HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: v131p9t3@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (Ninstar Cybermage - Back Again from the Mists!)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: +==[====----Last times----====]==+
Date: 25 Aug 92 20:23:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

Last Times

The last time I saw you
I was slim and strong
My body moved splendidly
In it's trained patterns
As my health supported 
It's energy and grace.

The last time I saw you
You were lithesome
Beautiful
A vision that I never touched
In respect for my friend
Who was you.

The last time I saw you
We were friends.

The next time I see you
I'll be fat and clumsy
A cancer depleted husk
Of a man who knows how
But cannot do the old things
I've changed.

The next time I see you
Will you like so many others
Be appalled at the change
Suddenly turn away
And be distant, afraid
Of what my condition means to you?

In the times that I see you
I'll be excercising
Reshaping myself
Trying to rebuild
What I lost from before
Be patient, and see that I won't die.

I won't leave you behind just yet.
Will you leave me?
My Friend?


James Shank           	#		v131p9t3@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu
AKA: Ninstar Cybermage  #	or	shank@acsu.buffalo.edu
###############################################################################
"Ten thousand years old...He could be trouble." -Vampire Hunter D
"Every night I say a prayer, in the hope that there's a heaven..."-Styx
"How do you make ammends for a god's sins?"-Forgotten Realms
##############################################################################
Sneaky Types,Inc.:Clandestine operations for the common man.
	"Don't call us.  We'll just bill you when it's done."
From: donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: a touch of green
Date: 27 Aug 92 13:48:55 GMT
Organization: UNIX International, Parsippany, NJ

In article <7710546@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM> daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) writes:
>In rec.arts.poems, zola@hardy.u.washington.edu (Queen of the Netherlands) writes:
>> >Has Josef resurrected himself in me?
>> 
>> no.
>
>He cannot resurrect himself, because he was never
>actually alive.  He never existed.  He was
>nothing but a pernicious, hysterical, group
>hallucination.  Tap your heels together, and
>recite your favorite mantra.
>
>doug

What is this paltry discussion of EXISTENCE?  Existence is irrelevant!
Next we will be discussing TRUTH!  I implore that doug tap HIS heels
together immediately.  This Messiah stuff is going to his head.  He is
trying to save the world from Josef, but such is a lost cause!  (as my
further adventures will make apparent soon enough)

Hail, Captain!

Posthumous O'Toole

-- 
nobody/not even the rain/              	/	   /      /  /    
 /   /   /     /   /   / /     /       /    /    // /    /  /         /    
/     / / /   /   /     /   / /    / /   / / /  /  /   /      /      /
   / /   /   /	/	 / /      //    /   / /     / /      / / /
From: R3TLM@VM1.CC.UAKRON.EDU
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: almost a sonnet...hope you like it
Date: 25 Aug 92 21:16:19 GMT
Organization: The University of Akron


 
          This started out a different direction, but when I was
almost done, the idea of a sonnet took over and reshaped it. I hope
you like it. I know the rhythm is a little out of sinc, so any
suggestions you might have are appreciated. Any other ideas/compliments/
complaints are also welcome.
 
       Soul Poison
 
you can love or you can hate
it does good things for the soul
kill--destroy, buildup--create
the vast feelins that you hold.
 
There's a poison in the air,
when all emotions are gone.
It takes whats great and makes it fair,
and the days just drag along.
 
its sneaky and it is slow,
when your heart from you is hurled.
Its too late before you know,
you are nothing in this world.
 
Bulletproof, your skin's so dense.
Death--passive indifference.
 
                      --Timothy McCollum
 
 
 
Well, what did ya' think?
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Three word haiku
Date: 30 Aug 92 09:09:35 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland


	 lackadaisical
	hypersensitivity
	   emaciating

			    incarcerated
			counter-revolutionary
			    recapitulates

 insignificant
immortalizatory
 divertimento


			-/\/\/\/-
From: petersm@jacobs.CS.ORST.EDU (Marguerite Petersen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Why?
Date: 27 Aug 92 21:54:34 GMT
Organization: Computer Science Outreach Services - Oregon State University

