The Poetry Underground
Welcome to the Poetry Underground
My friend Jason now manages the Poetry Underground, located at http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Delphi/4731/.
I unfortunately do not have the time to respond to questions about poetry. Sorry!
The following are a selection of poems that were sent out on the Poetry Underground (when it was a mailing list) the last few years:
From: jarubick (Jade Rubick)
Subject: Indigo Girls - Ghost
Date: Sat, 1 Oct 94 22:17:10 PST
Ghost
-----
there's a letter on the desktop that i dug out
of a drawer the last truce we ever came to
from our adolescent war and i start to feel a fever
from the warm air through the screen you come
regular like seasons shadowing my dreams and the
mississippi's mighty but it starts in minnesota at a
place where you could walk across with five steps
down and i guess that's how you started like a
pinprick to my heart but at this point you rush
right through me and i start to drown and there's
not enough room in this world for my pain signals
cross and love gets lost and time passed makes it
plain of all my demon spirits i need you the most
i'm in love with your ghost i'm in love with your
ghost dark and dangerous like a secret that gets
whispered in a hush (don't tell a soul) when i wake
the things i dreamt about you last night make me
blush (don't tell a soul) when you kiss me like a
lover then you sting me like a viper i go follow to
the river play your memory like the piper and i feel
it like a sickness how this love is killing me but i'd
walk into the fingers of your fire willingly and
dance the edge of sanity i've never been this close
in love with your ghost ooooh... unknowing
captor you'll never know how much you pierce my
spirit but i can't touch you can you hear it a cry to
be free or i'm forever under lock and key as you
pass through me now i see your face before me i
would launch a thousand ships to bring your heart
back to my island as the sand beneath me slips as i
burn up in your presence and i know now how it
feels to be weakened like achilles with you always
at my heels and my bitter pill to swallow is the
silence that i keep that poisons me i can't swim free
the river is too deep though i'm baptized by your
touch i am no worse at most in love with your
ghost
words and music: emily saliers
Indigo Girls
From: Jade Rubick
Subject: Poetry i
Date: 2 Jun 92 21:21:38
The Origins of Stars and the Moon
Tree Branches wanted to pierce through the sky,
But only managed to poke a few small holes.
Lights from outer space filetered in,
And people called them the moon and the stars.
Gu Cheng
Quoted in Qishi niandai (The Seventies, Hong Kong), no. 12 (1982)
Subject: Poetry ii
Date: 4 Jun 92 00:27:51 PST
Bei Dao
The Artist's Life
go and buy a radish
-- mother said
hey, mind the safety line
-- the policeman said
where are you, o ocean
-- the drunkard said
why have all the street lights exploded
-- I said
a blind man passing by
nimbly raised his cane
like pulling out an antenna
an ambulance arriving with a screech
took me to the hospital
then I became a model patient
sneezing loud and clear
closing my eyes to figure out the mealtimes
donating a series of blood transfusions to bedbugs
with no time to sigh
in the end I was taken on as a doctor too
holding a thick hypodermic
I pace up and down in the corridor
to while away the evenings
Subject: Poetry iv
Date: 5 Jun 92 01:35:36
This is by Steven Crane
I Saw a Man Pursuing the Horizon (1895)
---------------------------------------
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never--"
"You lie," he cried,
And ran on.
Subject: Poetry v
Date: 5 Jun 92 01:37:17
More Steven Crane
A Man Said to the Universe (1899)
---------------------------------
A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."
Subject: poetry xvii
Date: 6 Oct 92 22:00:15
On Leaving His Wife
from Manyoshu
The thick sea-pine
Grows on the rocks
In the sea of Iwami
Off the cape of Kara.
The sea tangle clings
To the rocky beach.
Like the sea tangle
She bent and clung to me,
My wife, my love, deep
As the deep sea-pine
Was my love for her
Yet the nights are few
When we have slept together.
Creeping ivy parts
And we have parted too.
My heart aches when I think
Of her, but when I look
Back, the yellow leaves
Of the mountain flutter and hide
Her distant waving sleeve.
And the moon through a wide rift
Peeps, then hides in the clouds
My wife is hidden, and I
Grieve. The sun is low
And I, a strong man --
Or so I thought -- make wet
My heavy sleeve with tears.
My glossy steed goes fast
And far as the clouds I've come
From my wife, from my home.
You yellow leaves that cover
The autumn mountain, cease
Your falling for a while
For I would see my love.
From: Sanda Lay Chao
Date: Thu, 8 Oct 92 13:49:27 EDT
Subject: beatniks! and more...
they road not taken by robert frost
two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
and sorry i could not travel both
and be one traveler, long i stood
and looked down one as far as i could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;
then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim,
because it was grassy and wanted wear;
though as for that the passing there
had worn them really about the same,
and both that morning equally lay
in leaves no step had trodden black.
oh, i kept the first for another day!
yet knowing how way leads on to way,
i doubted if i should ever come back.
i shall be telling this with a sigh
somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and i-
i took the one less traveled by,
and that has made all the difference.
Subject: Poetry xix
Date: 14 Oct 92 16:32:49
More Robert Browning:
My Star
-------
All that I know
Of a certain star
Is, it can throw
(Like the angled spar) spar=mineral which acts
Now a dart of red like a prism
Now a dart of blue;
Till my friends have said
They would fain see, too, fain=to wish; to desire
My star that dartles the red and the blue!
Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:
They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.
What matter to me if their star is a world?
Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.
------
We studied this in high school. One interpretation is that it was written
for his wife. It's a little difficult to understand, I guess, but very
pretty. :)
Date: Sun, 18 Oct 1992 12:11:26 -0400
From: Sanda Lay Chao
Subject: poem underground
all by Shel Silverstein
INVITATION
If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a lier,
A hop-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!
jade, this what yr. description of oregon reminded me of:
WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black,
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewald ends.
ARROWS
I shot an arrow toward the sky,
It hit a white cloud floating by.
The clould fell dying to the shore,
I don't shoot arrows anymore.
___
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--For Let
Date: 29 Apr 92 12:49:48 GMT
Sender: uucp@mdf.FidoNet.Org
It wasn't that I missed you,
but that you were absent from yourself,
vacant
blank
unoccupied,
like a newly empty apartment
now
embracing
no one.
* Origin: The Red Wheelbarrow-A clean, well-blighted place (1:382/46.0)
William Butler Yeats
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
----------------------------------
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross *
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
------------
Major Robert Gregory, son of Yeat's friend and patroness Lady Augusta
Gregory, was killed in action in 1918. Apparently this is about him.
* Kiltartan is an Irish village near Coole Park, the estate of the Gregorys.
Robert Browning
Meeting at Night
The gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap on the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
Subject: (Forwarded) Poetry xiv
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
Sonnet 43
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my los saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
[Translated from Portuguese]
Subject: Poetry xiii
Roethke:
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them...
Shakespeare:
Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, (Ownest)
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,`When in eternal lines to
time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Subject: Poetry xx
Date: 14 Oct 92 16:36:22
Emily Dickenson
#435
Much Madness is divinest Sense--
To a discerning Eye--
Much Sense--the starkest Madness--
'Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail--
Assent--and you are sane--
Demur--you're straightway dangerous--
And handled with a Chain--
Subject: Poetry xxiii
Date: 25 Oct 92 23:06:05
Selections from _One Hundred Poems from the Japanese_ by Kenneth Roxroth.
(Very good book!)
IV - Akahito
------------
On Fujiyama
Under the midsummer moon
The snow melts, and falls
Again the same night.
Fuji no ne ni
Furi okeru yuki wa
Mina tzuki no
Mochi ni kenureba
Sono yo furi keri
IX - Anonymous
--------------
The purity of the moonlight,
Falling out of the immense sky,
Is so great that it freezes
The water touched by its rays.
Oo zora no
Tsuki no hikari shi
Kiyokereba
Kage mishi mizu zo
Mazu koori keru
XI - Bunya no Asayasu
---------------------
In a gust of wind the white dew
On the Autumn grass
Scatters like a broken necklace.
Shira tsuyu ni
Kaze no fukishiku
Aki no no wa
Tsuranuki Tomenu
Tama zo chirikeru
XII - Fujiwara no Atsutada
--------------------------
I think of the days
Before I met her
When I seemed to have
No troubles at all.
Ai mite no
Nochi no kokoro ni
Kurabureba
Mukashi wa mono wo
Omowazarikeri
Subject: Poetry xxiv - Japanese Poetry Part 2
Date: 26 Oct 92 15:09:49
XXIV - Hitomaro
---------------
When I left my girl
In her grave on Mount Hikite
And walked down the mountain path,
i felt as though I were dead,
Fusuma ji wo
Hikite no yama ni
Imo wo okite
Yama ji wo yukeba
Ikeri to mo nashi
XXXVI - Taira no Kanemori
-------------------------
Although I hide it
My love shows in my face
So plainly that he asks me,
"Are you thinking of something?"
Shinoburedo
Iro ni ide ni keri
Waga koi wa
Mono ya omou to
Hito no tou made
XLI - Fujiwara no Kiyosuke
--------------------------
I may live on until
I long for this time
In which I am so unhappy,
And remember it fondly.
Nagaraeba
Mata kono goro ya
Shinobaremu
ushi to mishi yo zo
Ima wa koishiki
Subject: Poetry xxv - Japanese Poetry part 3
Date: 26 Oct 92 15:15:17
XLVIII - The Mother of the Commander Michitsuna
-----------------------------------------------
Have you any idea
How long a night can last, spent
Lying alone and sobbing?
Nageki tsutsu
Hitori nuru yo no
Akura ma wa
Ika ni hisashiki
Mono to ka wa shiru
LI - Fujiwara no Mototoshi
--------------------------
Your fine promises
Were like the dew of life
To a parched plant,
But now the autumn
Of another year goes by.
