HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: zen@death.Corp.Sun.COM (d)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: rec.arts.sheep
Date: 7 Jan 93 09:12:13 GMT
Organization: Sun Microsystems Inc., Mountain View, CA
NNTP-Posting-Host: death.corp.sun.com


"I love the flowers
 I love nature
 I love people
 I love the earth"

what is this shit
i'll dis it
thats so old and phony
when it detonates
youll never miss it
one scarlet kiss
with thermonuclear lipstick
and its back to black and dust
  with basics and instinct

tell me --
what the hell are you voting for
politicians who lead us into war
like shepherds leading us to slaughter
we're sad little sheep or cannon fodder

so get on your fucking knees and bleat
hold your right hoof up and repeat after me:

"i shall not become
 a sheep in deed -- or song
 and i'll tell you the final score
 two legs are always better than four"

thats it -- stand up and scream
roll up your wooley baggy sleeves
and get to work on the inside boys and girls
cause thats the way to change the world

and the world needs changing
now
educate yourself
fight for knowledge
for what you believe in
From: wachtel@canon.co.uk (Tom Wachtel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: poem--academics--critiques please
Date: 5 Jan 93 13:11:36 GMT
Reply-To: wachtel@canon.co.uk
Organization: Canon Research Centre Europe Ltd

R3TLM@VM1.CC.UAKRON.EDU writes:


>       any responses are more than welcome because everyone around here
> I've asked has given me the I like and I don't like it. And when asked why,
> they always seem to give me a lot of "I don't know"'s.
>  
>  
> A teacher looked at me as I turned to leave and said,
> "Child, where are you going to now?"
> And I looked at him and replied with all solemness,
> "Down life's hallway, left towards Despair 101."
> Emotionless, he changed direction and abandoned me.
> Maybe, just maybe, someday I think I'll return.
> Ideas, belonging to other people who've come before me,
> Creeping away, teasingly beyond reach of my outstretched fingers.
> Sadly, seemingly grasping nothing, I weep.


	and down emotionless maybe ideas creeping sadly
	a child looked at me as I turned
	grasping nothing solemness



-- 

Tom Wachtel (wachtel@canon.co.uk)
Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:13534 soc.culture.korean:7042
From: hseung@oz.anatomy.upenn.edu (Rebecca H. Seung)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,soc.culture.korean
Subject: Is it love or is it lust?
Date: 10 Jan 1993 00:59:48 -0600
Organization: University of Pennsylvania
NNTP-Posting-Host: cs.utexas.edu


I am your shrimp eating rabbit.
You are my diligent turtle.
Together we dash toward a common goal.

Yet you ear stab me while I doze beneath your shell.

Why do you give me a Roland for an Oliver?
Is it because of our new born bunny-turtle?
Listen, my heart may never pound again...


Rebecca H. Seung
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jww@evolving.com (John W. Woolley)
Subject: Yet Another Love Sonnet
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 21:21:45 GMT
Organization: Evolving Systems, Inc.
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL4

This one I'd really like some feedback on, publicly if you're so inclined,
by email if not.  It's been taking most of my attention for days.  What in
it works, what doesn't, what seems vague or cliche or out of place?


                        In the Museum


        We, witched with relics of Rome, Corinth, Troy
        (and I also by my sweet-fourteenly gold-
        en-haired companion), came to a room where should-
        ered (strange democracy!) funeral portraits, roy-
        al, consular, common.  She pointed -- imperious joy
        of youth! -- "What does this say?"  I, Latinate, told
        her, "Marcus -- son of my slave -- three years old --"
        a sudden clutch at the throat -- "the sweetest boy."

        Ancient griefs, cold faded sorrows spoken
        shuddered us -- smoke, pale curls lost, embers dying.
        O noble Gaius Pollio, ages dead,
        did you know, did you feel, when your Roman heart broken
        shivered in Christian breasts?  "Why are we crying?"
        she asked.  I held her.  "You'll know soon," I said.

