HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: Dreams
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 03:59:42 GMT


		Dreams

They only come out at night,
And end at the dawn's early light,
They are like fantasies--
both good and bad,
both happy and sad,
Hidden beneath our imaginations,
In our minds they are frustrations,
That haunt us,
Surround us,
And bind us to the world of exploitation,
No matter where you hide,
Not even inside your mind,
They will find you,
And try to blind you,
They will hold you,
And keep you,
From facing reality,
Dreams are the inflictors of pain,
They give you more loss than gain,
They pursue you,
And move you,
Further away,
Dreams are the hopes of the passed,
They are hopes that will last,
Through eternity,
They are dreams of the mind,
Dreams of a different kind,
Dreams that will leave you in despair,
They are dreams that you just cannot bare,
They are dreams...
From: ees1in@ee.surrey.ac.uk (Ivailo Nedelchev)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: suck my mouth
Keywords: alibaba and forty bandits
Date: 4 Sep 92 19:43:06 GMT
Organization: University of Surrey, Guildford, England

sweet sugar crisps in my mouth
cant spit it

bleeding licks on my face
cant wash it

lots of lies in my heart
cant trust it

ivailo

-- 

 _   /|
 \`0.o'
 =(_|_)=-  i am not a cat, i am an address !!!
    V
From: ttasset@vax1.umkc.edu (TOM TASSET - COMPUTING SERVICES)
Newsgroups: local.alt.chat,rec.arts.poems
Subject: Being a Tuba Player
Date: 31 Aug 92 15:20:34 GMT
Article-I.D.: parsifal.1992Aug31.152034.21798
Reply-To: ttasset@vax1.umkc.edu (TOM TASSET - COMPUTING SERVICES)
Organization: University of Missouri - Kansas City


I like to play the tuba,
I play it all the time.
If you have a tuba,
I shall claim it's mine.

I play it in the morning,
Starting during dawn.
I'll play it till the evening,
I'll play it all day long.

If you hear my tuba,
Blowing loud all through the night,
You'll notice that my tuba,
Is quite an awnry fright!

Tuba, tuba, tuba...oh,
Tuba, tuba, tuba...blow!

I like to play the tuba,
And will till the day I die.
And even in God's great kingdom,
My tuba sure shall survive!

Tom
From: jpg@bnr.co.uk (Jonathan P. Gibbons)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Notes of darkness
Date: 2 Sep 92 12:46:55 GMT
Distribution: rec
Organization: BNR Europe Ltd, London Rd, Harlow, Essex, CM19 9NA, U.K.

Got kicked out of .prose so here goes.

Notes of Darkness
-----------------

With a start he woke
The window rattled to the moaning voice of the wind
A silent shiver ran through the house
Nights dark footsteps creaked a lonely board

Cold and still as stone he lay, ears straining
A far off rumble of a midnight traveller on the motorway
Nothing more
And then a rattle of a surely closed door

Nothing he thinks, bad memories, no more
Yet his fists clench and his ears ache to sense nothing
Another creak
Too close to a silent footfall, to much linked to its predecessor  
          (or was there one?)

Could it be? In a moments denial the figure curls and hunches,
sheets pull up, head buries in pillows and yet the ears still wait,
The curtain rustles and the trees sigh to the moon
Blown by the wind from the unknown dark

Nothing more?  The old house breathing,
Minutes pass and breath slows as pulse sleeps,
Unnoticed the floorboards creak and the handle turns,
Ears speak to a slumbering, deaf brain,

How close to knowing he was then,
Instincts rising to guard him,
but no, the easy denial came as on many other dark nights
leaving him defenceless, helpless and in sight

A sudden rush, an awesome might
claws and teeth, eyes alight to red blood that flows darkly,
That flows and pools and lays alone
Long after, nothing but a stain in anothers creaking home.


Jonathan
--
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
  With fearsome eyes and fiery breath the dragon burnt the girl to death
                    -- from "Too Late Saint George"
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: Waiting
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 21:43:32 GMT

	Waiting

You said you'd be here,
Being stood up was my greatest fear,
You never showed,
A feeling of disappointment I bestowed,
And now amidst my room,
I'm just a statue in the gloom,
Nothing else to do,
I only sit and wait for you,
With nowhere to go,
I just pace to and fro,
A feeling of remorse has swept over me,
I am no longer the way I use to be,
Instead I sit here waiting,
My spirit abating,
I only wish you'd phone,
Why do you leave me here alone?
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jaguar@netcom.com (Crazy Poem Head)
Subject: Re: 20 Century Poetry
Date: Wed, 26 Aug 92 00:34:48 GMT
Organization: Netcom - Online Communication Services  (408 241-9760 guest) 

just speaking of women poets, political prisoners, etc., i saw a
documentary recently on the Russian poet Axmatova.  if you're
considering doing something on these suggested topics you might want to
look into her.