In article <10015@uqcspe.cs.uq.oz.au> michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au writes:
>In article 1754@leela.cs.orst.edu, petersm@jacobs.CS.ORST.EDU (Marguerite Petersen) writes:
>>
>>WHY
>>
>>I've always told my children
>>Never ask why.
>>That is a question
>>that is not
>>allowed.
>
>I don't understand. How can children be considered as
>anything but precisely and rightly why-asking machines?
>(maybe i should have some and find out)

Actually, when my children were small the *why* questions were easy to
answer ("why is the sky blue?" and "why can we see the stars only at night?"
but as they grew the *why* questions became increasingly complicated and
thus without any valid answers. ("why is there intolerance?" and "why do
countries war with one another"?)  These *why* questions made for lengthy
discussions within our family circle but could never be resolved.  Thus
It has become an infamily joke ("Oops, I just asked a why question.")  I
have had to take the stand as the parent to say in answer to why questions
that "It is.  Now what can we do about it."  Usually much more constructive
IMO than just asking *why*.

>>Yet now I find myself
>>asking why.
>
>I should jolly well think so (exclaims the idealist within).

Even I fall prey to the dreaded *why* question at times.  :-)

>> [...]
>>You comdemn me 
>>without a trial.
>
>>I extend my hand in
>>friendship.
>>Please 
>>take it.
>
>Aah, says the idealist within, worthy sentiments to soothe
>the initial cringe. Maybe i should slit his throat.
>
>-m.

I'm sorry if I made you cringe.  I hope I have explained myself above.
And thank you for your "worthy sentiments" comment.  It is how I try
to live, extending my hand in friendship.  Even if it gets cut off, I
have another hand!

Kathleen O'Toole
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Inadequate
Date: 23 Aug 92 17:38:27 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland

An inadequate description of the
God of Weirdness and Ping.

	L		Brisbane, Aug 91
	-

stranger than.
stranger just than.
a man like five excited buckets
only one containing itself
a man who fizzes up the nose
of the impossible
a man who couldn't exist
and could never have been invented
sits beside me debugging furiously
mirror sunnies, headphones a-wah-wah
beard full of pencils
mouth full of sticky tape.
turns to me - "hruhe hr hraerrerr"
time to change his headband-
the darker paisley
is only for serious coding
and it's almost time to play.

-m.

[hi, l'a e]

(p.s. - the "than." construct means
  "than ... something so much so that I'm not even
   going to try to think of one." and forms part of the
   bizarre idiom of the company where i worked with this
   guy. - as does "Ping", the sound of an exploding brain.)
From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 1992 16:46:50 GMT
Subject: Re: mr. buchanan, you should have been born black
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

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

> maybe if you were black
> you'd understand something about
> tolerance


I agree 100% with the sentiment and intent of your poem, but
this is hardly a certain assertion.  Intolerance is a human
trait.


doug
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: How I feel...
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 03:27:12 GMT


	How I feel...

If you knew how I feel,
Would you still be my friend?
If yo knew how I feel,
Would you say it was the end?
If I told you how I feel,
Would you slap me in the face?
For your love is all I desire,
And there's nothing to take its place...

I can't believe the way I feel,
I wonder if my heart will have to heal,
For I'm all torn up inside,
From wanting so much for you to know,
But our friendship is so special,
It's something I don't want to blow,
You finally made the first move,
But it's something on which I can't rely,
For even though you don't know,
These feelings I can't deny...
From: ccsdgdc@gdr.bath.ac.uk (Douglas Clark)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Cat Poem 26 (last)
Date: 4 Sep 92 08:18:04 GMT
Organization: Bath University Computing Services, UK





The death of Fritz Cat

He is buried at the bottom of the garden.
He died a soldier's death
Boxing Death with his front paws.
He died on the back patio
Where he was digesting a vast meal.
In his last week he liked to sit there.
He came to this, his house, at seven weeks old
And now he will never leave it.
He lived here for thirteen and a half years.
He was my little boy.
Until the last fortnight of his life
He would come to the top of the stairs
To say hello when I returned from the pub.
But as death came closer
He moved out of the back bedroom
Down into the fresh open air.
His appetite improved.
He perked up.
He was a famous cat,
Known throughout the world due to the poems.
`Why do we take on these animals
When it pains us so to lose them?'
There is only one Fritz.