-- 
Fr. John Woolley         For al so siker as In principio,
jww@evolving.com         Mulier est hominis confusio, --
                         Madame, the sentence of this Latyn is,
                         "Womman is mannes joye and al his blis."
From: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: confessional writing  ;)
Date: 9 Jan 1993 08:44:10 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu



          I Won't Let Me Go !

i wandered into this garden of daffodils,
tulips, edelweiss, and snow flowers ...
gathered rosehips, currants, and cloudberries.
picnicked by a rocky blue-green glacier-fed fjord
and basked under the cold midnight sun
on the treeless crags of jotunheimen.

but i won't let me go!

me from the glades of cattleyas and plumerias
who wandered between grooves of bamboo and coconut palms...
me who gathered mangoes, passion fruit, and cherimoyas
and picnicked on the white sand beaches
and coral reefs of my father's island.

with these accutrements of regal amethysts,
sensuous pearls, and arrogant gold ...
german cars, woolen suits and silk stockings,
i came to this land  of bitter cold snow
and eyes of arctic blue.

but i won't let me go!

me with warm dark eyes and cinnamon skin
walking barefeet in the sand and  crowned
with white ginger lei on jet black hair ...
me in a silk-brocade gown
wearing anklets of white cowrie shells
dancing the fandango of lights.

i dwell in the corridors of science
mapping the chemistry of life
chasing high energy particles
tracking elusive atoms  and
and stringing intricate molecules

but i won't let me go!

me who needs to play with words
to weave dreams and sculpt visions ...
me with love letters 
to the world
and dream-poems 
to vent the bonfires
of my mind.

          ***

zita maria evensen
c1993, jan 8

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: why Instead is bad writing / Marek
Date: 8 Jan 1993 02:08:12 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu


In a previous article, pagrawal@portal.hq.videocart.com (Pankaj Agrawal) says:

>Marek writes:
[ much good stuff deleted]

>I know I am butting in between two heavyweights on this group. If any of you
>wants to flame me, thats fine as long as you don't expect a response.
>
 i am new to r.a.p.  and work gets in the way of reading posts
thoroughly. may i inquire what qualifies lugoski and zirilli asd heavy-
weights? phud's in lit? volume of posts? number of poems published?
this is not intended to light a match ... just curious.
z.


Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: cdl0915@ultb.isc.rit.edu (Chris Losinger)
Subject: anonymous sex
Originator: cdl0915@ultb
Organization: Rochester Institute of Technology
Date: Thu, 7 Jan 1993 14:38:09 GMT

    
    	blood sogged beef package
    	clear plastic matted to foam
    	anonymous sex 
-- 
        --------------------------------------------------------------
        	c  h  r  i  s   l  o  s  i  n  g  e  r   r  i  t 
Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:13566 alt.suicide.holiday:3319 alt.personals:25466
From: megazone@obsidian.WPI.EDU (MegaZone)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,alt.suicide.holiday,wpi.students.vox,alt.personals
Subject: Will - C&C desired
Date: 11 Jan 1993 14:38:45 GMT
Organization: Worcester Polytechnic Institute
NNTP-Posting-Host: obsidian.wpi.edu

Will

Environmental influence,
Stimulus and response
Decisions controlled,
By subconscious rule
We are our memories,
Past effects present

Imprisoned in chains,
Forged from logical links
Decide to change,
Reprogram the mind
And yet even that,
must be predestined

One logical path,
Is to change others
And cling to the hope,
That it will return

Logic is strict,
But perhaps,
Just perhaps,
This argument is flawed

I hope so

-megazone, playing Aneris' advocate, and scaring myself, 1/11/93
From: gaillard@panix.com (Ed Gaillard)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: fear
Date: 10 Jan 93 21:43:34 GMT
Organization: Radio Free Hades

In daytime you might see him on the street,
his face like any passer-by's, or yours.
He walks beside you on the cracked concrete.

At night, you sleep behind triple-locked doors,
troubled by traffic, sirens, distant screams.

The second-story man invades your slumbers.
Stealthily cutting the bars of your dreams,
he steals your soul, and files off the numbers.


-ed g.
<gaillard@panix.com>
I can't see the lines I used to think I could read between.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: cdl0915@ultb.isc.rit.edu (Chris Losinger)
Subject: Our Hero
Originator: cdl0915@ultb
Organization: Rochester Institute of Technology
Date: Thu, 7 Jan 1993 13:33:31 GMT



	Our Hero wakes and looks about 
	at his feet the cast-offs of passionate struggles
	bundled-up lie
	signifying nothing
	the fallen lying beside
	unaware of the day 

	with his head reeling 
	virtues counted in anonymous fallen armors
	holding himself limply
	in aftermath 

	one knight stands
-- 
        --------------------------------------------------------------
        	c  h  r  i  s   l  o  s  i  n  g  e  r   r  i  t
From: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: seventeen syllables 2    / z.
Date: 11 Jan 1993 08:03:15 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu




          seasons


in his first minutes 
of fresh air ... a child proclaims
here i am ... love me!


young love grows intense ...
the earth warms with urgency ...
mating waltzes in spring.


hands clasped ... with gold bands
coupled ... intertwined ... planting
a tomorrow-seed.


how easy it is!
to drift into dreamless sleep ...
is this paradise?