Chigiri okishi
Sasemo ga tsuyu wo
Inochi nite
Aware kotoshi no
Aki mo inumeri
LVI - Narihira
--------------
I have always know
That at last I would
Take this road, but yesterday
i did not know that it would be today.
Tsui ni yuku
Michi to wa kanete
Kikishi kado
Kinoo kyoo to wa
Omowazarishi wo
Subject: Poetry xxviii - Japanese Poetry cont'd
Date: 3 Nov 92 23:49:44
Poetry XCV - Yakamochi
----------------------
Mist floats on the Spring meadow.
My heart is lonely.
A nightingale sings in the dusk.
Haru no nu ni
Kasumi tanabiki
Ura ganashi
Kono yuu kage ni
Uguisu naku mo
Subject: Poetry - depressed (Monday)
Date: 4 Nov 92 00:05:17
I was feeling a little depressed today, so I wrote a little mini-poem as I
walked home for lunch.
-------------------------------
though it sits warm in the sky,
the sun's light cannot find me.
-------------------------------
the heat of the sun,
so warm i sweat.
my heart so heavy weights
i shiver.
-------------------------------
it is a very warm day
why do I feel so cold inside?
-------------------------------
I forgot the original, but it sounded like that. I was thinking, what would
happen to my shadow, then, if the sun didn't hit me? :)
I'm feeling much better now, so don't worry about me. I hope this doesn't
depress you! I'm actually very happy now, because the class I was worrying
about all day is over.
Kathy translated my original poem into Japanese.
Taiyou no hikari ga boku no tokoro ni dake tette inai,
Soto wa konna ni hare te irunoni........
From: Akiko Yamaguchi
Subject: Keisuke Kuwata #2
ONE DAY
ame ga kokoro ni oto o tateru
yami o makura ni koyoi oh poor boy
So c'mon, one day I found you
Tonight I miss you
nami no shirabe ni kimi mo yureru
minami no kaze wa ore ni doo yuu no?
Oh woman, one day I found you
Tonight I miss you
yume miru yoo na me no Lady
kotoba ni naranu hodo ni
ikenai koe ni dakarete nemuru
ano hibi yo So-long
naki nureta mama nagisa ni mau
natsu ni owakare koyoi Oh poor boy
So c'mon, one day I found you
Tonight I miss you
yoku aru namida no story
midareta yoru no hate ni
omoide bakari kokoro ni nokoru
wasureji no My love
One day I found you
Tonight I miss you
One day I found you
Tonight I miss you
One day......
ONE DAY
the rain beat against my heart
darkness is my pillow tonight oh poor boy
so c'mon, one day i found you
tonight i miss you
you're trembling with a tune of waves
what's the south wind's telling me?
oh woman, one day i found you
tonight i miss you
lady with the dreamy eyes
(she's) beyond words
(i used to ) sleep in the arms of naughty voice
(but i must say) so long to those days
bathed in tears, i dance on the beach
it's a farewell to the summer tonight oh poor boy
so c'mon, one day i found you
tonight i miss you
it's a common pathetic story
after all the loose nights,
only the memories remained in my heart
(it's) my unforgettable love
one day i found you
tonight i miss you
one day i found you
tonight i miss you
one day......
Subject: Poetry xxix - Japanese Poetry Cont'd
Date: 5 Nov 92 00:40:23
XCVIII - Yakamochi
------------------
We were together
Only a little while,
And we believed our love
Would last a thousand years.
Kaku shi nomi
Arikeru mono wo
Imo mo ware mo
Chi tose no gotoku
Tanomitarikeru
From: Kathy Johnson
Subject: Poetry xxviii - Japanese Poetry cont'd
Date: 4 Nov 92 17:24:13
This poem really inspired me to write my own "wa ka" (Style of J. Poetry)
Poetry XCV - Yakamochi
----------------------
Mist floats on the Spring meadow.
My heart is lonely.
A nightingale sings in the dusk.
Haru no nu ni
Kasumi tanabiki
Ura ganashi
Kono yuu kage ni
Uguisu naku mo
-----------------------
So, here it goes! An original poem par moi! No, I am not fooling around.
It took less than 3 minutes to come up with the poem and the translation.
Oh Wendy, "Waka" means "Japanese songs" and the first line must contain 5
syllables, the second line 7, the third 5, and the fourth and fifth must
have seven syllables. So, it's really easy when you are in the right mood.
Jade, this is my version of the Deppressive poem of yours.
kou hii no Kou hii:coffee
ue ni ukanda kabi: mold
kabi o mi te
toki no hayasa ni
futo kigatsuita futo:suddenly
Translation:
I looked at my coffee
There was a mold floating on the surface
This suddenly made me realize that time does fly by......
Hidden meaning of this poem:
AHHHHHH I'm running out of time!!! I have to finish my history paper by
tomorrow. NOOOOOOOOOOO I need more time!!!!
.......to be continued eventually
Jade, Wendy, Akiko-san : "OH NO!!"
Your deranged frind.
Kathy
P.S. Akiko-san, kono "waka" nakanaka lomanchick desho? E? Chigau tte?
UUUUN, mou shududai ga alisugite shinisooooo.
From: Akiko Yamaguchi
Subject: Keisuke Kuwata #1
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Jade kun e,
Thank you for always sending me poems. This song is from Keisuke
Kuwata ( the vocalist of the Southern All Stars ) 's solo album. I think it
matches the season.
Yume no Mayoi Michi ---The Wandering Street---
yume demo otozureru machi
kokoro no katasumi ni omou bakari
kawaita toki no nagare ni tsure
kawari yuku hitonami
ima demo wasurarenu hibi
amakute shibireru yona koi mo shita
wakareta eki ni oritatsu tabi
furikaeru machikado
hitomi no oku ni minareta kao ga
ukande kieru aki nanoni
anokoro niwa modore nai
oh, oh, the wondering street
oh, oh, just never to me
yume no oh, oh, mayoi michi
the time has gone
itsumademo kokoro ni
tomodachi dake de saigo no yoru ni
mata au koto o shinjite mo
ano basho niwa kaere nai
oh, oh, the wondering street
oh, oh, just never to me
koyoi oh, oh, tadoru michi
we're all alone
sayonara mo iwazu ni
oh, oh, i'll never forget
A very poor quality translation is available here. Yes, it's by me. Please
let me know anything which doesn't make sense. Please help me to fix it.
The Wandering Street
it's the town i visit even in my dreams
all i've been able to do is simply to recall it in the background of my mind
as the dry time passes,
a surging(milling?)crowd(of people)changes
those are the days i can't forget even now
i even was in sweet, entrancing love
everytime i alight at the station which we had parted,
i look back on that street corner
although it's autumn which brings all those familiar faces recur in and
disappear in the back of my eyes,
i can't return to those days ever again
oh, oh, the wondering street
oh, oh, just never to me
it's the oh, oh, wondering street in my dream
the time has gone
it'll stay in my heart forever
among the friends on the final night,
although we had believed in meeting again,
we can't go back to that place ever again
oh, oh, the wondering street
oh, oh, just never to me
tonight oh, oh, i trace the street(alone)
(since)we're all alone
even without saying good-bye
oh, oh, i'll never forget
Subject: Poetry xxxi - Japanese Poetry
Date: 18 Nov 92 16:13:34
Prince Munenaga
---------------
The pain is greater now--
at least while we were living
in the same capital
the only thing between us
was the wall of her hard heart.
Ima zo uki
onaji miyako no
uchi nite wa
kokoro bakari no
hedate narishi o
Subject: Poetry xxx - Japanese Poetry
Date: 18 Nov 92 16:09:43
Reizei Tamehide - "Lightning"
-----------------------------
The lightning struck
and even in the brief flash
of its short-lived light
I could count the dewdrops
on the leaves of the grass.
Nihongo
-------
Inazuma no
Shibashi mo tomenu
Hikari ni mo
Kusaba no tsuyu no
Hazu wa miekeri
Subject: Poetry xxxii - Japanese Poetry
Date: 18 Nov 92 16:18:01
This is from the Manyoshu
192.
Like the birds that cry
on Sata's hillside
illumined by the rising sun,
I have cried each evening of this year.
Subject: Poetry xxxiii - Japanese Poetry
Date: 30 Nov 92 00:08:30
Basho
-----
It looks as if
Iris flowers had bloomed
On my feet --
Sandals laced in blue.
Breaking the silence
Of an ancient pond,
A frog jumped into water --
A deep resonance.
Furu ike ya
Kawazu tobikomu
Mizu no oto
Even the woodpeckers
have left it untouched,
This tiny cottage
In a summer grove.
From the Manyoshu
-----------------
Til dawn unsleeping
I shall wait for you,
though my pitch-black hair
be covered with the dew.
From: Chris Toergersen
Subject: Inspiration!
Date: 4 Dec 92 00:43:38
Enjoy, my friends, this wonderful piece of romantic poetry, and be inspired!
The Chambered Nautilus
by Oliver Wendell Holmes
This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,
Sails the unshadowed main,--
The venturous bark that flings
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings
In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings,
And coral reefs lie bare,
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;
Wrecked is the ship of pearl!
And every chambered cell,
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,
Before thee lies revealed,--
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!
Year after year beheld the silent toil
That spread his lustrous coil;
Still, as the spiral grew,
He left the past year's dwelling for the new,
Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
Built up its idle door,
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no
more.
Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
Child of the wandering sea,
Cast from her lap, forlorn!
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!
While on mine ear it rings,
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that
sings:--
Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
Subject: Poetry xxxiv - Chinese Poetry
Date: 3 Dec 92 23:29:31
Beast-like clouds eat the setting sun,
the bow-like moon shoots falling stars.