-- 

*jaguar woman*				near wild heaven,
[jaguar@netcom.com]			not near enough
[jaguar@ardath.slisp.cs.cmu.edu]	
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poetry,rec.arts.poems,rec.arts.books
From: calvo@nssdca.gsfc.nasa.gov (Sherri Calvo)
Subject: Re: Poetry Suggestion
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41    
Organization: NASA - Goddard Space Flight Center
Date: Thu, 3 Sep 1992 16:32:00 GMT

In article <scottj-010992160636@iamac-1.dml.georgetown.edu>, scottj@tahiti.dml.georgetown.edu (John L. Scott) writes...
>I will soon read a poem to my Toastmasters club (a club for people
>interested in improving public speaking skills).   I am looking for a
>particular sort of poem to read--I want an inspirational poem, a rousing
>tribute to the power and spirit of the human race.  I want a poem that
>brings a lump to your throat and makes you proud to be a human being.  I am
>particularly interested in something that celebrates the the noble or
>courageous individual.  I also need it to be from a reasonably well known
>poet, one that I would be able to find in a public or college library.
> 
>So how about it?  Anybody out there have any favorites that fit the bill? 
>Any suggestions you can give me would be of the greatest help and would be
>sincerely appreciated.
> 
>Please respond by email or by posting.
> 
>John Scott
>scottj@gumedlib.dml.georgetown.edu

This may seem like an off-the-wall suggestion, but one place to find 
several examples of the kind of works you seek would be a 
Unitarian-Universalist hymnbook. These are loaded with the words of 
19th-century New England transcendentalists and other idealistic 
types, generally set to older hymn tunes (I'm not suggesting you sing 
to your Toastmasters club; just trying to give you an idea of what's 
in these books). Many if not most are completely non-theological and 
all are humanist in orientation. If you can't get hold of one of
these hymnbooks, I'd recommend the transcendentalists anyway. Any 
librarian should be able to hand you a stack.

Sherri

Sherri Chasin Calvo
calvo@nssdca.gsfc.nasa.gov
From: donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: a touch of green
Date: 2 Sep 92 15:39:49 GMT
Organization: UNIX International, Parsippany, NJ

In article <7710557@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM) daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) writes:
)> Sorry, I just had to say this.  Doug seems like a decent sort of fellow-
)> and I haven't noticed him writing odes about "it's not easy being Green".
)> 
)> dammit man.  cocktail?
)
)Thanks oh thanks for the lovely defense.  But dear posthumous
)and I are duelists who live the jab and the thrust.  We have
)a go at one another now and again to stay on our toes.
)
)This merely demonstrates that we were lovers in a previous
)incarnation.

Yes, we were Tom and Jerry.
)
)Sure he means to wound.  But I parry and riposte and it is
)his blood that greets the air with a smile and a kiss.

It's good to bleed now and again--helps the circulation.
)
)doug


posthumous
-- 
nobody/not even the rain/              	/	   /      /  /    
 /   /   /     /   /   / /     /       /    /    // /    /  /         /    
/     / / /   /   /     /   / /    / /   / / /  /  /   /      /      /
   / /   /   /	/	 / /      //    /   / /     / /      / / /
From: beh@churchy.gnu.ai.mit.edu (Bruce Howells)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: void, a void, avoid
Date: 24 Aug 92 01:58:14 GMT
Distribution: rec
Organization: Internet access via the Free Software Foundation


Void.
a void.
avoid?

Mama, once, I was your little girl,
was I not?
Hair shiny as a black cat's miaow in the moonlight
wasn't it?
I don't remember
(won't remember)
now.

I've always wondered where the
years went to.
It seems as if there always
was some fantasy or other
of a princess who somehow got lost
away from her real parents
away from her castle,
being left with you for just a little while.

Then, when I got older, I thought,
just maybe, I was
Michael's daughter.
Michael, the angel
Michael, the singer
Michael, the healer
who left me with you
for just a little while.