-- 
Douglas Clark                                  Voice : +44 225 826039
Regional Services,                       JANET : D.G.D.Clark@uk.ac.bath
Bath University Computing Services, UUCP : ...uunet!mcsun!uknet!gdr!D.G.D.Clark
Bath, Avon, England BA2 7AY    ARPA : D.G.D.Clark%bath.ac.uk@nsfnet-relay.ac.uk
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--What I remember
Date: 28 Aug 92 14:57:12 GMT
Article-I.D.: wixer.1992Aug28.145712.2280
Organization: Real/Time Communications


                     What I remember
                     (for She)

What I remember
most
from our being together
her sounds
as we were rocked by the ancient impulse
as we danced the eternal dance
as we shared the mutual joy
yes I remember
the sounds of surrender
best of all.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--How I loved the black and white
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Wed, 26 Aug 92 10:27:45 GMT


                        How I loved the black and white

How I loved
the black and white
they are the colors of my school
named Certitude
into which I matriculated
direct out of the womb
taught like a flash
by certain parents
to filter out all pastels
from the buzzing world
sort quickly all subtlety
to the two sides
allowed to me
by that training
given to insure
that I would navigate the seas of experience
like a cutter
with prow razor sharp
leaving feeling all shredded behind
bobbing in the blood-red waters
which followed me always
while I stood
certain
at the helm
full-steam ahead
into the rocks.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--This is a world of all possibilities
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Sun, 30 Aug 92 18:44:27 GMT


                        This is a world of all possibilities

You must know
that this is a world
of all possibilities
that the ones
carefully ignored
are just as possible
as the ones embraced
it is a world
where love blossoms
and is cut down like Spring wheat
where mothers live long enough
to hold infants dead of starvation
at shriveled breasts
where millons
shield their softness behind the false certainty
of machines built to conceal
that this is a world
of all possibilities.
From: bunny@bsu-cs.bsu.edu (Marsh)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem - One-Way Ticket
Keywords: Comments? Criticisms?
Date: 27 Aug 92 03:10:27 GMT
Organization: CS Dept, Ball St U, Muncie, Indiana



ONE-WAY TICKET

I paid my silver, kept back two
and journeyed with the boatman...
the wonders that I saw allayed mere words
and the horrors I encountered left me cold.

The peaches that comprised my lunch
rocked weary with the waves
and my driver nursed his silence as
a good priest keeps his chastity.

Tantalus threw me braving looks and I,
too tender, trusting soul, proffered my fruit;
his rusty head shook off, demanded flesh
and bit into my palm with maddened shrieks.

I woke to find my silver gone,
encumbered with a sudden dread and
bandaged hand, all sense of future passed
and Charon's unkempt dentures newly red.

-Tracy D. Flynn-Marsh
From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 22:50:13 GMT
Subject: Re: Rejection
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, petersm@jacobs.CS.ORST.EDU (Marguerite Petersen) writes:

> REJECTION
> 
> 
> So many times rejected
> in the past
> I thought that I would somehow be 
> immune
> Protected 
> And would never feel the
> pain
> And thusly girded
> Made attempt
> again
> Only to discover
> It still hurts.
> 
> August 26, 1992
> Marg

This community,
bound in loose affinity,
can really not change,
or somehow rearrange,
the past.  

So, there is
really nothing we can do
to make it easier for you.  
But I am sorry to hear it.
I am sad you have to bear it.

Just keep that upper lip good and stiff,
and write some angry peoms to give yourself a lift.



doug

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: csmcm@ux1.cts.eiu.edu (Mary C. McDaniel)
Subject: Why He Became a Poet
Date: Fri, 04 Sep 1992 14:15:35 GMT
Organization: Eastern Illinois University

Why He Became a Poet

He was made to understand that he wasn't alone,
but no one showed him how to be otherwise.
Who in his quiet family could have known how much
the Sunday bowl of fruit 
weighed on him,
not the bad spots themselves, but the human inability
to describe perfection
except by negation, so that a honey pear
was always
unblemished, unbruised, uneaten?
His next discovery
was of the two kinds of people in the world,
those who listen to children
and those who do not.
He married: she perked up her ears at every rambling,
the bougainvillea
cascading down the falls, borrowed tears
the water pasted to his cheeks;
his need to hold
the tree trunk while the locust sang,
its encoded hum
enough to make the saplings want to speak.
What finally put the pencil in his hand
was the accidental sight
of her walk-away face, the perplexed little smile
a doctor prescribes
for those with non-fatal, undiagnosable ills.
His first sonnet was for her just the same,
to say that while he'd tired
of coring apples for an untouched plate,
unrequited imagery does not cease:
it merely lifts its skirt above the knee
and waits for a hungry glance.
 


Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:8588 rec.arts.books:15497
From: twain@milton.u.washington.edu (Barbara Hlavin)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,rec.arts.books
Subject: Re: I give up...
Date: 2 Sep 92 22:49:54 GMT
Article-I.D.: u.1992Sep2.224954.16876
Distribution: usa
Organization: University of Washington, Seattle

In article <1992Sep2.204622.19919@news.acns.nwu.edu> tilden@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Robert Tilden) writes:
>OK, I asked around, and looked in a few books, but I couldn't find it...
>I'm embarassed to have to turn to the experts, but here it is: who wrote it
>and what's it from?

The quote you have posted is from "Dover Beach," by Matthew Arnold.
From: baall@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Reflections
Keywords: None
Date: 27 Aug 92 02:09:57 GMT
Reply-To: baall@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us


Reflections 
   by
Joshua Miller

Imagine
a world of mirrors,
without dimension
your true relfection
in all direction.

Constantly battered
by your hopes
   your fears
   your spiraling slack
and few lines of self
     Confidence.

How long would you retain
a split conscious mindful,
before the sirens sung
fragmenting into shards
multiplying essence
laughing before derange?
From: dutkowsk5111@iscsvax.uni.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Michael McClure on Dennis Miller
Date: 30 Aug 92 13:41:21 -0500
Organization: University of Northern Iowa

Did anybody happen to record the dennis miller show with Michael McClure 
on it. I really need a copy : Audio or Video.  Thanks
-Dave

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: john <jtrue@acpub.duke.edu>
Subject: sleep and sleep/ jtrue
X-Xxmessage-Id: <A6C049D281010D08@phil.zoo.duke.edu>
X-Xxdate: Tue, 25 Aug 92 01:34:26 GMT
Organization: .
X-Useragent: Nuntius v1.1.1d9
Date: Wed, 26 Aug 1992 00:33:01 GMT

I celebrate sleep,
the little and the big.

The single smothering
August night when the air
is the thickest blanket,
a coagulant mass
molded to my naked
body
as I glisten
in the scattered
LED of the clock-radio.

And the forever
night that lives outside of time,
a huge supernumerary season,
for which I provide an inadequate
euphemism: Winter.
Unlike in the real season,
renewal's promise is lost
up the well
and the wooden ladder
is rotted to frozen dust.

I am the grayest squirrel
and I feel the drowse coming on.
And the days are now so short
that warmth and morning sound
like lies.

-jtrue1992

note: in the last section I by no means want to
challenge the eminent Grey-ness of the PostHumous one,
who is by far the Greyest bipedal mammal

c/c/f welcome
jtrue@acpub.duke.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: The Hidden Essence
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 20:07:36 GMT

	The Hidden Essence

The hoot of an owl,
A wolf on the prowl,
The moon shining full and bright,
The trickle of a stream just right,
The peace that's held within,
You can hear the drop of a pin,
The woods that hold the mystery,
And the creatures so small and furry,
The colors all mixed just right,
Something you don't see at night,
The fresh mountain breeze,
How it rustles through the trees,
Everything is put in its place,
Nothing is left to waste,
It's something quite pure,
Of which everyone should endure...
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: For Woody and Royals
Date: 1 Sep 92 16:52:16 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland


      Haiku for Woody,
   Presidential Candidates
     and British Royals.


    dream but fear the touch
   in youth is potential fame
    trust broadcast as shame
 


-/\/\/\/-
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: wizard@wixer.cactus.org (John P Onorato)
Subject: poem:  glass green
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Wed, 26 Aug 92 04:19:08 GMT




Cathartic poem; here it goes:


              GLASS GREEN
              ----- -----


She rolls back the top sheet
to expose a sheet underneath
it is smooth as glass
perfect, in its own way

She gets in,
wrinkling the glass
but once she settles
it is restored

She invites me in
to join her
o!  sweet invitation
sweet promise

She offers herself to me
and I accept the torch,
the treasure
that is her

We sleep,
as one, spent,
alone together
on top of the glass.




10.50a  14 jan 89



Copyright (c) 1988 John Onorato.  All Rights Reserved.