-- from Six Records of a Floating Life
From: HONORS/CHTORGERSEN
Date: 28 Oct 92 13:46:40
Spring Flowers
A patch of color amidst the green,
Alas can be but briefly seen.
Is this fleeting radience much the less,
That fragrant blossoms must regress?
Ah! 'Tis rareness here that precious makes,
When Summer's breath Spring life does take. ___
Subject: Poetry xxvi - Japanese poetry part 4 or so
Date: 27 Oct 92 16:35:10
LX - The Monk Ryoozen
---------------------
When I am lonely
And go for a walk, I see
Everywhere the same
Autumnal dusk.
Sabishisa ni
Yado wo tachi ide
Nagamureba
Izuku mo onaji
Aki no yuugure
LXIII - Lady Ootomo no Sakanoe
------------------------------
You say, "I will come."
And you do not come.
Now you say, "I will not come."
So I shall expect you.
Have I learned to understand you?
Komo to yuu mo
Konu toki aru wo
Koji to yuu wo
Komu to wa mataji
Koji to yuu mono wo
Subject: Rossetti 4 (yes it's over)
Date: 17 Dec 92 22:34:51
this is the last few verses of The Blessed Damozel. Sorry it's so long.
(Alas! we two, we two, thou say'st!
Yea, one wast thou with me
That once of old. But shall God lift
To endless unity
The soul whose likeness with thy soul
Was but its love for thee?)
"We two," she said, "will seek the groves
Where the lady Mary is,
With her five handmaidens, whose names
Are five sweet symphonies,
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
Margaret and Rosalys.
"Circlewise sit they, with bound locks
And foreheads garlanded;
Into the fine cloth white like flame
Weaving the golden thread,
To fashion the birth-robes for them
Who are just born, being dead.
"He shall fear, haply, and be dumb:
Then will I lay my cheek
To his, and tell about our love,
Not once abashed or weak:
And the dear Mother will approve
My pride, and let me speak.
"Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,
To HIm round whom all souls
Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads
Bowed with their aureoles:
And angels meeting us shall sing
To their citherns and citoles.
"There will I ask of Christ the Lord
This much for him and me:-
Only to live as once on earth
With Love,- only to be,
As then awhile, for ever now
Together, I and he."
She gazed and listened and then said,
Less sad of speech than mild,-
"All this is when he comes." Sh ceased.
The light thrilled towards her, fill'd
With angels in strong level flight.
Her eyes prayed, and she smil'd.
(I saw her smile.) But soon their path
Was vague in distant spheres:
And then she cast her arms along
The golden barriers,
And laid her face between her hands,
And wept. (I heard her tears.)
--------------------------
Wendy Price
weprice@honors.uoregon.edu
--------------------------
Flying binoculars, why not?
From: CHEUNG@uoneuro.uoregon.edu
Date: 4 Dec 92 17:30:51 PDT
Subject: Poetry form the "anti-verbose" man
I don't know the name of the poet but this poetry is incredibly
beautiful. I will elaborate on that later. So here it is:
"Sea Fever"
I must go down to the seas again
to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship
and a star to steer her by.
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song
and the white sail's shaking.
And a grey mist on the sea's face,
and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again
for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call,
that may not be denied
And all I ask is a windy day
with the white cloud's flying
And the flung spray and the blown spume
and the sea gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again
to the vagrant gypsy life
to the gull's wag and the whale's way,
where the wind's like a whetted knife.
And all I ask is a merry yarn
from a laughung fellow rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream
when the long trick's over.
-?-
I think Dennis Miller recited part of this poetry in a Miller Lite
commercial, with a tall ship in the background. I consider that an
inappropriate use of the poem, but then we live in a capitalistic
country, so what can I say. The great part about this poetry is that
it was also written into a song, and the piano accompaniment is
outrageously beautiful. The chord progressions are nicely tailored
to the poetry itself. Together with a unique rhythm (most words are
grouped under a triplet) they give the song a sense of spaciousness,
and a haunting loneliness at points (you have to listen to it to
know what I am saying). I wish I can send the music through email
(hey you engineers out there, something for you to think about) so
you can experience the perfect blend of music and words. Oh well
make up your own melody if you wish. Request of a copy of the score
or a live performance is welcomed. Will c what I can do.
Clement
From: Wendy Price
Subject: Rossetti
Date: 16 Dec 92 16:19:24
i finally found something interesting to send to you guys. this is part of
a poem that was written by my favourite painter. it is fairly long so i will
only send the first four verses rather than all twenty six. throughout
Rossetti's work Dante's Beatrice reoccurs and becomes sort of an obsession
for him. i hope you like it i think it's kind of pretty. there is also a
painting that Rossetti did with the same title. it's really pretty also
The Blessed Damozel
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
The blessed damozel leaned out
From the gold bar of Heaven;
Her eyes were deeper than the depth
Of waters stilled at even;
She had three lilies in her hand,
And the stars in her hair were seven.
Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,
No wrought flowers did adorn,
But a white rose of Mary's gift,
For service meetly worn;
Her hair that lay along her back
Was yellow, like ripe corn.
Herseemed she scarce had been a day
One of God's choristers;
The wonder was not yet quite gone
From that still look of hers;
Albeit, to them she left, her day
Had counted as ten years.
(To one, it is ten years of years.
...Yet now, and in this place,
Surely she leaned o'er me-her hair
Fell all about my face...
Nothing: the autumn fall of leaves.
The whole year sets apace.)
From: Wendy Price
Subject: Rossetti part 2
Date: 17 Dec 92 22:01:31
here are the next several lines to The Blessed Damozel.
It was the rampart of God's house
That she was standing on;
By God built over the sheer depth
The which is Space begun;
So high, that looking downward thence
She could scarce see the sun.
It lies in Heaven, across the flood
Of ether, as a bridge.
Beneath, the tides of day and night
With flame and darkness ridge
The void, as low as where this earth
Spins like a fretful midge.
Around her, lovers, newly met
'Mid deathless love's acclaims,
Spoke evermore among themselves
Their heart-remembered names;
And the souls mounting up to God
Went by her like thin flames.
And still she bowed herself and stooped
Out of the circling charm;
Until her bosom must have made
The bar she leaned on warm,
And the lillies lay as if asleep
Along her bended arm.
>From the fixed place of Heaven she saw
Time like a pulse shake fierce
Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove
Within the gulf to pierce
It's path; and now she spoke as when
The stars sang in their spheres.
--------------------------
Wendy Price
weprice@honors.uoregon.edu
--------------------------
Flying binoculars, why not?
From: Wendy Price
Subject: Rossetti part 3
Date: 17 Dec 92 22:17:58
The sun was gone now; the curled moon
Was like a little feather
Fluttering far down the gulf; and now
She spoke through the still weather.
Her voice was like the voice the stars
Had when they sang together.
(Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song,
Strove not her accents there;
Fain to be hearkened? When those bells
Possessed the mid-day air,
Strove not her steps to reach my side
Down all the echoing stair?)
"I wish that he were come to me,
For he will come," she said.
"Have I not prayed in Heaven?-on earth,
Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd?
Are not two prayers a perfect strength?
And shall I feel afraid?
"When round his head the aureole clings,
And he is clothed in white,
I'll take his hand and go with him
To the deep wells of light;
As unto a stream we will step down,
And bathe there in God's sight.
"We two will stand beside that shrine,
Occult, withheld, untrod,
Whose lamps are stirred continually
With prayer sent up to God;
And see our old prayers, granted, melt
Each like a little cloud.
"We two will lie i' the shadow of
That living mystic tree
Within whose secret growth the Dove
Is sometimes felt to be,
While every leaf that His plumes touch
Saith His Name audibly.
"And I myself will teach to him,
I myself, lying so,
The songs I sing here; which his voice
Shall pause in, hushed and slow,
And find some knowledge at each pause,
Or some new thing to know."
--------------------------
Wendy Price
weprice@honors.uoregon.edu
--------------------------
Flying binoculars, why not?
Date: Tue, 5 Jan 93 11:41:58
From: kevint@013bwc.org (Kevin Trotter)
Subject: killing time
whaddya say, just killing time?
voices in me, try to ease me
whaddya say, sulking in daylight?
reason filled with malice
whaddya say, pretending polite?
going nowhere, fighting softly
whaddya say, the end of rhyme?
-- KEVIN TROTTER
Date: 23 Dec 1992 00:38:58 -0800 (PST)
From: David Ni
Subject: Li Bai's poem, II
Ferry the river I yearn to,
but the wind and wave broke my sail;
Hauls my heart this river,
It floats five thousand miles...
--Li Bai
David
From: Wendy Price
Date: 7 Jan 93 19:19:49 PST
Subject: THE SCHOOL OF POETRY
I FOUND THIS GREAT LITTLE BOOK OF POETRY AT A RARE BOOKSTORE.
I'M NOT SURE HOW OLD IT IS BUT THE PICTURES ARE KIND OF SIXTYISH.
IT'S CUTE AND SOME ONE EVEN HAND WROTE A POEM IN IT THAT I AM STILL
TRYING TO DECIFER.
------------------------------
THE LAND OF DREAMS
AWAKE, AWAKE, MY LITTLE BOY!
THOU WAST THY MOTHER'S ONLY
JOY.
WHY DOST THOU WEEP IN THY
GENTLE SLEEP?
AWAKE, THY FATHER DOES THEE
KEEP.
"O, WHAT LAND IS THE LAND
OF DREAMS,
WHAT ARE ITS MOUNTAINS AND
WHAT ARE ITS STREAMS?
O FATHER, I SAW MY MOTHER
THERE,
AMONG THE LILIES BY WATER
FAIR.
"AMONG THE LAMBS CLOTHED IN
WHITE,
SHE WALKED WITH HER THOMAS
IN SWEET DELIGHT;
I WEPT FOR JOY, LIKE A DOVE I
MOURN,
O, WHEN SHALL I AGAIN RETURN?"