And I'd bring my golden head
up close to your aged dark one,
and whisper my secrets
because, Mama,
I knew the real truth,
didn't I?

Where did the lost years go, Mama?
Why can't I remember?

Void.

The years between 1965 and 
1970
are somehow missing,
aren't they...

where are they, Mama?

If I can remember the kittens being
born 
(2)
if I can remember the rocking horse
(3)
where are the forbidden years?
(lost in the closet
the dark closet
what happened in the closet?)

Void.

I don't remember...

But I was only left with you for 
a little while.

A void.

My mother wouldn't
(would she?)
force the issues at hand,
wouldn't make me sing,
wouldn't make me hide,
wouldn't make me fear
reality
(would she?)

Avoid.

Oh, but you see, the
truth is this:

I am yours, Mama,
yes, I am...

I may not look like you,
may still look like the
angel Michael

but I think
(void)
just like
(void)
you...

avoid.

--Nancy Howells
(beh@gnu.ai.mit.edu for a little while longer)
(with thanks to the angel who protects)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: poem about Anne Sexton
From: klaw@ecst.csuchico.edu (Almighty Nodens the Master of the Elder Sign)
Date: Tue, 25 Aug 1992 21:31:45 GMT
Organization: California State University, Chico

I'm -glad- to see somebody out there likes Anne Sexton.
I'd -like- to see alot more, maybe even an A.S. cult
of devoted worshippers... What' ya say people?
I have a shrine to Anne set up in my hall closet myself
and }iI burn candles and incense there continually.
How about a new news group.. Alt.Worshippers.of.Anne.Sexton
or what?

klaw@ecst.csuchico.edu
(Sorry no banner or witty quote)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: When You Are Near
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 03:01:50 GMT

	When you are near
	My soul comes alive
	A feeling inside
	Begins to grow
	It makes me
	Want you all the more
	Oh...if only for one night
	I'd cherish it forever
	For there's a fire
	Burning within my heart
	And nothing to relinquish

	When you are near
	I become timid
	My words
	They just won't come out right
	I become vulnerable
	As a waif
	Without a past
	Outside I appear
	A woman
	But inside remains
	A long lost child

	When you are near
	You renew my hopes
	You bring out
	That long lost child
	From within
	My deep and darkened heart
	I live for the next time
	We shall meet
	To allow my vulnerability
	To show
	And to see that long lost child
	Finally revealed
	
	When you are near
	I am childishly care-free
	As though nothing in the world
	Seems to matter
	Except the time we have together
	Oh...how I wish
	I could make time stand still
	An endless moment 
	Allowed to flourish infinitely

		--Terri
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: The Face of Homelessness
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 03:54:47 GMT


		The Face of Homelessness

I listen to the wind whistling outside,
As deep under the covers I slide,
I am protected within this cardboard box
that I now call home,
My clothes are dirty, I haven't bathed in
days, and I feel so alone,
I am kept warm by the layers of clothing
I have managed to wear,
And a knitted stocking hat that hides my
oily hair,
I have yet to get used to the nasty stares
people give,
People are so cruel in this world which we live,
I doubt if ever just once any one of them
had to fend dinner from a garbage can,
Have you, sir?  Or you, ma'am?
I have been to college and received my degree,
So I am just like any one else, you see...
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: Self-Destruction
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 20:01:00 GMT

	Self-Destruction

You're so very confused,
Not one bit amused,
You feel you're floating on thin air,
It's one hell of a scare,
At any moment you could fall down,
Only to find that you hit ground,
But you don't have the courage to take
The chance,
And yet the persisting feeling is 
Enhanced,
To be once again set free,
Endless like the sea,
You don't know if it's something you
Could handle,
Like sitting and watching a burning
Candle,
Wishing for the flame to just go away,
The longer you sit, the more it seems to stay,
It seems awkward that it be so persistent,
Especially since you keep being resistant,
But you really don't know what to do,
You only wish someone could decide for you,
However, it's a decision only you can make,
But you must consider what you're putting at stake.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: campbell@clam.med.ge.com (Scott Campbell Mfg QIE 4-6778)
Subject: pirates
Reply-To: campbell@clam.med.ge.com (Scott Campbell Mfg QIE 4-6778)
Organization: GE Medical Systems, Milwaukee,  WI
Distribution: usa
Date: Thu, 27 Aug 92 00:05:42 GMT


I need help, and don't know if this is the group to ask or not
If there is a better place to post let me know.
I am looking for old pirate poems
ditys or songs.  If anyone can point toward a source or send me 
the words, I would appreciate it.  Thanks



Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: lugowski@ils.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Subject: scattered showers and thunderstorms... / Marek+Marie
Organization: The Institute for the Learning Sciences
Date: Tue, 25 Aug 1992 22:44:05 GMT


		scattered showers and thunderstorms,
		especially towards morning
		-------------------------------------------------------------

		1.

		according to the pentagon, iraq.  iraq.
		accordion.  accordion.  unfold with a twang.
		hurricane andrew is forcing mass evacuation.

