RAP-UP V1I1: Select Quality Poems from rec.arts.poems. Jan 1 -Jan 7
Yehuda Berlinger
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rec.arts.poems - Unsung Pieces
Volume 1, Issue 1
Select Noteworthy Poems in r.a.p. during the week of Jan 1 - Jan 7, 1996.
Poems are presented in ascending size order.
See FAQ at the end of this posting.
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Contents:
RAP.V1I1P1
Author - under...@pi-user.pi.net
Title - (echoes)
RAP.V1I1P2
Author - eve...@netcom.com (Wlodzimierz Holsztynski)
Title - city wint-ku
RAP.V1I1P3
Author - ao...@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Zita Maria Evensen)
Title - finery
RAP.V1I1P4
Author - cr...@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Chris Grayson)
Title - moontaxi
RAP.V1I1P5
Author - day...@crl.com (Mike Dayoub)
Title - Rush
RAP.V1I1P6
Author - ao...@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Zita Maria Evensen)
Title - non
RAP.V1I1P7
Author - tem...@bei.net (Marquis De Sade)
Title - Love...Promise
RAP.V1I1P8
Author - tuto...@opus.freenet.vancouver.bc.ca (Gerald Busch)
Title - Dry-Eyed at a Funeral
RAP.V1I1P9
Author - Jenniffer L. Lesh <jl...@cello.gina.calstate.edu>
Title - Writer's Block in Winter
RAP.V1I1P10
Author - lar...@lsid.hp.com (Larry Whatley)
Title - Wind at Los Cabos
RAP.V1I1P11
Author - die...@ix.netcom.com(robert diebold)
Title - American Oxide
RAP.V1I1P12
Author - mmic...@ix.netcom.com(Michael McNeilley )
Title - the Pope like Scrooge McDuck
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RAP.V1I1P1
From: under...@pi-user.pi.net
Subject: (echoes)
Date: Mon, 01 Jan 96 20:33:44 PDT
the first tear of autumn
echoes
the last laugh of summer
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RAP.V1I1P2
From: eve...@netcom.com (Wlodzimierz Holsztynski)
Subject: city wint-ku
Date: Wed, 3 Jan 1996 00:02:52 GMT
cat-like pedestrians
ice covered sidewalks
wlod
1996-01-01
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RAP.V1I1P3
From: ao...@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Zita Maria Evensen)
Subject: finery
Date: Sat, 6 Jan 1996 19:15:00 GMT
we wear coats of different colours.
the finest deerskins and scrimshaw combs
are still skin and bones to others.
/z.
(c) 6 Jan 1996
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RAP.V1I1P4
From: cr...@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Chris Grayson)
Subject: moontaxi
Date: Tue, 2 Jan 1996 06:05:27 GMT
Out of the blur
moon memory
bright round face
thursday friday
who cares
every crater
clear as mirror
smiled as the taxi
sped for home.
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RAP.V1I1P5
From: day...@crl.com (Mike Dayoub)
Subject: Rush
Date: 5 Jan 1996 07:23:42 -0800
Rush
======================================
See the skaters on the lake
spin so graceful, fall and smile
I'll pick you up, I swear I will
lace your skates and try
Come on, Rush, let go the rail
don't worry what we think
It's time to drop your schoolboy smirk
and dare yourself to glide
============================================================
RAP.V1I1P6
From: ao...@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Zita Maria Evensen)
Subject: non
Date: Sun, 7 Jan 1996 22:56:23 GMT
looking in with outside eyes
as i walk along the narrow side streets
and hole-in-the wall restaurants
offering intricate food
and quebecois ambience
of old montreal
this is canada, i'd say
but i don't live here - i only see
passions and worry in young eyes
what about tomorrow tomorrow
when all the speeches become
yesterday's newspapers
i'd say 'non'
it seems to be the sensible thing
to do --
but i don't live here
/z.