          ***


zita maria evensen
c1993, jan 11




a
From: zola@hardy.u.washington.edu (riene des tournesols)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: atwood
Date: 4 Jan 93 07:49:39 GMT
Article-I.D.: shelley.1i8q6jINNih2
Reply-To: zola@u.washington.edu
Distribution: world
Organization: Singing Spider Ranch Library
NNTP-Posting-Host: hardy.u.washington.edu



an excerpt from a Margaret Atwood poem ("More and more"):

and if I cut off my long hair,
if I stopped speaking,
if I stopped dreaming for other people about parts of the car
stopped handing them tall creamy flowered silks,
and loosing the magnificent hawks to fly in their direction...
if I stopped crying for the salvation of the tea ceremony,
stopped rushing in excitedly with a spiky bird-of-paradise,
and never let them see how accurate my pistol-shooting is,
who would I be?


-nobody, not even Don Zirilli
*	* * ** 		*** * * ***   	* 	 * * *     *
 *       * * **    **  * **  * * * *   *    ***  *     *   *
*** * * *   * * * * 	 * 	* * 	* * 		** * 
*  * * **** *		* *	 	 	*** 	*  *
From: abenoit@sumax.seattleu.edu (Ana Liza Shelton)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Test-- please ignore.
Date: 12 Jan 1993 17:21:59 -0800
Organization: Seattle University
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: sumax.seattleu.edu


First time effort.  Please ignore.


-- 
Ana Liza Shelton
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jwm3@vivaldi.psu.edu (James Walter Martin)
Subject: maybe she
Organization: & 
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 93 06:07:24 GMT

 maybe she
 smells my sperm 
 that've died on my chest
 i
 was not thinking of her
From: jtrue@acpub.duke.edu (jtrue)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: mobius treadmill / jtrue
Date: 6 Jan 93 16:48:04 GMT
Followup-To: rec.arts.poems
Organization: the gospel of zagnut

Maudlin and the bottom of the mug, 
a lo-res emblem in amber. 
Onward toward a mid-day doldrum 
of functional lunching on bland protein 
and sore-neck seminar driftnapping.

The great arthropod coroner
lives another day in his oculars.
Anything, anyone 
could be beautiful through these 
expensive German optics.
But then again, perhaps not.

Machine-beat through three
distinct layers of whitenoise,
each with its own agenda of interference.
Each day consists in trying to paint
one's self with some kind of contrast
under these flickering fluorescents,
against this Pollock wallpaper.

Between the frames are nights
with warmth only as the saccharine
of low voltage through insulated wires,
a pathetic white capillary bed
between blue layers of woven acrylic,
and memories maintained like cultured cell lines,
immortal but forever altered into morphologies
never intended by nature.

-jtrue1993

c/c/f welcome
jtrue@acpub.duke.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan)
Subject: Here's an UnKaran poem
Reply-To: alk4@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 02:52:47 GMT



Legacy
------


We are broken
into generations.

Propped up
on stages to go through

with wanting props
of dreams explained away

and the dead and undead
of some late great war.

Our hand me downs
we tear to scraps 

and cast 
into coffins.




Alex L. Karan





Let me know.


Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele)
Subject: Re: atwood
Organization: University of Minnesota
Date: Fri, 8 Jan 1993 22:51:22 GMT

hjb@netcom.com (H. J. Bae) writes:

>In article <steele.726433492@chip.aem.umn.edu> steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele) writes:
>>another bit of atwood, in its entirety-
>>
>>	you fit into me
>>	like a hook into an eye
>>
>>	a fish hook
>>	an open eye
>>

>Exhibit C is the young girl
>dragged into the bush by the midwives
>and made to sing while they scrape the flesh
>from between her legs, then tie her thighs
>till she scabs over and is called healed.
>Now she can be married.
>For each childbirth they'll cut her
>open, then sew her up.
>Men like tight woemn.
>The ones that die are carefully buried.

>		-- Margaret Atwood
>			from A Women's Issue
>			from _Notes Towards A Poem That Can Never Be Written_

h.j.bae- this should *really* be printed in its entirety- got an extra couple
of minutes to type it in?

steph.
.



>hwajin
--

=======================================================================
			   Stephanie Steele
			steele@chip.aem.umn.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan)
Subject: Acting at Funeral
Reply-To: alk4@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 13:50:01 GMT



Acting at Funeral
------------------


I look good in black
but do not cry
nor ask why
nor look back.