DEAR CHILD, I ALSO BY PLEASANT
STREAMS
HAVE WANDERED ALL NIGHT IN THE
LAND OF DREAMS,
BUT THOUGH CALM AND WARM THE
WATERS WIDE,
I COULD NOT GET TO THE OTHER
SIDE.
"FATHER, O FATHER! WHAT DO
WE HERE,
IN THIS LAND OF UNBELIEF AND
FEAR?
THE LAND OF DREAMS IS BETTER
FAR
ABOVE THE LIGHT OF THE MORNING
STAR."
- WILLIAM BLAKE
--------------------------
Wendy Price
weprice@honors.uoregon.edu
--------------------------
Flying binoculars, why not?
From: Wendy Price
Date: 7 Jan 93 19:41:44 PST
Subject: GABRIEL
THIS IS A FRENCH COUPLET WRITTEN BY DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI. IT IS
ACCOMPANIED BY THE ENGLISH EQUIVALENCE AND SOMETHING CALLED AN
ITALIAN TRIPLET. ROSSETTI'S BROTHER SAYS THAT IT MAY "HAVE BEEN
WRITTEN TO SERVE AS A MOTTO FOR SOME PICTURE." I JUST LIKE THE SIMPLE
IMAGERY.
----------------------------
ROBE D'OR, MAIS RIEN NE VEUT
QU'UNE ROSE A SES CHEVEUX
WITH GOLDEN MANTLE, RINGS, AND NECKLACE FAIR,
IT LIKES HER BEST TO WEAR
ONLY A ROSE WITHIN HER GOLDEN HAIR.
A GOLDEN ROBE, YET WILL SHE WEAR
ONLY A ROSE IN HER GOLDEN HAIR.
--------------------------
Wendy Price
weprice@honors.uoregon.edu
--------------------------
Flying binoculars, why not?
From: Wendy Price
Date: 7 Jan 93 19:29:09 PST
Subject: THE YEAR'S ROUND
JUST ANOTHER POEM FROM THE SCHOOL OF POETRY. DON'T WORRY I'LL
EVENTUALLY GET BORED WITH THIS AND QUIT PESTERING YOU.
------------------------------
THE YEAR'S ROUND
THE CROCUS, WHILE THE DAYS ARE
DARK,
UNFOLDS ITS SAFFRON SHEEN;
AT APRIL'S TOUCH THE CRUDEST
BARK
DISCOVERS GEMS OF GREEN.
THEN SLEEP THE SEASONS, FULL OF
NIGHT,
WHILE SLOWLY SWELLS THE POD
AND ROUNDS THE PEACH, AND IN
THE NIGHT
THE MUSHROOM BURSTS THE
SOD.
THE WINTER FALLS, THE FROZEN
RUT
IS BOUND WITH SILVER BARS;
THE SNOWDRIFT HEAPS AGAINST
THE HUT,
AND NIGHT IS PIERCED WITH
STARS.
- COVENTRY PATMORE
--------------------------
Wendy Price
weprice@honors.uoregon.edu
--------------------------
Flying binoculars, why not?
Date: 04 Dec 1992 00:56:37 -0800 (PST)
From: David Ni
Subject: Li Bai's poem
I cut the water with my sword but the water runs faster,
I raise my glass to disperse the cloud but the cloud gets darker.
--Li Bai
David
From: Wendy Price
Date: 17 Jan 93 19:07:13 PST
Subject: the soul's sphere
yes, another rossetti sonnet. if you are tired of them please tell me
and i will quit sending them. or will look for something different to
send.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=
the soul's sphere
Some prisoned moon in steep cloud-fastnesses,-
Throned queen and thralled; some dying sun whose
pyre
Blazed with momentous memorable fire;-
Who hath not yearned and fed his heart with these?
Who, sleepless, hath not anguished to appease
Tragical shadow's realm of sound and sight
Conjectured in the lamentable night?.....
Lo! the soul's sphere of infinite images!
What sense shall count them? Whether it forecast
The rose-winged hours that flutter in the van
Of Love's unquestioning unrevealed span,-
Visions of golden futures: or that last
Wild pageant of the accumulated past
That clangs and flashes for a drowning man.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
wendy price
I shut myself in with my soul,
And the shapes come eddying forth. DGR
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Forwarded message:
To: kajohnson, sleong@oregon.uoregon.edu., jarubick
From: Wendy Price
Date: 17 Jan 93 19:16:44 PST
Subject: the daffodils
I wandered lonely as a c;pid
That floats on high o'er vales
and hills,
When all at once i saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the
trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the
breeze.
Continuous as the stars that
shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending
line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw i at a
glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly
dance.
The waves beside them danced;
but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in
glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed- and gazed- but little
thought
What wealth the show to me
had brought:
For oft, when on my couch i
lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward
eye
Which is the bliss of solitude:
And then my heart with pleas-
ure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
william wordsworth
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
wendy price
I shut myself in with my soul,
And the shapes come eddying forth. DGR
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Forwarded message:
From: Self
To: jarubick
Subject: The Sad Geraniums
Date: 27 Jan 93 02:31:35
Als sie sich kennenlernten, war es dunkel gewesen. Dann hatte sie ihn
eingeladen und nun war er da. Sie hatte ihm ihre Wohnung gezeigt und die
Tischtcher und die Bettbezge und auch die Teller und Gabeln, die sie hatte.
Aber als sie sich dann zum ersten Mal bei hellem Tageslicht gegenbersaBen,
da sah er ihre Nase.
Die Nase sieht aus, als ob sie angenht ist, dachte er. Und sie sieht
berhaupt nicht wie andere Nasen aus. Mehr wie eine Gartenfrucht. Um
Himmelswillen! dachte er, und diese Nasenlcher! Die sind ja vollkommen
unsymmetrisch angeordnet. Die sind ja ohne jede Harmonie zueinander. Das
eine ist eng und oval. Aber das andere ghnt geradazu wie ein Abgrund.
Dunkel und rund und unergrndlich. Er griff nach seinem Taschentuch und
tupfte sich die Stirn.
"Es ist so warm, nicht wahr?" begann sie.
"Oh ja", sagte er und sah auf ihre Nase. Sie muB angenht sein, dachte er
wieder. Sie kommt sich so fremd vor im gesicht. Und sie hat eine ganz
andere Tnung als die brige Haut. Viel intensiver. Und die Nasenlcher
sind wirklich ohne Harmonie. Oder von einer ganz neuartigen Harmonie, fiel
ihm ein, wie bei Picasso.
"Ja", fing er wieder an, "meinen Sie nicht auch , daB Picasso auf dem
richtigen Wege ist?"
"Wer denn?" fragte sie "Pi-ca-?"
"Na, denn nicht", seufzte er und sagte dann pltzlich ohne Hand auf das knie und er fhlte ihre
entsetzlich innigen Augen bis an dem Hinterkopf glhen.
"ich bin doch auch durchaus fr die Ehe, fr das Zusammenleben", meinte
sie leise und etwas verrschmt.
"Wegen der Symmetrie?" entfuhr es ihm.
"Harmonie", verbesserte sie ihn gtig, "wegen der Harmonie."
"Natrlich", sagte er, "wegen der Harmonie."
Er stand auf.
"Oh, Sie gehen?"
"Ja, ich-ja."
Sie bracht ihn zur Tr.
"Innerlich bin ich eben doch sehr viel anders", fing sie noch mal wieder
an.
Ach was, dachte er, deine Nase ist eine Zumutung.
Eine angenhte Zumutlung. Und er sagte laut: "Innerlich sind Sie wie die
Geranien, wollen Sie sagen. Ganz symmetrisch, nicht wahr?"
Dann ging er die Treppe hinunter, ohne sich umzusehen.
sie stand am Fenster und sah ihm nach.
Da sah sie, wie er unten stehenblieb und sich mit den Taschentuch die
Stirn abtrupfte. Einmal, zweimal. Und dann noch einmal. Aber sie sah
nicht daB er dabei erleichtert grinste. Das sah sie nicht, weil ihre Augen
unter Wasser standen. Und die Geranien, die waren ganau so traurig.
Jedenfalls rochen sie so.
Die traurigen Geranien
bei Wolfgang Borchert
Forwarded message:
To: jarubick
From: Kathy
Date: 26 Jan 93 21:23:15 PST
Subject: (Forwarded) Daniel's translation of the SAD GER
Forwarded message:
To: mimarkum, gene, trnguyen, jacervantes, jehelmick, jasono@oregon, damadden, FROGHAM@JHUVMS.HCF.JHU.EDU,
From: Jeido Rubikku
Date: 26 Jan 93 21:20:16 PST
Subject: Daniel's translation of the SAD GERANIUM
Translated from the original German, by Daniel Sayer, our friend who is on
his way to Czechoslovakia!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Sad Geranium
by Wolfgang Borchert
When they meet it was dark. She had invited him then and now he was
there. She had showed him her apartment and the table-cloths and the bed
linnen and also the plates and the forks, that she had. But when they sat
face to face for the first time in bright daylight, he saw her nose.
The nose looked as if it were sewn on, he thought. And it did not look
at all like other noses. More like a garden fruit. For heaven's sake! he
thought, and the nostrils! They are arranged completely unsymetricly. They
are really without any harmony with one another. The first is tight and oval.
But the other downright yawns like an abyss. Dark and round and bottomless.
He reached for his handkerchief and dabbed his forehead.
"It's really warm, isn't it?" she began.
"Oh yes", he said and looked at her nose. It must be sewed on, he
thought again. It looks so foreign for her face. And it has a totally
different coloring than the rest of the skin. Really intense. And the
nostrils are really without harmony. Or a really novel harmony comes to mind,
like something by Picasso.
"Yes" he began again, "do you think Picasso is going in the right
direction?"
