLTERGEIST.  So, it doesn't matter that in real life, sheila does
not have the little voice, or even a trace of a Texas accent.
 
 
Mark
From: tshields@unssun.nevada.edu (Tim Timothy Dork )
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Sigh
Date: 8 Nov 92 22:53:43 GMT
Reply-To: tshields@unssun.nevada.edu (Tim Timothy Dork )
Organization: University of Nevada, Reno



When Was The Last Time Anyone Saw Kevin And Jennifer?

A sigh let me know
we've arrived.
Miles of tundra,
coffee, Doritos, rest stops
all end here.

From a bus filled
with diesel fumes, dirty socks
and failed deodorant
to dead pollack
destine sirimi.

A fishing village
where the sole store begrudgingly
sells fifteen-dollar
bottled shampoo.
Once caked mud
creeps from your boots
till your wardrobe's
rusty brown.

A former geriatric
cruise-ship port turned
Virginia-city nightmare
where drunken eskimos
now sleep
on rotting wood sidewalks.

Wealth has eluded us
everywhere else,
so here we are.
A few years of
flopping fish
will buy us a restaurant.
Don't cry,
it will pass.

Timothy Shields

tshields@unssun.unr.edu
"Spiffy, spiffy, everything is just fine, fine."
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: Vibrant (c&c welcome)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 1992 16:45:35 GMT



Vibrant.
	That could be the name of a train.

		His trains.
			Forever rushing, running, hurrying, late.
				
				Always going someplace;
         				Absolutely urgent, utterly important.

				Upon reaching it, no rest,
			Just rushing onwards.

		And the network of friends,
	Lines criss-crossing a continent.

Wishing the train would slow down,
	Not stop...just pause a moment.

		And rest.

*****

M.A. Mohanraj
November 10, 1992

-- 
More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads.  One
path leads to despair and utter hopelessness.  The other to total
extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.
						 - Woody Allen
From: lichter@oahu.cs.ucla.edu (Michael I. Lichter)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: my heart is a minimall
Date: 7 Nov 92 08:10:34 GMT
Organization: UCLA, Computer Science Department


		my heart is a minimall
		----------------------------------------------------

		my heart is a three-story
		corner minimall with ample
		parking down below
		featuring adult videos and
		your favorite flavor of 
		frozen yogurt with all
		the toppings

		my heart is an indoor 
		swap-meet with hot dogs and
		boomboxes and desperate venders
		and exotic delights
		and if you stop by 
		my stall the bargains
		will never end

				- ml 92.11.7
From: jtrue@acpub.duke.edu (john)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: places of higher loving
Date: 10 Nov 92 15:56:23 GMT
Organization: the gospel of zagnut

In article <1992Nov10.085324.12991@cs.ucla.edu>, lichter@oahu.cs.ucla.edu (Michael I. Lichter) writes:
My question is this: what do you think about the
> ethics of writing things about past lovers (or whoever) who could
> possibly be identified in your writing?  Is it your right to "artify"
> them?  Do you tread on their rights if you've not made them
> unidentifyable?  Thanks.

perhaps...

she was in the past
but I am not writing about her or the past
What I have of her is now me
only
and it is now
only
just as I was not only in love with her then
I was in love with her in love with me
then
now it is just me in love with me
as her
and her name may indeed appear
but it may as well be mine
perhaps all names are the same name
perhaps there is only one person
the first.

-jtrue1992

P.S.  Michael, I like Rplaces of higher lovingS.  Cool poem.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: hjwulfso@unix.amherst.edu (Harris Wulfson)
Subject: Re: Next Four Years (c&c welcome)
Organization: Amherst College
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL6]
Date: Sun, 8 Nov 1992 20:33:59 GMT


Was that a poem? 

Harris

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ac@cheshire.oxy.edu (Aileen Cho)
Subject: what's in a name
Organization: Occidental College, Los Angeles, CA 90041 USA.
Date: Thu, 12 Nov 1992 09:51:06 GMT


He's a dude 
I'd like to date
He's got warmer eyes
than you,
And better ears.
But he has the same
breath of ashes,
white-bred Dead head cool
like you.
What's worse,
he has your name.   
Rhymes with
fate,
date,
hate,
wait,
too late,
and "Oh, great."
Are things like this
ever a coincidence?

--ac

(disclaimer: spun this off the top of my head in a spontaneous combustion
type of late-night fit.  Sincere suggestions for revisions welcomed.
Cheers.)
From: mcsbc3maw@dct.ac.uk
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem - Entropy
Date: 5 Nov 92 17:16:57 GMT
Organization: Dundee Institute of Technology





				Entropy
				-------



































				The End
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: Re: Request: Poem of Admiration from a distance
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Thu, 5 Nov 1992 15:52:43 GMT

In article <Bx7MAL.5vo@acsu.buffalo.edu> v110ju95@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (MERIKELE) writes:
>Alright this request is for the Romeo in all of us,
>
>   I have been admiring a women from afar and now want to 'tip my hand' to her.

You want an entire poem??!
You're asking a lot, y'know....

Tell ya what, here's a line, free of charge,
no copyright whatsoever (just for you, Doug), 
do whatever you want to it...

"I can't write poetry, but"

Start with that, and go from there.
(I actually do wish you luck....love poems are nasty to write....and I
think Marek and nik and Posthumous have probably bashed you enough.
:-)

>Thanxs again,
>Have a wonderful day
>
>Merikele

You're welcome.

 - Mary Anne
-- 
More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads.  One
path leads to despair and utter hopelessness.  The other to total
extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.
						 - Woody Allen
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,rec.arts.books