I look straight ahead
but meet no eye
nor will I cry 
nor will I... nor am I...  




Alex L. Karan

I have a problem working on rhetoric, structure that imposes.
Occasionally I try to turn a weakness into a poem.


Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:13601 rec.pets.cats:16038
From: n9040513@henson.cc.wwu.edu (Andrea Aldridge)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,rec.pets.cats
Subject: Data's "Ode to Spot" - P.S.
Date: 12 Jan 93 04:49:01 GMT
Article-I.D.: henson.1993Jan12.044901.29960
Organization: Western Washington University

Oh yeah:

>Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses 
>control your hunting skills and natural defenses.
 ^^^^^^^
contribute to


-- 
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
<>  Andrea Aldridge    IRC:  Folkie   E-Mail:  n9040513@henson.cc.wwu.edu <>
<>  WWU - 452 Edens Hall North/Bellingham, WA 98225  USA   (206) 650-2647 <>
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: lichter@oahu.cs.ucla.edu (Michael I. Lichter)
Subject: politics
Organization: UCLA, Computer Science Department
Date: Sat, 9 Jan 93 08:25:30 GMT

[i'm sorry, but i couldn't bring myself to contextualize this.  Steph
might have a clue.]

		politics
		-------------------------------------------------------

		wayne called them 
		"the nuns" but i just
		chewed my nails
		awed by their
		canonization, wondered
		how, after we struggled
		together so long, they
		still confused the two of 
		us - just another coupla 
		bearded jewish 
		commies - while they
		stood at parade rest
		astride the church's money
		shrouded in its mysteries
		like dogs in 
		sheep's clothing

			Michael Lichter
			November 15, 1992
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: 78witherspoo@cua.edu
Subject: Happy Birthday to me
Organization: The Catholic University of America
Date: Wed, 6 Jan 1993 17:56:01 GMT

		Happy Birthday to me
		--------------------

		No one ever held a party for me in grade school.
		My birthday was over the holiday break,
		"Too close to Christmas," Amy said.

		Billy and Lunn got parties in homeroom, 
		Their birthdays landed in April with
		the spring rains and kickball in the mud.

		My birthday tripped and fell into the windy
		time after the yule log burned out,
		and "peace on earth" echoed in the strip malls.

		Today is an ordinary day.
		I read my horoscope like any other day:

		"If _January 6_ is your birthday..."

		It told me obvious things.

		But it didn't tell me why I have to throw my own 
		birthday parties.


January 6, 1993


	No, this is not a pity poem, as much as it sounds like one.  I just got
to thinking about grade school.  (This may be the advent of late 20's
nostalgia... I'm not sure.)

Oh well, happy Epiphany to all, and Happy Birthday to Me!

Love and discoveries,

Tom W(itherspoon)

78witherspoo@cua.edu
From: NAT@drao.nrc.ca (Natalie Prowse)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: a close shave / Natalie
Date: 8 Jan 93 19:23:13 GMT
Organization: Dominion Radio Astrophysical Observatory
X-News-Reader: VMS NEWS 1.11



		a close shave
        	-------------------------------------------------------------

		apprehension in your eyes.
		tomorrow is the big day.
		under any other circumstances
		you'd be getting aroused by all
		this attention.
		but you have seen the blood trickling
		down my legs 
		in the shower
		and teased me for my incompetence:
		"no dear.  it's the *wrists*.  
		you're supposed to do the *wrists*"

		i have never done this before
		shaved you clean and smooth.
		i relish this feeling of power,
		of complete control.
		lay back. try to relax.
		i breathe in your ear: "trust me."
		trust me.  
		i cannot hide my amusement
		at your predicament.
		your eyes are wide and 
		bunny-scared.

		shiny snipping sissors remove 
		bristly wirey hair.
		hold still.
		quit moving.
		let me slather this lather
		thick and foamy-slick,
		all over.
		doesn't that feel yummy?

		with gentle guidance the razor
		carefully cuts 
		to expose fine silky skin.
		i stop 
		and slide my finger tip
		along this soft, barren spot.
		if only i'd used whipping cream,
		i could have used my tongue...
		this could be so sensual,
		if only you'd stop giggling.
	
		i'm not trying to make it tickle.
		stop it! stop it!
		hold still!
		or i'll slip 
		and accidentally
		give you that vasectomy 
		right now.
		