"Who?" she asked, Pi-ca-?"
"Well, forget it" he sighed and suddenly said without any transition:
"Were you in a accident once?"
"Why do you ask?" she asked.
"Well", he thought hopelessly.
"Oh, because of the nose?"
"Yes, because of it."
"No, it was this way from the beginning." She said that very patiently:
"It was always like that."
Good heavens! he had almost said. But he only said "Oh, really?"
"And yet I am an decidedly harmonious person", she whispered. "And how
I do love the symetry! See my two geraniums on the window-sill. Left stands
one and right stands one. Very symetrical. No, believe me, inside I am very
different. Very different."
With that she laid he hand on his knee and he felt her terribly intense
glowing eyes to the back of his head.
"I am still for the marriage, for living together", she thought softly
and some what bashfully.
"Because of the symetry?" escaped him.
"Harmony", she corrected him kindly, "because of the Harmony."
He stood up.
"Oh, are you going?"
"Yes, I - yes."
She brought him to the door.
"I am really very different inside", she began again.
Nonsense, he thought, your nose is imposition.
A sewed on imposition. And he said out loud: "Inside you are like the
geraniums, you would like to say. Very symetrical, right?"
Then he went down the stairs without looking back.
She stood at the window and watched after him.
There she saw him stop and dab his forehead with a hankerchief. Once,
twice. And another time. But she didn't see that he had a relieved grin.
She did not see that that because her eyes were filled with water. And the
geraniums were just as sad. At any rate they smelled so.
_
jade rubick I do not pray for a lighter load, but
jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu for a stronger back. - Phillip Brooks
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kathy Johnson | Example of nasalization:
kajohnson@honors.uoregon.edu | Pinch your nose and say "pain!"
| by prof. Delancy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Have a nice day!!!!!
Forwarded message:
To: jarubick, weprice
From: Kathy
Date: 17 Jan 93 16:26:10 PST
Subject: Linda Stitt #2
More poems!!
-----------------------------------------
Taxidermy (stuff this)
Most things I handle cooly
but somethings make me burn,
like the tax I'm taxed on stamps I buy
to mail my tax return.
-----------------------------------------
Seas Apart
I thought that somehow you might soothe me,
now I'm in a terrible fix,
I'm troubled much more than before you appeared.
It's clear that we never will mix.
You're just too much oil for my water.
With compromise out of my reach
and, finding that I cannot swallow you whole,
I must wash you back up on the beach.
Forgive me my lack of acceptance,
the choice I've no choice but to make.
I'm vast and I'm deep but there's only so much
that even the ocean can take.
------------------------------------------
People
People
we don't know
are killing
people
we don't know,
neglecting
people
we don't know
and hurting
people
we don't know
and
if we don't know
how suffering feels
to
people
we don't know,
we don't know
people.
-------------------------------------
by Linda Stitt
******************************************
* Kathryn Johnson, Slacker Extraordinare *
* kajohnson@honors.uoregon.edu *
******************************************
PICARD/RIKER 96!!!!
Forwarded message:
To: HONORS/JARUBICK
From: HONORS/AMTIMSHEL
Date: 24 Jan 93 14:20:41 PST
Subject: Poetry Underground
Jade,
Here's one I like, if you're interested. I don't remember the
title.
You darkness that I come from
I love you more than all the fires
That fence in the world.
For the fire makes a circle of
light for everyone
And then no one outside
Learns of you.
But the darkness pulls in everything,
Shapes, fires, animals
And myself.
How easily it gathers them,
Powers and people.
And it is possible
A great energy is moving
near me.
I have faith in Nights.
Ranier Maria Rilke
Forwarded message:
To: kajohnson, sgoodale@oregon.uoregon.edu., jarubick
From: Wendy Price
Date: 18 Jan 93 21:41:51 PST
Subject: Lullabye
this is not really a poem it is a song by concrete blonde. i think
it's pretty though.
lullabye
when the sky has fallen
like a blanket on your shoulder
and the moon is like a mother
looking over you forever
and the dawn is so familiar
you were meant to be together
like a fog around a mountain - forever
chorus:
so softly- so sweetly
surrounding you completely
sing you a lullabye- a lullabye to you
lullabye - a lullabye to you
when your breathing is the wind
and your crying is the rain
well i know you will remember
because the music is forever
the living of a lover-
and the loving of another
like a sister to a brother
like a father to a mother
chorus
j. napolitano
-----------------------------
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
wendy price
I shut myself in with my soul,
And the shapes come eddying forth. DGR
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Forwarded message:
Date: Sun, 7 Feb 93 23:15:04 PST
From: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: Invisible Out of Sight
--- Forwarded message follows ---
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Path: news.uoregon.edu!usenet.coe.montana.edu!rpi!usc!howland.reston.ans.net!ux1.cso.uiuc.edu!uchinews!quads!moh2
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: Invisible Out of Sight
Message-ID: <1993Feb5.234221.23235@midway.uchicago.edu>
Sender: news@uchinews.uchicago.edu (News System)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago
Date: Fri, 5 Feb 1993 23:42:21 GMT
Lines: 60
Invisible Out of Sight
She stumbled, crying, into his arms
crying silently, invisibly
but somehow he saw
and sheltered.
Forgive her?
Poetry blossomed, moons and junes
and the bright glistening
dew on crimson roses
true love.
Forgive her?
He left, with promises and tears
always more tears
and somehow
love faded.
Forgive her?
He steadfast, waiting for
the day when together
poetry and junes
would return
Forgive her?
Promises breaking, she found
others to blur the
lonely nights
and days.
Forgive her?
Betrayed, he renounced her
lovelost, friendship
frayed a cord so
thin, invisible.
Forgive her?
Heartsore, she stumbles
crying invisible
tears on a
frozen face.
Forgive me?
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
January 5, 1993
--
we're anything brighter than even the sun
we're anything greater than books might mean
(with a shout leap / alive! we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one. - e.e. cummings
___
Forwarded message:
Date: Tue, 9 Feb 93 12:44:09 PST
From: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: Poem-Hear me
--- Forwarded message follows ---
Path: news.uoregon.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!sgiblab!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!The-Star.honeywell.com!umn.edu!lynx.unm.edu!hydra.unm.edu!rkruger
From: rkruger@hydra.unm.edu (robert c krugerttr)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem-Hear me
Date: 9 Feb 1993 16:55:36 GMT
Organization: University of New Mexico, Albuquerque
Lines: 14
Message-ID: <1l8nm8INNr7n@lynx.unm.edu>
References: <1993Feb8.225822.13693@wixer.cactus.org>
NNTP-Posting-Host: hydra.unm.edu
Hear me
I hide behind my lies
afraid to talk
afraid of feeling
I just stand there
screaming behind my eyes
with my lips motionless
Antithesis
Dunno, just kinda came to mind and wrote itself. C&C welcome
___
Jade Rubick (o o)
-------------------------------------ooO-(_)-Ooo------------------------
jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu <-- try this first
jrubick@oregon.uoregon.edu <-- if it bounces try this
jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu <-- last resort
Forwarded message:
Date: 08 Feb 1993 22:59:44 -0800 (PST)
From: David Ni
Subject: Poem -- "Read"
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu, kajohnson@honors.uoregon.edu,
Here is a contemporary Chinese poem my roommate and I have just translated.
Entitled "Read," it was published in 1991 by a Chinese poet whom I have
never heard of. Because of the language nuances, it is difficult, and
sometimes even impossible, and perhaps, wrong to render poetry from one
language to another. Music and fine arts apparently have no such a
problem. Suggestions for improvement are welcome.
David
Read
Under the light,
I read another's lines
and read my own heart's rimes.
Discover--
on the wall my shadow
reads a lone tear that flows.
Or: Read
Under the light,
reading another's verses
I read my own heart's pulses.
Discover--
on the wall my shadow
reads a lone tear that
flows.
___
Forwarded message:
To: weprice, jarubick, sgoodale@oregon
From: Kathy
Date: 8 Feb 93 20:34:26 PST
Subject: Linda Stitt #3
CC:
More poems by Linda Stitt
-----------------------------------------
Cycling....
...bi, tri, and motor --
Life has its ups and downs
its go-around, come-around,
spin-around
in and out
changes.
- Cycles, cycles, cycles
spiralling
to wherever they take us
and almost back,
but not quite,
because cycles aren't circles,
and every old familiar
sunrise and sunset
finds us some new place
in this
expanding universe's space.
evolution, revolution, convolution, devolution
becoming, turning, twisting, mutating
Tomorrow will discover us
different from today
for every borrowed breath
mixes us roundly, soundly,
inexplicably, inextricably
into the cosmos,
adds and subtracts,
takes what we never had,
gives what we cannot own,
as we dissolve
and coalesce,
bipedalling the velocities
which speed us on
our helical hegiras
into transformation.
----------------------------------------
Busy, busy
Searching for freedom,
filled with desire,
ever creating the me;
seeking, selecting,
rejoicing, collecting,
too busy looking to see.
-----------------------------------------
by Linda Stitt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kathy Johnson | Example of nasalization:
kajohnson@honors.uoregon.edu | Pinch your nose and say "pain!"
| by prof. Delancy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Picard/Riker 96!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A "kind and profound" advice from moi: don't ever have mint patties
and diet coke for brunch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Forwarded message:
Date: 14 Jan 1993 23:44:02 -0800 (PST)
From: David Ni
Subject: Li Bai's poem, III ^
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
SORRY IT TAKES A WHILE TO RENDER THIS ANCIENT CHINESE STUFF INTO MODERN
ENGLISH.
I would wither,
like the autumn grass,
rooted together
Still; never would I depart,
like the leaf, forsake the flower,
adrift in the sky.
