Conference turris::womannotes-v1

 
    AS A NATION, we are oppressed by an economic system that is overdrawn;
    which enslaves the rich and improverishes the already poor.
    
    AS A SOCIETY, we are repressed by a mass media that deludes us into
    believing we can still have a piece of the Rock; brainwashes us
    nightly with television - the Pepsi generation controlled by SWAT;
    networks sold out to ITT along with the nation's interests.
    
    AS INDIVIDUALS, we are repressed in a society that purports Freedom
    as a commodity at a Price few but Rockefeller can pay.
    
    AS WOMEN, we are repressed in a man-made world that exploits our
    Max Factor faces and ignores Rape; implies inferiority while it
    consumes our female Einsteins and Picassos.
    
    AS CHILDREN, we are oppressed by an Education system that stifles
    rather that stimulates childish struggles for independence in a
    society that wants Conformity rather than Creativity.
    
    AS OFFENDERS AND VICTIMS, we are oppressed by a justice system that
    is permeated by injustice, parasitic lawyers, unjudicial judges
    and punitive prisons that poison rather than redeem.
    
    AS A CULTURE, we are entrenched against one another, sex against
    sex, young against old, races against creeds, in a system that
    profiteers from both our Repressions and our Oppressions.
    
    AS INDIVIDUALS, it is imperative that we free one another from
    Repression and recognize the True Oppressor.
    
    AS A NATION, our neurosis is perpetuated by those who insist that
    there is a difference between the Oppressed and the Repressed.
    
    Angeline JoVan (1974)

I assume you mean modern poetry (and not something by, say, Emily 
Dickinson?).  Anyway, try anything by the following:

Adrienne Rich  (good poetry, even for those who usually don't like poetry)

Anne Sexton (a little weird at times, but strong stuff)

Fanny Howe  (she lives in Brookline, MA, has published poetry in 
the "Small Press".  Her novels are also written in poetry form: try 
_First Marriage_.  By the way, last Sunday she had an article in the 
Boston Globe Magazine.  Her last published work is _Robeson Street_, a 
collection of poetry.)

You can also try Erica Jong, for something lighter.

There are others I know of, but their names aren't on the top of my 
head.

Good reading!

-Rob

    Thanks Rob - many of these women I have heard of and the ones that
    I haven't I will surely look up.
    
    A. Rich and E. Jong are two of my favorite!
    
    Angeline

I heard a woman reading poetry on "All Things Considered" last night (the
radio news program from National Public Radio, heard on WBUR & WGBH from
5-6.30pm).  The news story was about the 1-year anniversary of the
confrontation between the MOVE group and the Philadelphia city government.  

Did anyone else hear it?  If so, do you remember her name?  I wouldn't enter
this note with so little information except that listening to her read her
poetry was very moving.  It wasn't "women's poetry" in the sense that it was
about being a woman, but it was about being different, which is the more
general topic.

Frankly, I'd never had much interest in poetry, but hearing her may have
changed my mind.  In this case, the performance was definitely part of the
work.

If no one else got her name, perhaps I'll write to NPR and see if they can
give me a pointer.
					-- hal

    
    Try Denise Lebertov's _Relearning The Alphabet_
    
    This was written in the late '60s and early '70s, and is sometimes
    very angry stuff, especially in her poems which deal with Vietnam
    and war in general.  I reread it earlier this year, and still find
    it to be relevant.
    
    Rita
    
    

A couple other poets I forgot in the other note:

Sylvia Plath (poetry similar to Anne Sexton's---both committed suicide, 
I think)

Stevie Smith (don't know much about her or her poetry, but she's 
discussed a little in DSSDEV::BOOKS)

Also, thinking about this note yesterday when I was in a public 
library, I saw a book called _The Penguin Book of Women's Poetry_.
(Penguin is the publisher.)  It's organized chronologically, and much 
of the poetry in it was written before this century.

-Rob

	I am a dangerous woman
	Carrying neither bombs nor babies
	Flowers nor molotow cocktails.
	I confound all your reason, theory, realism
	Because I will neither lie in your ditches
	Nor dig your ditches for you
	Nor join in your armed struggle
	For bigger and better ditches.
	I will not walk with you nor walk for you,
	I won't live with you
	And I won't die for you,
	But neither will I try to deny you
	Your right to live and die.
	I will not share one square foot of this earth with you
	While you're hell-bent on destruction,
	But neither will I deny that we are of the same earth,
	Born of the same Mother.
	I will not permit
	You to bind my life to yours
	But I will tell you that our lives
	Are bound together
	And I will demand
	That you live as though you understand
	This one salient fact.


From:	Reweaving the Web of Life: Feminism and Nonviolence
	New Society Press
	Philadelphia, 1982

    I am extremely interested in contemporary women's poetry.
    
    Here are two of my favorites:
    
    Marge Piercy : "Circles On the Water" a collection of her
                     work which includes some wonderful
                     insights on being a woman 
    
                   "My Mother's Body" her newest collection of\
                    poetry
    
    Alice Walker  (of "The Color Purple" fame:)
    
                   "Revolutionary Petunia"
                   "Goodnight, Willie Lee, I'll See you In the
                    Morning" 
    
                   are two of hers.  
    
    If you have or do read either of these poets I'd like to
    hear what you think of them.  I've enjoyed many hours of
    reading their books.  It's kind of consoling to know that
    there are woman out there, like Walker and Piercy, who
    feel a lot like I do and can express themselves so well.
    
    I also have a book called "Poems Poetry From Antiquity to
    Now" which has women's poetry from all over the world
    translated into English.  It's pretty amazing how feminist
    sounding some of these women were so long ago - and a lot
    of it still applies because a lot of things haven't changed
    that much.
    
    I'm glad there are others who love poetry.  I knew all 
    those books couldn't have been published just for me!
    
    Lorna
    

	    "Horses Make a Landscape Look More Beautiful"
			<_Jym_>

    _Atalanta_ published by Papier Mache Press of Los Angeles.
    This is a small anthology of poetry and short writings by various
    women that focus on women's athletic experiences.
    
    It's mail order only, I believe.  If anyone is interested, she
    (or he) can borrow my copy or I can get the address to write.
    $5.95, I think.

    Ellen
    
    Would love to have the address.  Can you post it here?
    
    Thanks!
    
    Angel

    _Atalanta_: an anthology of creative work celebrating women's athletic
    achievements.
    
    Papier-Mache Press
    121 S. Hope Street #413
    Los Angeles, CA 90012

    Thanks Ellen.  I'm going to buy the stamp now.
    
    Angel

    By Kristen Lems, reprinted in Ann Landers column today:
    
    I am a farmer, been one all my life.
    So call me a farmer, not a farmer's wife.
    The plough and hoe left their patterns on my hand
    No one can tell me this is not my land.
    I am a farmer, not a farmer's wife.
    
    

    Re -1, I really like that.  (I didn't know Ann Landers ever put
    meaningful quotes in her column :)  )
    

    Kristen Lems is actually a songwriter and songsinger from the midwest,
    but I absolutely agree that her songs belong under women's poetry.
    However, her songs aren't only confined to issues that confront women
    but Blacks (her song about Rosa Parks made me blink back tears) as well
    as our environment.  Here's one of my favorites that first introduced
    me to Ms. Lems:
    
    
    
    Talkin Gender Neutral Blues
    
    Well, I was walkin down the street one day
    Readin the signs that passed my way
    And after awhile I started to see
    That none of those words referred to me...
    "Good will toward men..." "All men are created equal..."
    "Praise Him..."
    
    Well, I asked some friends if they agreed
    That they felt left in the things they read;
    They told me yes and added some more
    And soon we all felt pretty sore...
    Congressman ... businessman ... sideman ...
    But I sure never heard of a househusband!
    
    Well, some men can by and a fight began to grow;
    "You girls are so dumb you just don't know--
    These here are called generic words;
    They're meant to include both the bees and the birds."
    Well gee fellas, how am I supposed to know?
    I certainly don't feel included.
    
    Well then okay, said I, if that's so true,
    I'll just use "woman" to cover the two.
    "It don't make a difference to us," they said,
    "If you wanna use 'woman,' go right ahead."
    I said, thanks, that's real sisterly of you;
    Glad to see you believe in sportswomanship.
    
    "Now hold your horses," they started to cry.
    "I think I'll hold my mares," said I.
    "You're leavin all of us guys behind!"
    Why no!  We're all a part of womankind!
    So don't fret, friends...take it like a woman...
    You'll get used to it, just like we all did!
    
    (Kristen Lems 1978, from the album "Oh Mama"
     on Carolsdatter Productions, copyright Kleine Ding Music)
    
    
    
    Tamar

    I have also posted this in the POETRY notesfile.  I got it from
    a magazine a couple years ago.  I don't remember who wrote it.
    	Hope you enjoy it.  It's my favorite.
    
    				I AM
    		I am not an obstruction
    		Hindering the progress of your career,
    		Nor am I a blockade,
    		Preventing you from succeeding.
    		I am not a barrier,
    		Confining your abilities,
    		Nor am I a roadblock
    		Detouring your chosen path.
    		I am not a thing,
    		Nor a gadget,
    		Nor an object of manipulation.
    		I am young and free and alive.
    		I am human, just like you.
    		Not the sun above you
    		Or the ground below you.
    		Not an opponent,
    		Who would impede your growth as an artist,
    		But a friend who would encourage it.
    		A woman to be beside you,
    		Not your instructor to teach you,
    		Nor a maid to pick up after you,
    		Or your psychologist to analyze you,
    		But someone to comfort you,
    		Confide in you, inspire you
    		And believe in you.
    		I can be everything I want to be,
    		And nothing I don't wish to be.
    		I can hurt and be hurt.
    		I can love and be loved and
    		I can be gentle or strong.
    		I am not to be pitied,
    		Nor taken for granted.
    		I do not want to be used,
    		As one uses a utensil.	
    		I want to be wanted,
    		To share in your successes
    		And your failures,
    		Your joys and your sorrows,
    		Your ups and your downs.
    		But you are seeing me differently.
    		You look at me and see someone
    		who will hold you back,
    		Inhibit you, restrain you.
    		Until you see who I am,
    		I will go.
    		But knowing me,
    		If you do not reach out today,
    		I will simply wait until tomorrow.
                                                  

This was given to me a while ago by a woman. There's no specific gender
    here but I thought I'd share it with you all. It pretty much says
    the way I look at life.
                           
    
    Cal.
    



			THE STATION
			===========
		  (By Robert J. Hastings)


Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision.  We see ourselves
on a long trip that spans the continent.  We are traveling by train.  Out
the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of
children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside,
of smoke pouring from a power plant, or row upon row of corn and wheat,
of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city
skylines and village halls.

But uppermost in our minds is the final destination.  On a certain day at
a certain hour we will pull into the station.  Bands will be playing and
flags waving.  Once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true
and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw
puzzle.  How restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes of 
loitering -- waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.

"When we reach the station, that will be it!" we cry.  "When I'm 18".
"When I buy a new 450 SL Mercedes Benz!".  "When I put the last kid
through college".  "When I have paid off the mortgage!".  "When I get
a promotion".  "When I reach the age of retirement, I shall live happily
ever after!".

Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one place to
arrive at once and for all.  The true joy of life is the trip.  The
station is only a dream.  It constantly outdistances us.

"Relish the moment" is a good motto, especially when coupled with Psalm
118:24, "This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be
glad in it".  It isn't the burdens of today that drive men mad.  It is
the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow.  Regret and fear are
twin thieves who rob us of today.

So, stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles.  Instead, climb more
mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers,
watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less.  Life must be lived as we go
along.  The station will come soon enough.

    re: .18
    
    thanks... I really like it!  In fact so much that I just extracted
    it to send to some other people, who might not read this conference...
    
    Gale

    Great stuff.  Reminds me of what my friend Bill was telling me and
    several others over pizza one night three or four weeks ago.
    
    "You know," he said, "I always thought at some point in life everything
    would finally be fine, okay, and I'd have it all together."  We
    all thought that was funny and laughed about it for a while.
    
    I *loved* his honesty.  He's 62 years old and I wanted to ask him
    (but didn't dare) how old he was when he finally figured that out.
    It sounded strangely like it might have been recently in his life.
    How old was I?  Around 23 or so, I think.  How old were you?

    	-Ellen

    Thank you for .18. I spent some frustrating time this weekend talking
    with a friend who has the same issue - the "when I get everything
    straightened out I'll get on with my life" syndrome I also experience.
    It's frustrating enough
    when you are keeping yourself from experiences while you are waiting
    for things to straighten out, but it's equally or more frustrating
    when your waiting affects decisions you should be making with someone
    else!!                                                                     
    
    Feeling a little comforted,
    
    Elisabeth

    Adrienne Rich is doing a poetry/prose reading September 11 in
    Cambridge. The profits will benefit Sojourner (women's newspaper)
    and the Boston Women's Fund. To find out about tickets, call (617)
    661 - 3567 (Sojourner). The tickets are $8 apiece and are still
    available as of today.
    
    Elisabeth

    I read this in soc.women (which I briefly recently belonged to
    - too time-consuming to read unfortunately), it was the sign-off
    of a woman named Hilda:

         
    Under the boot we may not cry
    Under the moon we may not walk
    But under the breath of electron spells
    We stretch green roots of woman talk
    
    
    it seemed to sum up this notesfile quite nicely...
    
    -Jody