(c) 29 oct 1995
rev 7.1.96
montreal
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RAP.V1I1P7
From: tem...@bei.net (Marquis De Sade)
Subject: Love...Promise
Date: Sat, 06 Jan 1996 22:32:49 -0600
Walk with me beneath the trees
among the Aspens white
Sing to me of love forsaken
beneath the stars at night
Tell me of your fondest wishes
beneath a summer's rain
Take me in your loving arms
and hold me once again
My love for you is true, my friend
no doubts behind these eyes
Promise and faith are yours to keep
for the heart will never lie
I shall walk beside you for eternity
and never stray beyond our path
My love for you is true my dear
and my love shall always last
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RAP.V1I1P8
From: tuto...@opus.freenet.vancouver.bc.ca (Gerald Busch)
Subject: Dry-Eyed at a Funeral
Date: 4 Jan 1996 05:01:03 GMT
DRY-EYED AT A FUNERAL
As the mourners read the prayers
and lay my father to his rest,
I stand here dry-eyed,
watching the sun sink in the west,
and feel the pain, but haven't cried.
You see, I lost him long before he died,
with the passing of my mother,
for my memory united them to form a single token
of the love instilled inside me as a boy
by their harmony, the source of all my joy.
Once one partner took her leave,
the perfect set was broken.
Now I cannot seem to grieve
for one without the other.
...Gerry Busch
January 3, 1996
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RAP.V1I1P9
From: Jenniffer L. Lesh <jl...@cello.gina.calstate.edu>
Subject: Writer's Block in Winter
Date: 4 Jan 1996 21:05:18 GMT
WRITER'S BLOCK IN WINTER
Night lies still in a nacreous bed,
but my mind only sees the white page
becoming a white shadow
of my life. How do I reclaim
my voice, pull phonemes
from winter air? I prefer
blurred exactness, fearing the razor-sharp,
fearing the edge between nothing
and creation, the moment
when the tongue taps the alveolar ridge,
when white disperses into spectrum,
when roses reclaim their loud colors,
pulling red into petals blanched by death.
Until then, I stand
at the frosted window, beating
a dumb fist against a dumb mouth.
January 3, 1995
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RAP.V1I1P10
From: lar...@lsid.hp.com (Larry Whatley)
Subject: Wind at Los Cabos
Date: 5 Jan 1996 16:36:22 GMT
The Wind at Los Cabos
With nothing in its way for a thousand miles,
the wind comes upon the beach at Cabo
like a mother's hand. Brown pelicans glide
along its bias, then seem to die suddenly
and crash headlong into the gray-blue Sea of Cortes.
Even among the children. One shouts, "Marco,"
squinting into splashes of the others: "Polo."
It's hard to believe this wind
is the same one finds in Talpas,
wrung of its last comfort by mountains
and dry sand. There, it dies in swirls of white
dust that rise to great heights in clouds
that pass without a shadow.
But that is conjecture and far away.
Today, brown pelicans dive for smelt
in the Sea of Cortes, and condors sit
lazy on the rocks.
- Larry Whatley
1/5/96
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RAP.V1I1P11
From: die...@ix.netcom.com(robert diebold)
Subject: American Oxide
Date: 2 Jan 1996 17:05:21 GMT
American Oxide
Oily tar and oil and dirt
hot road bakes wavering heat
stained highway black through
hard blown death rising
beside piles of rusted guns
Love lies bleeding
in a drainage ditch
grafted on to itself
a weed
I breathe the smouldering air
thin and dry we are
wasted by degrees
of exhaust
Mouth and leather plumes gas
gasping tongue draws dust
and spews pain of long walking
movement
forever walking sticks
of dirt pounded feet
Limbs are sun swaying
a harsh lunatic dance
We mock blessed ourselves !
My own yankee pope fingers
kissed my withered lip
mumbled bloodless psalms
I sweat confusion
spore of decay is dry
We weld each other
upon iron oxide men
whose shadows burned
our crumbling walls
Dark armies of mad jackboot priests
stalking in formation
heaving and swinging
swaying and scream singing
their knee-hung unformed twins
dangling and chanting:
"people eat in the extreme heat
by night and today
wine becomes meat
flesh is the bread"
So be it....