--Li Bai
David
___
Jade Rubick (o o)
-------------------------------------ooO-(_)-Ooo------------------------
jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu <-- try this first
jrubick@oregon.uoregon.edu <-- if it bounces try this
jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu <-- last resort
Forwarded message:
To: sleong@oregon.uoregon.edu., kajohnson, jarubick
From: Wendy Price
Date: 17 Jan 93 14:59:51 PST
Subject: Autumn and Blake
another rossetti poem.
---------------------
Autumn Song
Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering:
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?
And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain.
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems - not to suffer pain?
Know's thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?
--------------------------------------
sonnet to frederick shields written on a sketch of william blakes
work-room and death-room 3, fountain court, strand
This is the place. Even here the dauntless soul,
The unflinching hand, wrought on: till in that nook,
As on that very bed, his life partok
New birth, and passed. Yon river's dusky shoal,
Whereto the close built coiling lanes unroll,
Faced his work-window, whence his eyes would stare,
Thought-wandering, unto nought that met them there,
But to the unfettered irreversible goal.
This cupboard, Holy of Holies, held the cloud
Of his soul writ and limned; this other one,
His true wife's charge, full oft to their abode
Yielded for daily bread the martyr's stone,
Ere yet their food might be that Bread alone,
The words now home-speech of the mouth of God.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
wendy price
I shut myself in with my soul,
And the shapes come eddying forth. DGR
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Forwarded message:
To: KAJOHNSON, JARUBICK
From: Wendy Price
Date: 7 Jan 93 21:31:22 PST
Subject: ADIEU
YES IT IS ANOTHER ROSSETTI POEM. I MANAGED TO GET A COPY OF HIS
COMPLETE WORKS AND YOU GUYS ARE GOING TO BE PLAGUED WITH SAPPY POEMS
FOR A WHILE.
ADIEU
----------
WAVING WHISPERING TREES,
WHAT DO YOU SAY TO THE BREEZE
AND WHAT SAYS THE BREEZE TO YOU?
'MID PASSING SOULS ILL AT EASE,
MOVING MURMURING TREES,
WOULD YE EVER WAVE AN ADIEU
TOSSING TURBULENT SEAS,
WINDS THAT WRESTLE WITH THESE,
ECHO HEARD IN THE SHELL,-
'MID FLEETING LIFE ILL AT EASE,
RESTLESS RAVENING SEAS,-
WOULD THE ECHO SIGH FAREWELL?
SURGING SUMPTUOUS SKIES,
FOR EVER A NEW SURPRISE,
CLOUDS ETERNALLY NEW,-
IS EVERY FLAKE THAT FLIES,
WIDENING WANDERING SKIES,
FOR A SIGN - FAREWELL, ADIEU?
SINKING SUFFERING HEART
THAT KNOW'ST HOW WEARY THOU ART,-
SOUL SO FAIN FOR A FLIGHT,-
AYE, SPREAD YOUR WINGS TO DEPART,
SAD SOUL AND SORROWING HEART,-
ADIEU, FAREWELL, GOOD-NIGHT.
--------------------------
Wendy Price
weprice@honors.uoregon.edu
--------------------------
Flying binoculars, why not?
Forwarded message:
To: weprice, jarubick, SGOODALE@OREGON.UOREGON.EDU
From: Kathy
Date: 14 Jan 93 17:16:09 PST
Subject: poems by Linda Stitt #1
Hi! Linda Stitt is a Canadian poet. I think she's AWESOME therefore
I'm going to start sending you her poems. This is #1. Enjoy!!
---------------------------------------
No Trouble At All
No need to flee from trouble,
just look it in the eye
and tell yourself
that you can see
its bright side, if you try,
and a cloud on your horizon
simply means that, by and by,
there's every chance
that there will be
a rainbow in your sky.
------------------------------------------
Adios Comparison
Some poets are scholars or prophets
or sages, who fill up their pages
with weighty, profound revelations
and write for ages.
But I am more simple, less solemn,
just someone who natters and chatters
and writes for the sisters and brothers
of family matters.
--------------------------------------------
Healing
The pain that sears the brain,
that burns through tissue, nerve and bone,
is just the body, learning
what the mind has known.
The mind that knows just negativity
and finds this life a sad and sorry place
can seal the spirit into suffering
and steal the body from its state of grace.
But love and joy forgive the shame
and cast out the fear and lack
and liberate the soul and heart
and give the body back.
-------------------------------------------
Croaked
I had a little froggie and he got squashed flat,
he was hiding under the welcome mat.
I warned him a dozen times about that
but frogs don't listen.
I'm getting a cat.
----------------------------------------------
by Linda Stitt
******************************************
* Kathryn Johnson, Slacker Extraordinare *
* kajohnson@honors.uoregon.edu *
******************************************
PICARD/RIKER 96!!!!
Forwarded message:
From: Self
To: @SYS:MAIL\62010001\POETRY.PML
Subject: Kahlil Gibran
Date: 11 Feb 93 17:13:30
------- Forwarded Message Follows -------
Date: Thu, 11 Feb 1993 18:35 EST
From: FORSGREN@guvax.acc.georgetown.edu
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
[...]
goodnight for now, and do not worry about writing, just let me keep
drinking the poetry...and now for my first "contribution:"
***********************************************************************************
And then a scholar said, Speak of Talking.
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace
with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the
solitude of your heart you live in your lips,
and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking
is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a
cage of words may indeed unfold its wings
but cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the
talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloness reveals to their
eyes their naked selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without
knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which
they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth
within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit
dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside
or in the market place, let the spirit in
you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to
the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your
heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the colour is forgotten and the
vessel is no more.
-excert from Kahlil Gibran,
(The Prophet)
Forwarded message:
To: weprice, jarubick
From: Kathy
Date: 15 Feb 93 23:40:14 PST
Subject: Linda Stitt #4
More poems by Linda Stitt
---------------------------------------
Personal opinion on an old phylosophical question
The falling tree will make no sound
with no one there to hear it fall.
Indeed, without observing eyes,
there isn't any tree at all.
---------------------------------------
Sometime
I connot embrace him completely.
Sometimes
the pain of proximity
is more than I can dare,
for he has betrayed me
with mortality
and I have retreated
to stand
at the dim edges of forgetfulness
and probe cautiously,
tentatively
at his memory,
ready to leap into distraction
should recollection
stray to tainted thought
or loss, abandonment, despair.
Sometime
I shall touch him joyfully,
fearlessly, totally,
when I have forgiven him his death
and me my expectation
that he would live forever.
-----------------------------------------
Things are sometimes what they seem
Mind on breath
at it pulls and pushes;
consciousness arises
to an object in the bushes.
A momentary glimpse,
a lightning-flash referral.
Here comes a squirrel's tail,
it must be a squirrel.
And instant recognition
just like that. -
You don't get a squirrel's tail
following a cat.
--------------------------------------------
by Linda Stitt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kathy Johnson | Silence is a culturally important
kajohnson@honors.uoregon.edu | non-active activity.
| by Prof. Malch
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Picard/Riker 96!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A "kind and profound" advice from moi: don't ever have mint patties
and diet coke for brunch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ___
Forwarded message:
Date: Wed, 17 Feb 93 19:06:03 PST
From: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: Sitting at the edge of the World (C&C welcome)
--- Forwarded message follows ---
Path: news.uoregon.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!ogicse!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!torn!nott!bnrgate!bcars267!bnr.ca!saumure
From: saumure@bnr.ca (Roch Saumure)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Sitting at the edge of the World (C&C welcome)
Message-ID: <1993Feb17.172434.29071@bnr.ca>
Date: 17 Feb 93 17:24:34 GMT
Article-I.D.: bnr.1993Feb17.172434.29071
Sender: news@bnr.ca (usenet)
Reply-To: saumure@uqah.uquebec.ca
Organization: Bell-Northern Research Ltd.
Lines: 74
Nntp-Posting-Host: bcarh910
Sitting at the edge of the World
================================
Sitting at the edge of the world
I can hear my heart breaking
I can see the pieces falling into the void
I can't stop from screaming
But nobody's there to hear me
And nobody's there to see me cry
And nobody's there to hold me
To stop me from losing my mind
Memories going round and round
Isn't there a way out of this hole
Images spiraling without a sound
Somebody please help me, I'm losing my Soul
Sitting at the edge of the world
You can't help but wonder what's it all for
So much suffering, so much misery
I wish somebody would come and shoot me
Could I ever find my way back home
A place where I wouldn't be alone
A place where the sun would shine
A place where my heart could dance
But I've been all around my world
And nowhere did I find the place
Where I could lay and rest
And today I sit here, knowing I did my best
So here I am, sitting at the edge of the world
I can hear my heart breaking
I can see the pieces falling into the void
I can't stop from screaming
But nobody's there to hear me
And nobody's there to see me cry
And nobody's there to hold me
As I start to lose my mind
Fear, Sorrow, Terror and Pain
All passes through my brain
Feelings of the past
Now chains holding me fast
And it starts to rain
And the wind is blowing again
Maybe this is all a dream
But what would it mean
I believe the sun is dying
And the stars have stopped shining
The trees have stopped growing
And even the Earth has stopped turning
Now I close my eyes
And fall from the sky
And the reason that I cry
'Cause I didn't hear goodbye
Sitting at the edge of the world
I could hear my heart breaking
I could see the pieces falling into the void
I couldn't stop from screaming
But nobody was there to hear me
And nobody was there to see me cry
And nobody was there to hold me
The day that I died.
Roch Saumure
(c&c welcome, please address at)
saumure@uqah.uquebec.ca
Forwarded message:
Date: Wed, 17 Feb 93 19:06:28 PST
From: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: Poem--For no reason
--- Forwarded message follows ---
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Path: news.uoregon.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!sgiblab!darwin.sura.net!paladin.american.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!usc!cs.utexas.edu!milano!cactus.org!wixer!ralph
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--For no reason
Message-ID: <1993Feb17.204848.16076@wixer.cactus.org>
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Wed, 17 Feb 1993 20:48:48 GMT
Lines: 25
For no reason at all
How very fond I
have grown
of you
for no reason at all
except the mixture
of yourself
and myself
which reminds me
so often
of when I tried as a boy
to mix water and oil
it didn't work
but the patterns were lovely
and after a while
I stopped trying to mix them
and just enjoyed the patterns.
--
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
Forwarded message:
Date: 22 Feb 1993 13:01:52 -0800 (PST)
From: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: Poem--I would hope
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu, jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu,
--- Forwarded message follows ---
Path: news.uoregon.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!ogicse!emory!swrinde!cs.utexas.edu!milano!cactus.org!wixer!ralph
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--I would hope
Message-ID: <1993Feb22.172504.4662@wixer.cactus.org>
Date: 22 Feb 93 17:25:04 GMT
Article-I.D.: wixer.1993Feb22.172504.4662
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Lines: 18
I would hope
I would hope that we can still be friends
once our friendship is over
and we are no longer.
That is my hope
vaulting over contradiction and improbability
not a rational construct you see
simply an urging of my heart.
--
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
Forwarded message:
Date: Tue, 23 Feb 93 13:14:56 PST
From: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: Poem--Listening
--- Forwarded message follows ---
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Path: news.uoregon.edu!usenet.coe.montana.edu!caen!malgudi.oar.net!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!milano!cactus.org!wixer!ralph
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--Listening
Message-ID: <1993Feb23.172604.5895@wixer.cactus.org>
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Tue, 23 Feb 1993 17:26:04 GMT
Lines: 30
Listening
Look:
Perhaps I DON'T know much about this
I certainly claim no special expertise
but I'm your friend and I want to help
really I do
so I will just sit here
listening forever
and you will know
when you need to know
that your friend is out there
in the very same space
listening because he cares for you
and this very fact will have unforeseen consequences
which we will never know
because there is no control experiment you see
which would allow us to tell how things become
differently
than they might otherwise have
that is mystery
they have not yet taken that from us...
--
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
Forwarded message:
Date: Thu, 25 Feb 93 23:05:01 PST
From: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: Poem--Mailbox
--- Forwarded message follows ---
Path: news.uoregon.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!ogicse!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!milano!cactus.org!wixer!ralph
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Mailbox
Message-ID: <1993Feb25.195232.8511@wixer.cactus.org>
Date: 25 Feb 93 19:52:32 GMT
Article-I.D.: wixer.1993Feb25.195232.8511
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Lines: 20
Mailbox
I always liked the mailbox
repository of infinite potentiality
though it took me many years
to realize the relationship
almost causal
between send and receive
and that is
still
something I have trouble with
on occasion.
--
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
Forwarded message:
From: Self
To: @SYS:MAIL\62010001\POETRY.PML
Subject: Bestfriend (forwarded)
Reply-to: jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu
Date: 2 Mar 93 08:14:50
--- Forwarded message follows ---
Path: news.uoregon.edu!usenet.coe.montana.edu!ogicse!emory!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!usc!cs.utexas.edu!qt.cs.utexas.edu!news.Brown.EDU!noc.near.net!oz.plymouth.edu!marsi
From: marsi@oz.plymouth.edu (Marsi Wisniewski)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Bestfriend
Message-ID: <1993Feb26.041012.2333@oz.plymouth.edu>
Date: 26 Feb 93 04:10:12 GMT
Article-I.D.: oz.1993Feb26.041012.2333
Reply-To: marsi@oz.plymouth.edu (Marsi Wisniewski)
Organization: Plymouth State College - Plymouth, N.H.
Lines: 23
It's Saturday; they are playing cards.
As he laughs with her, she studies him.
This man means everything to her--
This man who has seen her at her worst,
Who's loved her through everything,
Who's never raised a hand to her.
They can talk about anything,
Everything; neither is there to judge.
Always, he calls her beautiful.
But there are no words to describe him,
How she views him, what she feels for him.
This man she calls bestfriend,
This man she calls lover,
This man she calls husband.
-- Marsi G. Wisniewski
Note: I feel this poem came out a little on the sappy side. I am
open to CONSTRUCTIVE criticism as to how to go about changing it so
that it is less sappy. I would also like to know if anyone happens to
like it. Thank you.
-----------------
Forwarded message:
To: Jarubick
From: HONORS/GENE
Date: 17 Feb 93 10:56:28 PST
Subject: Poetry from Gene
ON THE EDGE
WE WALK ON THE EDGE, YOU ARE THE EDGE i AM THE EDGE
THE SWORD OF UNIVERSAL TRUTH SLICES THROUGH THE DENSITY
MOVING ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE
REDISCOVERING---THE WHOLENESS OF THE WHOLE
REVEALING WHAT IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE VEIL
WE ARE ALL THE HEALERS
HEALING, FIRST OURSELVES AND THEN EACH OTHER
TOGETHER WE STAND ON THE EDGE AWAKENING,SLEEPING
AND THEN AWAKENING ONCE AGAIN
LIVING ON THE EDGE----BALANCING ON THE EDGE
WE ARE THE MOBIUS
GENE (This is copyrighted material from the original production
entitled "UPRISING")
Forwarded message:
Date: Thu, 4 Mar 93 15:05:51 PST
From: jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu (Jade Rubick)
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: (fwd) Re: worms :)* style
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Path: news.uoregon.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!sgiblab!sdd.hp.com!usc!wupost!crcnis1.unl.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!usenet-feed.umr.edu!UMRVMA.umr.edu!S100479
From: S100479@UMRVMA.umr.edu
Subject: Re: worms :)* style
Date: Thu, 4 Mar 1993 05:54:49 GMT
Nntp-Posting-Host: umrvma.umr.edu
Organization: Univ of MO - Rolla
Sender: cnews@umr.edu (UMR Usenet News Post)
Message-ID: <1993Mar4.060047.26952@umr.edu>
Lines: 14
Hey here's a poem to along with the recently posted "Worms"
3/18/92
Worms on a rainy day
Crawl from the cracks
escaping from their concrete sarcophagus
The water drives them out
They squirm on the pavement
glad to escape a certain drowning
but their hopes are trampled
By people afraid to get wet
Captain Goatee s100479@umrvma.umr.edu c&C appreciated, personal please
Forwarded message:
To: jarubick@honors
From: MIMARKUM@honors.uoregon.edu
Date: 5 Mar 93 14:13:26 PST
Subject: how do you like these puppies?
Since you have been so kind in sending me all of those wonderful poems
I thought that I might take a minute and reciprocate. It is also a great
study break:)
WHAT DO I CARE
What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring,
That my songs do not show me at all?
For they are a fragrance, and I am a flint and a fire,
I am an answer, they are only a call.
But what do I care, for love will be over so soon,
Let my heart have its say and my mind stand idly by,
For my mind is proud and strong enough to be silent,
It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
-Sara Teasdale-
FAIR AND UNFAIR
The beautiful is fair, the just is fair.
Yet one is commonplace and one is rare,
One everywhere, one scarcely anywhere.
So fair unfair a world. Had we the wit
To use the surplus for the deficit,
We'd make a fairer fairer world of it.
-Robert Francis-
A HISTORY OF LOVE
1
And would you gather turds
for your grandmother's garden?
Out with you then, dustpan and broom;
she has seen the horse passing!
Out you go, bold again
as you promise always to be.
Stick your tongue out at the neighbors
that her flowers may grow.
2
Let me stress your
lovliness
and its gravity
its counter-hell: Reading
finds you on the page
where sight enlarges
to confound the mind
and only
a child is frightened
by its father's headgear
while a bird jigs and ol' Bunk
Johnson blows his horn.
-William Carlos Williams-
THE WARNING
For love-I would
split open your head and put
a candle in
behind the eyes.
Love is dead in us
if we forget
the virtues of an amulet
and quick surprise.
-Robert Creely-
FURTHER NOTICE
I can't live in this world
And I refuse to kill myself
Or let you kill me
The dill plant lives, the airplane
My alarm clock, this ink
I won't go away
I shall be myself-
Free, a genius, an embarrassment
Like the Indian, the buffalo
Like Yellowstone National Park.
-Philip Whalen-
THE TORTOISE
Always to want to
go back, to correct
an error, ease a
guilt, see how a friend
is doing. And yet
one doesn't, except
in memory, in
dreams. The land remains
desolate. Always
the feeling is of
terrible slowness
overtaking haste.
-Cid Corman-
THE HIPPO
A Head or Tail-which does he lack?
I think his Forward's coming back!
He lives on Carrots, Leeks and Hay;
He starts to yawn-it takes All Day-
Some times I think I'll live that way.
-Theodore Roethke-
ENVOY
Good Night, at last
the light of the sun is gone
under Earth's rim
and we
can see the dark interstices
Day's lord erases.
-Robert Duncun-
Now you can go home for the weedend content that you have had your
horizons expanded and your mind expended. Mariamme
Forwarded message:
Date: Thu, 4 Mar 93 15:06:55 PST
From: jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu (Jade Rubick)
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: (fwd) when the moon is crescent
Path: news.uoregon.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!ogicse!uwm.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!haight
From: haight@sun.ipl.rpi.edu (Liz Haight)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: when the moon is crescent
Message-ID: <62m492a@rpi.edu>
Date: 3 Mar 93 20:03:53 GMT
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Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY
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when the moon is crescent
________________________________________
when the moon is crescent in the sky
and i am cradled in its yellow curve
my desires cleverly disguised
in each star i cast upon the earth
within your reach,
i fall in love
when the moon is crescent in your eyes
and i am cradled in its darkest curves
--
Elizabeth Haight
haight@ipl.rpi.edu
--
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Jade Rubick Having children is hereditary:
jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu If your parents didn't have children
jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu You probably won't either.