		2.

		and here the showers are not scattered
		they are scattering on everything
		forcing the masses to be blessed
		with profane prairie water.
		everyone scurries in the rain
		everyone looks the same.
		
		they hurry into doorways,
		they hunch, turtles that they are,
		they have the weary smiles
		of drenched telephone wire birds.

		3.

		this morning my class showered me
		with answers.  we initiated the rite
		of the fall semester, and we laid in supplies
		for the duration.  

		4.

		blessed be the rain.
		accordion.  accordion.  unfold with a twang.
		pearly water on the pearlescent fingerboard.


			Marek Lugowski / Marie Coffin
			25 August 1992
			Evanston, Illinois / Ames, Iowa
From: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: overlooking / Marie Coffin
Date: 23 Aug 92 19:33:21 GMT
Reply-To: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Organization: Iowa State University


	overlooking
	--------------------------------------
	
	dark
	darker
	darker
	thirty-six inches
	of black ice
	hold me up.
	
	in the middle
	of a lake
	in the middle 
	of the woods
	in the middle
	of south dakota
	must be the 
	darkest 
	hold of all.
	astronomers
	must ponder this
	black spot
	on the dark side
	of the earth.
	
	i've never seen
	anything 
	so dark before,
	never been so far
	from electricity,
	but when 
	i look up,
	i'm dizzy
	falling into the sky.
	i've never seen
	so many stars before.
	
	this scene
	these lights
	this milky way,
	my own production,
	this hit
	s me in the eyes.
	i hold these
	stars in my hand.
	i give them 
	to the world.
	i unfurl this overhead carpet
	to decorate
	the biggest
	christmas tree of all.
	and i don't fall.
	
	now thirty-six floors
	of a boston hotel
	hold me above
	the lights
	and if i stood on my head
	i might imagine 
	i was falling in the sky.
	i love
	lights in the dark
	and heights
	making myself look down
	and the organized patterns
	that make me believe
	someone has a plan.
	
	i could watch the whole night
	through the worlds
	of drops of water
	on the glass.
	 
	i love contrast.
	i'm enchanted by the skinny straps 
	slipping off the shoulders
	of this black silky night,
	but i itch for the
	nubby scratchy cotton matte black
	nights of the midwest
	that don't entice me
	to stay up.  lately
	i'm eager to rest
	in my own bed.


Marie Coffin
August 23, 1992
From: amc@waikato.ac.nz
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: **POEMS WANTED**
Date: 3 Sep 92 16:10:44 +1200
Organization: University of Waikato, Hamilton, New Zealand

I am the Arts Editor for our University Newspaper have been reading some of
these poems and are very impressed. If you have a poem that you would like 
New Zealand to read.... go ahead and send it to me.

Thanx  
Anna

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: Here I Stand and Face the Rain...
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 04:06:53 GMT


Here I Stand and Face the Rain...

Here I stand and face the rain,
Feeling and immense pain,
Perhaps it's of guilt,
Or possibly glee,
I have no idea what's come over me...

Here I stand and face the rain,
I'm in my utmost sorrowful domain,
It's so peaceful and dark,
Lightning is the storm's only spark,
What's mine?

Here I stand and face the rain,
It's become my one and only domain,
I could stay here forever,
It could be my greatest endeavor,

Here I stand and face the rain,
It's washed away most of the pain,
But soon it will go,
Like everyone I know,
And I'll still be here,
Without a fear,
Waiting for its return,
For that I'll yearn.
From: jpg@bnr.co.uk (Jonathan P. Gibbons)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Fred (fantasy)
Date: 2 Sep 92 12:51:36 GMT
Distribution: rec
Organization: BNR Europe Ltd, London Rd, Harlow, Essex, CM19 9NA, U.K.