Wind pelted skins of onion
stung by flys and seeds
Sterile miles stolen
from miles of ragged soldiers:
Attending and....exploring
the wounded insects
scuttle past
a broken shelter
hiding man beating wife
spattered broomsticks
he is crying he screams
his love crusted loathing
We touch ourselves inside
We smile with recognition
teeth bright and dizzy
in the sun on earth
We do not leave this road
I fear danger
Smell of ammonia
Smell of america
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RAP.V1I1P12
From: mmic...@ix.netcom.com(Michael McNeilley )
Subject: the Pope like Scrooge McDuck
Date: 3 Jan 1996 13:10:20 GMT
the Pope like Scrooge McDuck
--------------------------------------
perches on the balcony rim
overlooking the money pit
brimming with soft cash
his finest cassock of white
his flowing robes
a beautiful nun on each hand
they leap together into heaven on earth
as Popes have always done
since Pope for a day Umberto the Unaware
broke his crown on
the hard cache of Inca gold
now buried some 10 stories down
and from above the baby Jesus watches
a host of heavenly babies at his side
wonders aloud how could it be
so little done with so much
when the holy rich would clamor
for the contents of the Vermeer room
the lost year of Gaughin
the tilting pile of Velasquez
the unbelievable unknown
heartbreaking art of medieval women
sold at history's biggest auction
the proceeds banked
the interest forever enough to feed the poor
but the work of babies is play
and the baby Jesus turns away
dives with other babies
those sole inhabitants of heaven above
into clouds of purest white
as the pope comes up for air
floats on his back smiling
watching cash of every currency
small bills stained by dirty fingers
float down like snow
and thousands of miles away
in a rough-hewn graveyard niche
another statue weeps
one bloody tear
.mcn.
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Frequently Asked Questions about RAP-UP
---------------------------------------
Q1: What is RAP-UP?
A1: RAP-UP is a weekly summary of select quality poems that were posted
to rec.arts.poems. "Quality" is used very loosely, and in this context
means those poems which:
a) The editor was able to access from his news site
b) The editor liked, or thought were literate or had some
other quality that distinguished it from riff-raff.
c) Were not already reposts from some other source, and
were original.
d) Were posted between midnight on the first day of the period
and midnight on the last day of the period, and received at
the editor's site no later than midnight (local time) on
the second day after the period of time as indicated above.
The current editor is Yehuda Berlinger (yeh...@bimacs.cs.biu.ac.il).
Q2: What is the point of RAP-UP?
A2: Some people read r.a.p. to learn about poetry, to read, write and
critique poetry as serious artists, and to keep up with all the good
poems being posted.
RAP-UP isn't for those people.
RAP-UP is for those people who like a bit of poetry here and there, but
don't want to wade through r.a.p. to get it.
I have been frustrated trying to "get to the good poems" in r.a.p.
(let alone getting to the poems) for quite some time. I decided that
if I approached it as a job, I would feel less frustrated, and I could
probably help some other people who might be similarly frustrated.
Q3: Isn't this a copyright violation?
A3: The poems are being posted right back to the original place that
they were posted to originally. They are not being cross-posted into
any other forum. This is no more of a copyright violation than replying
to a message with the original posting offset in the reply. The editor
of RAP-UP has made no changes to the poem, and claims no copyright on
the poems. Copyrights to the poem remain exclusively in the hands of
the authors.
Actually, the editor does remove spurious lines and headers from the
posting, which s/he presumed were not part of the poem itself
(such as signature files). In the event of an error, please inform
the editor, and s/he will repost the poem in the next edition of RAP-UP.
Q4: Who are you?
A4: I am a regular reader of r.a.p., just like you. I claim no
editorial or poetic mantle; while I do write poems, and even give them
to people, I have not subjected myself to the true test of poethood by
posting my poems in public places. At least, not yet.
Q5: I can do it better than you!
A5: Go ahead. I have no special literary skills, nor any special editing
skills. However, no one was doing it, and it needed to be done.
Q6: How come my/a certain poem isn't in RAP-UP?
a) It never reached my site, because it got lost, or the distribution
was set locally, instead of globally.
b) It was not posted during the proper time frame, or did not reach
my site until after the cutoff time (see Q1).
c) I lost it.
d) It was at the end of a post which started out not as a poem.
e) It was a repost, or it wasn't original.
f) I didn't like it (rarely, more likely...)
g) I didn't think it had literary value.
h) There were too many poems; some had to be cut.
As you will no doubt discover, the current editor has his own tastes in
poetry, and the selections in RAP-UP reflect this. RAP-UP can't repost
every single poem (or even every single good poem) in r.a.p. each week;
this would be a waste of everyone's bandwidth. RAP-UP does not claim that
the poems contained herein are the only good ones, and all others are bad
ones. In fact, RAP-UP may contain bad poems on occasion, since the
contents are entirely determined by its non-authoritative editor(s).
Q7: Who died and made you God?
Nobody. See Q5. I would be willing to include letters of praise or flames in
future editions of RAP-UP.
--
Yehuda Berlinger
yeh...@bimacs.cs.biu.ac.il