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Forwarded message:
Date: Thu, 4 Mar 93 15:05:36 PST
From: jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu (Jade Rubick)
To: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Subject: (fwd) worms
Path: news.uoregon.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!ogicse!uwm.edu!wupost!howland.reston.ans.net!gatech!concert!ecsgate!lrc.edu!blosser_cy
From: blosser_cy@lrc.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: worms
Message-ID: <1993Mar3.213530.713@lrc.edu>
Date: 4 Mar 93 02:35:29 GMT
Article-I.D.: lrc.1993Mar3.213530.713
Organization: Lenoir-Rhyne College, Hickory, NC
Lines: 17
yet another rainy night on campus
the water-logged corpses
of a thousand worms
litter the sidewalk
trampled underfoot by callous youth
heedless to the sorry plight
of invertebrate dead
(spontaneous poetic gibberish/9:27pm wednesday night)
cb
--
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Jade Rubick Having children is hereditary:
jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu If your parents didn't have children
jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu You probably won't either.
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Subject: A quote for the day, 03/14...
Status: OR
"In the East... there was a certain man who was walking in the
market of Damascus when he came face to face with Death. He
noticed an expression of surprise on the spectre's horrible
countenance, but they passed one another without speaking. The
fellow was frightened, and went to a wise man to ask what should be
done. The wise man told him that Death had probably come to
Damascus to fetch him away next morning. The poor man was
terrified at this, and asked however could he escape. The only way
they could think of between them was that the victim should ride
all night to Aleppo, thus eluding the skull and bloody bones.
So this man did ride to Aleppo -- it was a terrible ride which
had never been done in one night before -- and when he was there he
walked in the market place, congratulating himself on having eluded
Death.
Just then, Death came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
`Excuse me,' he said, `but I have come for you.' `Why,' exclaimed
the terrified man. `I thought I met you in Damascus yesterday!'
`Exactly,' said Death. `That was why I looked surprised -- for I
had been told to meet you today, in Aleppo.'"
-- T.H. White, from "The Once and Future King", p. 286
Path: news.uoregon.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!ogicse!uwm.edu!wupost!gumby!destroyer!cs.ubc.ca!unixg.ubc.ca!ucla-mic!ucla-cs!oahu.cs.ucla.edu!lichter
From: lichter@oahu.cs.ucla.edu (Michael I. Lichter)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Amiri Baraka: Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note
Message-ID: <1993Mar14.223621.26013@cs.ucla.edu>
Date: 14 Mar 93 22:36:21 GMT
Article-I.D.: cs.1993Mar14.223621.26013
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[I have a backlog of stuff I meant to post a long time ago
but temporarily (or so it appears now) lost. Amiri Baraka
aka LeRoi Jones has been a jazz and blues drummer, a playwright,
a poet, a cultural leader ("father of the black arts movement")
a political leader, and a professor. I have seen/heard him read
on two different occasions to large audiences and he is extremely
dynamic. In his many musically inspired poems he sings and
scats as much as reads. Anyway, here's one of his poems.]
Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note
(For Kellie Jones, born 16 May 1959)
------------------------------------------------------
Lately, I've become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus ...
Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars,
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.
Nobody sings anymore.
And then last night, I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there ...
Only she on her knees, peeking into
Her own clasped hands.
Leroi Jones / Amiri Baraka
March 1957
--
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Jade Rubick Having children is hereditary:
jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu If your parents didn't have children
jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu You probably won't either.
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From: David Ni
Subject: Untitled Emily Dickinson (fwd)
To: jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu
Cc: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Message-Id:
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
Status: OR
Jade,
Dickinson's poems are of a dynamic genre. She is one of my favorite Western
poets.
David
-----------------------
Untitled Emily Dickinson
It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down --
It was not night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos -- crawl --
Nor Fire -- for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool --
And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine --
As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And 'twas like Midnight, some --
When everything that ticked -- has stopped --
And Space stares all around --
Or Grisly frosts -- first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground --
But, most, like Chaos -- Stopless -- cool --
Without a Chance, or Spar --
Or even a Report of Land --
To justify -- Despair.
From hong@oregon.uoregon.edu Thu Mar 18 13:12:42 1993
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Date: Thu, 18 Mar 1993 13:08:00 -0800 (PST)
From: David Ni
Subject: Comparative translations of Li Yu's poem
To: jarubick@ursula.uoregon.edu
Cc: jarubick@honors.uoregon.edu
Message-Id:
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII
Status: OR
Jade,
Li Yu is one of my favorite Tang poets. Enjoy!
David
-------------------------
Comparative translations of Li Yu's poems
The Last Emperor of the Southern Tang Dynasty, Li Yu
Silent I ascend alone the Western Tower.
The moon is like a hook.
The desolate wu-tong shaded inner courtyard locks
in the lucid autumn.
Snipped, it breaks not.
Unraveled, it entwines again.
It is the sorrow of separation,
Not the usual sort of flavor to the heart.
Translation by Lu Zhiwei
Five Lectures on Chinese Poetry
Joint Publishing Co. HK 1984.
Silent I ascend alone the Western Tower.
The moon is like a hook.
The desolate wu-tong shaded inner courtyard locks
in the lucid autumn.
Snipped, it breaks not.
Unraveled, it entwines again.
It is the sorrow of separation,
Not the usual sort of flavor to the heart.
Translation by Lu Zhiwei
Five Lectures on Chinese Poetry
Joint Publishing Co. HK 1984.
Silent, I climb the Western Tower alone
And see the hook-like moon.
Parasol-trees lonesome and drear
Lock in the courtyard autumn clear.
Cut, it won't sever;
Be ruled, `twill never
What sorrow `tis to part!
It's an unspeakable taste in the heart.
Translation by Xu Yuanzhong
100 Tang and Song Ci Poems
HK 1986 ISBN 962 07 1077 0
Silent, alone, I climb the west tower;
The moon is like a hook.
The lonely Wu-t'ung trees stand in the secluded
courtyard, locking the clear autumn in.
Cut; it cannot be broken;
Arranged; it remains entangled---
This is the sorrow of separation.
It leaves a very special kind of taste in the heart.
The evolution of Chinese Tz'u Poetry
>From Late Tang to Northern Sung
Kang-i Sun Chang
Princeton University Press 1980
Li Yu
Spring's rosy colour fades from forest flowers
Too soon, too soon.
How can they bear cold morning showers
And winds at noon!
Your rouged tears like crimson rain
Intoxicate my heart.
When shall we meet again?
As water eastward flows, so shall we part.
translation by Xu Yuanzhang
100 Tang and Song Ci Poems
ISBN 962 07 1077 0 HK 1986
Date: Thu, 18 Mar 1993 13:03:01 -0800 (PST)
From: David Ni
Subject: Comparative translations of Li Bai's poem
Driking alone with the moon
Li Bai
An arbour of flowers
and a kettle of wine:
Alas! in the bowers
no companion is mine.
Then the moon sheds her rays
on my goblet and me,
And my shadow betrays
we're a party of three!
Though the moon cannot swallow
her share of the grog,
And my shadow must follow
wherever I jog,
Yet their friendship I'll borrow
and gaily carouse,
And laugh away sorrow
while spring-time allows.
See the moon----how she glances
response to my song;
See my shadow___it dances
so lightly along!
While sober I feel,
you are both my good friends;
When drunken I reel,
our companionship ends,
But we'll soon have a greeting
without a goodbye,
At our next merry meeting
away in the sky.
Translated by Herbert A. Giles
Gems of Chinese Literature
Bernard Quaritch Ltd London 1923
From: burnswcb@kodiak.gvltec.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Flies in the Net EmberFaken
Date: 7 Apr 94 14:58:53 -0500
The Web
We are little flies
tangled in the web
Singing softly to
one another
lest the spiders hear
The Net
sparkles jewel-like
When the light's right
Wm. C. Burns, Jr.
(c) April 1994
Subject: We Real Cool -- Gwendolyn Brooks
Date: 12 Apr 94 21:57:46
We Real Cool
------------
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon.
=--------=
The Pool Players.
Seven at "the Golden Shovel".
----------
Date: Sun, 24 Apr 94 10:19:08 IDT
From: kevint@bwc.org (Kevin Trotter)
Subject: (fwd) Japanese love poem
Kawasaki Kamakakaze by romenuet@cris.com ROBERT MENUET, New Orleans
---------------------
Sayanara gei,
Geisha-sama, bonsai, zen;
Sayanara gei,
Mitusbishi-san, kaizen.
Kawasaki gei kinsei--
Kanban haiku bansai Zen;
Morihiro Hosakawa,
Kanban raku, yen, yen, yen.
[English Translation]
Motorcycle Wind Spirit
---------------------------
Adieu, Adieu, Farewell
Lovely lady, gardening, and the cloister;
Adieu, Adieu, Farewell
Honorable Mitsubishi continuous quality improvement.
I am a man possessed by a deeply felt sensibility between
myself and my motorcycle, with its sensitive ergonomic design!
Here is my poetic packing list; with Zen I say, Let the good
times roll!
Unlike the bill of lading [i.e., legacy] of our most
recent scoundrel, a paean to lucre written in clay.
Date: Tue, 26 Apr 94 14:35:56 IDT
From: kevint@bwc.org (Kevin Trotter)
Subject: (fwd) cigars
have a cigar
tasteless slop rolled into
a four inch wad
bite the end off
swallow saliva
left over after you spit
the butt out and
it slides down into
your stomach
a four inch wad
light it up
smoke lolling up your nose
reduces lung capacity to
a four inch wad
put it out
the ashtray is full of
tar and ashes leftover
from previous cigars
a four inch wad
have a cigar
tasteless slop rolled into
a four inch wad