On second thought, maybe I sholuld have crossposted to alt.sex.  Oh well.



-- 
John P Onorato             |   "Softness without strength is weakness.
wizard@wixer.cactus.org    |    Strength without softness is meanness."
cactus.org!wixer!wizard    |             -- Mahatma Ghandi
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,alt.romance,alt.romance.chat
From: sakata@uhunix.uhcc.Hawaii.Edu (Henry Sakata)
Subject: Dry Tears
Organization: University of Hawaii at Manoa
Date: Tue, 1 Sep 1992 05:00:29 GMT


Dry Tears
=========

A friendly wave to say "Hello"
A little smile to let you know
That life continues as we grow
But dry tears keep falling

A bit of humor hides the pain
A laugh aloud clears the rain
The past is treasured in vain
And dry tears keep falling

Sleep keeps the thoughts away
Work engulfs the mind all day
Often times it's good to play
But dry tears keep falling

Time now takes a little more
Heal the hurt, the arid sore
And so love it shall restore
But dry tears keep falling


hns
august 31, 1992
(c) 1992
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: marek@mermaid.msel.unh.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Subject: Re: 20 Century Poetry
Organization: UNH Marine Systems Engineering Laboratory
Date: Tue, 25 Aug 1992 19:37:42 GMT

I have two suggestions for topics:

1.  Compare and contrast Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton with their
    contemporaries, women poets of eastern Europe.  Baranczak's text
    should give you a point of departure for eastern Europe.  You can
    always call him at his office in Harvard. :)

2.  Poets as political prisoners.  Contact Amnesty International USA
    and Asia Watch, Africa Watch and America Watch for sources.

				-- Marek

From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 1992 22:23:57 GMT
Subject: Re: Anticipation
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, petersm@jacobs.CS.ORST.EDU (Marguerite Petersen) writes:

> Hi All!  Just a little thing to while away the summer hours.  My goldfish
> are hungry so must hurry.  
> 
> Anticipation
> 
> On the eve of meeting you
> I am prepared.
> I had my hair done
> Bought a glitzy dress
> That clings to my every curve
> I'll look as good as I can
> I tremble with anticipation.
> But one worry haunts my mind
> Not will you like me
> But rather will I like you
> Or will you let me down
> As I have been let down
> Before.
> 
> Kathleen O'Toole
> August, 1992

As an O'toole, perhaps you should be more concerned about
whether he has brought an adequate quantity of capt. Morgan's
Spiced Rum or whether he will know the proper usage of
the words 'infer' and 'imply' or whether he insists on
saying nausesous when he means nauseated.

doug
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: u9148124@cs.uow.edu.au (Adam Erik Ragland)
Subject: Calm and Carefree fabulous friend
Organization: Dept of Computer Science, Wollongong University, Australia
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 12:50:51 GMT


In a world of strangers,
i found a friend,
hes quiet and calm,
and cool and collected.
He'll take me wherever i want to go,
and bring me home safely again,
Sometimes when i close my eyes,
He spins me around,
sometimes he picks me up,
makes me float above ground,
he cares for my feelings,
and knows to calm me down,
He always makes me happy,
Paints my face like a clown,
He makes me act simple, 
much more like myself,
He makes me so likeable,
and makes me like everyone else,
He asks not to lend money,
Nor takes me for a ride,
just like a partner,
hes always by my side,
Yet what he does for me,
He does not do for all,
Some he makes angry,
Some he makes fall.
He is so quiet,
So calm like the sea,
But the best thing of all,
is hes who i want him to be.




Adam Ragland
u9148124@wraith.cs.uow.edu.au
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jchien@leland.Stanford.EDU (Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien)
Subject: Re: Villanelles?
Organization: The Land of Earthquakes (Southern Cal)
Date: Sat, 29 Aug 92 10:20:52 GMT

In article <9979@uqcspe.cs.uq.oz.au> michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au writes:

>> 	A-c-B/ab-c-A/ab-c-B/ab-c-A/ab-c-B/ab-c-A-B
>
>* Does "A" have to rhyme with "B" as in your example?
>
>* What is the significance of "ab", why not call it "d"?

	"ab" is for "rhymes with both a & b", which necessitates
that "A" rhymes with "B".  Ready now?  ;)

Jennifer



Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems