Best Cornelius Poems
I was in-processing my Army unit in Germany when the fortieth anniversary of D-Day happened; but, alas, I couldn't leave. I wanted so much to be there to meet the old surviving veterans, to shake their hands and hear their stories. I had read accounts of D-Day-- June 6th, 1944. I had already seen several times the film The Longest Day, based on the book by Cornelius Ryan.
Eventually my family followed me back to Germany, and we later took a vacation that included Normandy.
We visited Sainte-Mere-Eglise, and I pointed out the manekin of Private john Steele--the paratrooper that had gotten stuck on the church's steeple.
We visited the upper German fortifications of Point Du Hoc, where Army Rangers fought their way up impossible cliffs.
We paid our respects at the US war cemetery on Omaha Beach, and my sons and I walked where so many Americans had died to free Europe.
My wife was very somber and respectful at these sites; she is French, and grew up hearing stories of the German occupation.
I often still watch on June 6th either The Longest Day, or Saving Private Ryan, and try to imagine my forebears on those beaches.
Cornelius was a linguist, not a poet -
though his ego was much too large to know it.
After penning a traditional Japanese tanka,
regarding the policies of la casa blanca,
he realized his multicultural poetry - though raw
in meter and message - lacked a certain je ne sais quoi.
Inspired by the writings of our own Maurice Rigoler
*la casa blanca = the white house
*je ne sais quoi = a quality that cannot be named easily.
spawned in the summer of 1853
these sliced succulent deep fried wonders
resulted from the demands of a complaining customer
whose ******** led our man, a one,
mr. george crum
to do his best to satisfy the putz in question by
replacing the humdrum n’ waterlogged n’ sodden,
slithery,
pommes de terre
with
his
new
&
improved
(as thin as could possibly be imagined),
drenched in salt,
deep fried & sizzling,
immaculate conception.
and as you can imagine, mr. cornelius vanderbilt
(said unruly customer),
whom mr. crum felt would most assuredly send back the creation he just made,
again,
for his money back,
instead
had something of an ****** of the taste buds!
and so these
“saratoga chips”
came to be the next big thing---
satisfying lovers of starch, grease & salt, everywhere.
it didn’t take long for word to get to canada where they buried them things in
dill pickle,
ketchup,
jalapeño & cheddar,
salt n’ pepper,
roast chicken---or to
austria where they soak em’ in garlic, bulgaria, where paprika is the taste of the day—
& colombia boasts
mayonesa y limón,
egypt popularized the kebob & stuffed vine leave essence of zest,
you got oregano chips in greece
you got the overwhelming majority chomping down the tayto’s in ireland
whereas in
russia
it is caviar, crab and
shashlik
which make the people salivate.
regardless of where you are or what you are doing
you can get some kind of potato chip
yes,
you can suck down that sodium & grease
mmmmmmmm
i
myself
am currently in something of a sour cream n’ onion phase---
and i must say
i praise the day
that crum went back in the
kitchen
&
angrily
whipped up a batch of
yummyness
for
vandy
to
suck
down---
commencing
la revolución de patatas fritas.
Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt
raised you as a monument
to his empire, and why shouldn’t he.
From humble beginnings his art was
monopoly. He understood the art in craft,
it seems, for grand indeed you are. You
never belonged to him though, not
for a minute. You are touched by the handprints
of the thousands of souls who have built you:
ditch diggers and rock breakers, immigrants with picks,
sand-hogs and men off the reservation who walk in the wind.
Carpenters and engineers, plasterers and track men,
free men from the south and young men off farms
along the Erie Line from Chicago. You are oiled
with their sweat your memory holds their faces.
You have grown with progress, made adjustments.
In application you are a multi-chambered bellows,
you are the compressing and expanding cacophony of the accordionist,
you are the venturi effect. A pair of lungs. A beating heart;
pulling and pumping in all directions the flowing
blood-life of our nation. Beneath your dome of stars
you blanket the needy. Lovers rendezvous under your all-seeing
four-eyed clock: keeper of centuries with its secret
spiral staircase optical nerve. See’er of millions,
taking an imprint of each. Living. Breathing. Alive.
It was one of them nights with nothing to do
We sat round the log fire in the inn like you do
Telling ghost stories and massive white lies
Old Harry snuffed his pipe out, light shone in his eyes
I will tell you a story, once fishing, its true
I once went on the lake with Jimmy McGrew
We was drinking and smokin and things were all fine
When suddenly a snatch back, something caught the line
Well it would not come up, it was stuck or got snagged
I caught a whale, Old Jimmy he bragged
After a time, he said , for goodness sake
I will have to go down there, go into the lake
So Jimmy jumped in but he came back up fast
He couldn’t catch his breath all wheezy and gasps
I says, to Jimmy, what’s going on
We gotta get out here, come on, come on
Something had spooked him, that was sure clear
I never seen Jimmy so taken with fear
When we was back, on old Terra Fermain
He was much calmer, I asked him again
You won't believe what I saw, he did said
There was a guy down there, standing on the bed
Just standing right there with a net in his hand
Stood there, right standing, his feet on the sand
We went into town and he told the law
They came to the lake with their frog suits and all
After a while they went down for a look
Then they came back for a rope and a hook
One said to Jimmy, you saw him its true
We understand how he scared you we do
Its not what you that think, that guy is long dead
Just try and get him from inside your head
He ain’t stood there, standing, like a monster alive
I tell you what we found when we did go dive
He,s been missing for some time, Its Cornelius Peggs
The thing is, that he had artificial legs
They heavy from iron and got stuck in the sand
Boat accident I guess from that net in his hand
(Witty Epitaph)
Herein lies Cornelius Gus Huss
Who wanted more muscles and then plus
Til one day he had more of his "juice".
It killed him when he combined it with booze.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2014
October,31,2014
The Lord is always there
listening to our every prayer
he is for us every single day
and hears every word that we say
he listens when we are happy
he listens when we are sad too
whatever the situation he will
always be waiitng to listen to you
he will bend towards you
with his ears open wide
as he helps you as he stays by your side
the Lord will be in your waking and as you rest
he ehars your prayers and will answer
in a way that's going to give you the best. Amen.
1 peter 3 vrs 12 The eyes of the Lord watch over those who do right,
and his ears are open to their prayers.
psalm 17 vrs 6 I am praying to you because I know you will answer, O God.
Bend down and listen as I pray.
Acts 10 vrs 30 0 Cornelius replied, “Four days ago I was praying in my house about this same time, three o’clock in the afternoon. Suddenly, a man in dazzling clothes was standing in front of me. 31 He told me, ‘Cornelius, your prayer has been heard, and your gifts to the poor have been noticed by God!
2 chronicles 31 vrs 27 Then the priests and Levites stood and blessed the people, and God heard their prayer from his holy dwelling in heaven.
Amen
Herein lies Cornelius Gus Huss
Who wanted more muscles and then plus
Til one day he had more of his "juice".
It killed him when he combined it with booze!
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2011
September,24,2014
Roman dignity, what has happened to it all?
This month of March has been something to appall.
I cannot believe our esteemed senators
could possibly become murderous conspirators.
The body of our beloved Gaius Julius
lies bloodied and mutilated before us.
What an act so dastardly and atrocious!
Among the murderers are Marcus Brutus.
Included is his brother-in-law Cassius Longinus.
Another assassin is Servilius Casca.
You also tell me there is Lucius Cornelius Cinna.
How diseased and decrepit is this body politic!
Graft and corruption have ravished the republic!
This murder will lead to acts that are more terrible.
Further bloodshed and civil war appear inevitable.
i stood over looking
the general view
of the bath of caracalla
evading sudatorium seduction
the church of st. cesarea
in palatio captured my thoughts
rather quickly i entered
sarcphagus of lucius scipio barbatus
dazed i was gently lifted
hovering above columbarium
of villa codini ah my human sufferage
unleashed near the arch of drusus
i found myself kneeling
beyond the gate of st. sebastian
how i'd remembered
the findings of the church
of domine quo vadis
welcoming of monks settled
deeply within catacombs
of st. callistus the fine
chapel of cornelius
the bishop winks at the sight
of cecilia's remains hisses of trickery
a covenant maderno's manner
lessons and arrows embedded
amids sebastians sculpture
ravished by greif
for giorgetti's finali catacombs
and tombs surrounding
my morbid energy force
abruptly backing right into
circus of mexentius shouting
metella metella open
the appian way
seneca's revealed
the tower of selce in ruins
Here's a tale I'd like to tell
About some characters we know so well
Forgetting them is hard to do
We think of them the whole year through
The misfit toys are not forgotten
On that cold and lonely island
Hermie's doing all it seems
To be the dentist of his dreams
Frosty starts to dance and sing
From the life that his hat brings
Crystal makes a lovely bride
As she stands by Frosty's side
The Grinch does not act nice at all
Stealing from The Who's so small
Cornelius travels down the river
Looking for his gold and silver
Rudolph's nose is shiny bright
To help guide Santa through the night
So he can bring some special joy
To every single girl and boy
Hortense and Gertrude
Priscilla, Imogene
Once-popular names
no more to be seen
Isadore, Cornelius
Cyrus and Mortimer
Back in the day such
names courted her
You never know though
when a name may return
Such as Ambrose, Edsel
Penelope or Fern
Art and mind are once again
Silent then. a quiet name
Comes.
Cognomen...
Golden chickpea dance in fields
Knowing strokes of paint do yield
Genius genus genie genes in us.
Electric Text in the core of this
Write. Script.OS. Comitis....
Duenos lingua Cornelius.
Kernos Major. Mojo
and Candles.dear
;p
Apologies, that title line
Is not intended to cause harm.
Exactly what Saint Peter saw,
This, heaven's vision, was no charm.
A sheet descending from the sky,
By its four corners, lifted high,
And slowly, then did it descend.
It was laid flat upon the earth.
It teemed with reptiles, beasts, and birds,
A voice said, "Peter, rise, kill, eat."
But Peter said, "Lord, by no means,
I won't eat common or unclean."
The voice was heard a second time,
"What I, the Lord, have declared clean
You would do well to not decry."
Then, yet again, the voice did chime.
And just as quick as it appeared
It was withdrawn back in the air.
While Peter, inward was perplexed,
A knock was sounded at the door.
Inquiring for Simon within,
Cornelius, seems, sent these men.
So Peter said, "Why do you come?
I am the one you're looking for."
Said they, "Our lead, Cornelius,
An upright and God-fearing man,
An angel told to visit you
That you might join him at his house,
So he could hear what you might say."
And so they went upon their way
With Simon Peter now in tow.
What God prepared, he did not know,
But once arrived, the words just flowed.
"With you all Roman, I, a Jew,
Cannot associate with you,
But now I truly understand
That God has declared all are clean
For that is what the vision means.
He simply asks that you do right,
And what's acceptable to him.
That you believe He sent his Son.
That, though they nailed him to a tree,
God raised him up for you and me,
And from our sins has set us free.
That all who call upon His name
Abide for all eternity."
Though Peter still was sharing this,
The Holy Spirit fell on them
And all attending were amazed
For on the Gentiles, Spirit rained.
Then they were baptized, one and all
And for two days, Peter remained.
(from Acts 10)
Cornelius is my son, a fine up standing boy,
And when he was born, oh what a bundle of joy,
He loves his music and plays the guitar,
And i pray to god he really does go far,
He loves to sing and loves to play,
And i really hope it stays that way,
For 16 years hes been such fun,
And i could not have hoped for a better loving son,
We really love each other with all of our heart,
And it will really really hurt when it is time to part,
I hope you remember me for all my good,
And hope you tell your kids about me just like you should.