	
		-Natalie / Jan 8, 1992
Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:13587 rec.humor:37823
From: johnk@jhunix.hcf.jhu.edu (John J Kuszewski)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,rec.humor
Subject: Re: More Damned Roses Stuff
Date: 11 Jan 1993 18:43:17 -0500
Organization: Homewood Academic Computing, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md, USA
NNTP-Posting-Host: jhunix.hcf.jhu.edu
Keywords: Roses, red, violets, mauve

No, no, no.  It's

Roses are red,
Violets are blue
Most poems rhyme,
But this one doesn't.
-- 
John Kuszewski
johnk@jhunix.hcf.jhu.edu
I'm not an idiot, but I play one on USENET
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alien@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au (Diego Barros)
Subject: Looking Through A Broken Window (C&C Welcome)
Organization: Monash University General Access Unix
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL8]
Date: Fri, 8 Jan 1993 01:40:10 GMT


-- 
			-------------------------
	      -----------------
   _____     : Mmmmm Donuts... :	 Diego Barros - Alien
  /     \    o ----------------   Mail : alien@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Subject: little death big death big little death little... / Marek (1992)
Organization: Northwestern University, Evanston Illinois.
Date: Sat, 9 Jan 1993 09:09:39 GMT

 
                little death big death big little death little big death
                -------------------------------------------------------------
 
                i want to die
                some deaths some others
                i want to postpone
 
                what is the proper supplication
                to the goddess
                other than the body glove
 
                little death big death big little death little big death
                dying together dying alone
 
                overnight over wine
                over the course of many encounters
                over and above any objections
                (which wine goes well with objections?
                the blood of zinfandel?)
 
                but i still would like to die.
 
                objection, murmurs my guardian telephone.
 
 
                        Marek Lugowski
                        28 June 1992
                        Cincinnati, Ohio
From: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Hunger...
Date: 7 Jan 93 21:15:42 GMT
Reply-To: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Organization: Digital Equipment Corporation


	Hunger...


	A droplet sweet, if I could taste,
	Would, my tongue, satiate.

	But desert lips tease my mind,
	Stealing all the lust I find.

	Flower-fruit of cactus pear,
	Stomach growls in despair...

	If only you could be my fare...


				msj
From: satan@wpi.WPI.EDU (Matt Meyer)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Instead
Date: 5 Jan 1993 18:36:50 GMT
Organization: Worcester Polytechnic Institute
NNTP-Posting-Host: wpi.wpi.edu

In article <1993Jan5.170652.29728@news.acns.nwu.edu> marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski) writes:
>In article <402@uiunix.ui.org> donz@uiunix.ui.org (Don Zirilli) writes:
>>
>>		Instead of Growing Old With You
>>		----------------------------------------------
>>
>>
>>		I wish my lips to touch your eye
>>		Where flowers I placed in your hair
>>		Who bargain for shadows that lie
>>		On your face would not their darkness dare.
>
>Remarkably bad piece of writing.  Are you mocking someone or is this
>sincere?  Pending answer I leave listing the (obvious) flaws to fellow
>rappers.  More generally -- why write just to annoy?  Surely one can write
>to annoy in style? :)
>
>				-- Marek

I disagree with Marek, but i'm sure in his 'infinite wisdom' he can point 
out several 'flaws' (according to him and whatever poetry establishment 
he cares to quote). 

The thing that sometimes annoys me about the posted criticism on this group,
is though it is honest (which is important) it is often tactless.  The 
object of criticism is not to crush the ego of the writer (and it isn't to
inflate it either).  It's is to point out flaws and areas for improvement.
Need we open our criticisms with statements like "remarkably bad piece of 
writing."  
			

  My only comment/question (which i emailed to the 
author, is whether or not 'bargain' in the third line should be 
'bargained.'



-satan

-- 
*******************************************************************************
* satan@wpi *Preacher or poet who was it wrote Give any one species too much 
*           *rope And they'll fuck it up.    - Roger Waters   
*******************************************************************************
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Yellow jackets 3
From: jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Date: 8 Jan 93 11:22:48 EST

Aiee! My monitor is in the repair shop.


			Many little gods


	Angles are here
	hanging in the air
	speaking in thin voices.

	Quiet
	be quiet
	be still and listen.

	Put your ear to the ground
	hear the sound of tramping.

	Close your eyes so you can see.
	The air moves with beating wings.

	They drop from clouds
	erupt from the ground
	spill over rocks.

	Their wings electric
	colors, gold and black
	bearing  swords sharp and full of poision.


Jean Ann Bolliger
August 1991
3 down, 4 to go.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,rec.humor