Fred (fantasy)
--------------

Fred the boy was happy and sweet
His mother made him bright and neat
His father gave him skill and wit
until he fell to the depths of an impish pit

Then there came Fred the man
lost and hungry throughout the land
his father gone and his mother too
oh what could the vagabond do

Next he became Fred the novice
For a roaming wizard gave him office
With fasts and study and long long hours
he slowly came to wizardly power

Fred the vengeful set out in the land
dealing justice with his pale hand
at last he found the impish foe
and fought him hard and brought him low

Fred the husband soon became
Lacking emotion and having no friend
but a quiet wife who let him be
and gave him respite from the troubled sea

But fate strikes all twice at least
for the imps kin came to feast
The home shook and the husband cried
to find his gentle wife had died

Fred soon came to his final name
Gaunt but strong he searched again
and secret texts at last he found
and with these terrible death he bound

Fred the pale and mighty man
led fourth his horde throughout the land
Fred the dead with his hands blood red
Masacred imps with the bones he led

The war became large indeed
Based on fates larger need
and Fred eventually marched into the west
Doing what he finally knew best

Killing!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lets be happy :-)
Jonathan


--
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
  With fearsome eyes and fiery breath the dragon burnt the girl to death
                    -- from "Too Late Saint George"
From: mzaransk@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu (Marcin Zaranski)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: *** (i never use titles)
Date: 4 Sep 92 19:51:31 GMT
Article-I.D.: news.Bu2KHx.IAp
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana


      her hair flows flie following the rythm of the stars
      sways softly languidly slowly
      dancing flame in the summer night

      it's dark & the shadows whisper
      but the night is stoned & deaf
      the grass caresses the wind
      i'm jealous of my loose cool lover

      her smile is sweet & the moon cries
      light unto her lips, makes them glisten
      golden sand  sun strands cascade

      follow us into the lost lives of the forest
      trees are here  don't be afraid
      come with us into the starlit fields

      be gentle, we're fragile imagine freedom
      life and dreams ready to be entered from
      w/in the mind

      the universe is crying........
				  ..........
From: connorm@vax.sonoma.edu (Michelle Connor)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Sonidos
Date: 4 Sep 92 20:53:00 GMT
Organization: Sonoma State University
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41


--Sonidos--

Cygnets and perfumes cloud echoless,
within the night aerie aurora and eros.
The sabers daunt aweary one son of ice,
one free and rare of aloes.

With serest and cruellest smiles
the leonines of gears peruse
the aura of a marina siren
who had nova to orion and siezed aries.

ruby acid encased in sinew,
Lions revel in fragile civility,
Girdled tigree awoke the altar's chimeras.

Molten metals in flower siestas lean,
elevate the riven of lost medallions
to thrum of civility and oases.

--Michelle O'Connor--

Please comment, criticize -mail or post ok-
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: darice@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au (Fred Rice)
Subject: Unforgiveness Poem
Organization: Monash University, Melb., Australia.
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1992 10:12:00 GMT


Mother, you left in the chill of night
When I was alone and cold and scared
When my heart would tremble at every muttering bush
At every noisy tree
Mother, I can never forgive you
For abandoning my innocence
To the vicious stab of the earth and its inhabitants
Its people

D. A. Rice  1992
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: lugowski@ils.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Subject: The Tombstone / Wislawa Szymborska / trans: Marek+Joanna
Organization: The Institute for the Learning Sciences
Date: Wed, 2 Sep 1992 19:42:05 GMT


		The Tombstone (translation of Nagrobek)
		-------------------------------------------------------------
 
		Here lies, old fashioned as a comma,
		a she-author of a verse or two,
		eternal rest extended by kind earth,
		though the cadaver did not endeavor
		to belong to any literary group.
		Thus, there's nothing on her tomb
		but these lines, those weeds
		and a solitary owl.
		O passerby, take up your laptop electronic brain
		and upon the fate of Szymborska
		sustain a passing vigil.

		 
			Wislawa Szymborska
			Poland
		 
				translated from Polish
				by Marek Lugowski / Joanna Trzeciak
				Dallas, 1989
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: Life as a Vampire
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 04:19:43 GMT


	Life as a Vampire

I've attained features of a vampire,
And my soul the devil has set afire,
I prowl the night in search of blood,
And my victims fall with a thud,
Deep down I don't take pride in a kill,
But it's what I must do for a meal,
I can no longer live on food alone,
So the city streets I roam,
In search of someone new,
This is what I must do...
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems