Best Cornell Poems
A pair of monolid eyes, and I’m academically enlightened.
As if I’m some talented prodigy on his way to an Ivy League.
Able to quickly solve problems without ever breaking a sweat.
Absolutely - perfect - in every single subject I decide to take on.
Always an A+, an automated Asian-American achiever android
As an unwilling recipient of a C in Algebra 2, I really disagree.
Before you chant “Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your cow!”,
Consider the billions of Asians who are never working in STEM.
Division homework I can handle, algebraic functions, not so much.
Even with A’s in Geometry last year, my EOC score was only a two.
For every decent grade I earn, is a test I end up completely bombing.
Good student, yes. But “perfect student?” Not in this lifetime, I am.
The worst feeling in the world is falling so far behind these expectations.
Often, it seems like I’m sinking in an ocean of questions left unanswered.
The water filling up my lungs is all the pressure I have to endure each day.
The air I’m losing more and more of is the confusion and frustration I face.
It’s all too much to bear; not living up to this idea of what I’m supposed to be.
Sometimes, I wish I was one of those geeky cliches, non-Asians think of us as.
So no, Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Columbia, Brown, Cornell, Dartmouth,
and Penn are not camping outside my door with a full-ride in their hands.
I don’t know how to graph cubic or polynomial functions to save my life.
Complex solutions and complicated rational functions have accurate names.
And shoutout to Chemistry, where my mathematical issues have extended to.
I still don’t get what those equations have to do with elements and formulas.
Truthfully, I’m just not the model minority stereotype people think I am.
I have many strengths and lots of weaknesses, just like everyone else.
I’m not special. I’m hardly the greatest mind this school has ever seen.
Am I thrilled about it? Heck no. If only I was good at Math and Science.
But what’s the use in lamenting? All I can do to change that is to improve.
Inside, I know I’m very smart. Not perfect at all. But still smart nonetheless.
Years from now, I’ll realize that, even with all my flaws, I am good enough.
And no matter how much I fit into a stereotype, the truth is all that matters
The Great Blue Heron always does its best
While hatching, fledging, high atop its nest;
With Nature’s rhythms every day is blessed,
As surely as the Sun sets in the West.
The heron pair take turns to go on quest,
Come back to tend the young, by life possessed;
When one departs, the other stays at rest,
With awesome grace.— At camera’s behest,
I watch and wonder, uninvited guest.
Men seek conceits, awards, to be conferred,
Then strut and fret with pridefulness absurd;
Some dote upon a poet’s every word…
But I’d prefer to be more like that bird.
~ Harley White
[Poem inspired by viewing the Great Blue Heron nest on live camera at Cornell Lab of Ornithology]
Ithaca New York 1969 And all the leaves in all the trees along the gorge that led to Cornell had turned to gold Home from Viet Nam in 68 and my life was an oxymoron One day I cared about everything and the next day my head and heart were empty And who ever loved me then was as much a victim of the war as I was A cruel wind was blowing and when I spoke out against the war People who had never been there and some that had exploded with anger They didn't like the thought that I was useing the freedom of speech I fought for And I had a hard time being hit with garbage as the beat went on into madness Everyone was talking but no one was listening Children are not for burning Father Daniel Berrigan said as the carpet bombing continued The ends do not justify the means All those years ago and we charge into one war after another learning nothing as we go except that20%of today's casualty list is the result of suicide. And what amazes me is that America seems to be OK with that. The ends do not justify the means and who will be the hero who cries enough.
Long Lost Love
Mine was the kiss that you so used to miss,
when I was just gone for the day.
Now I'm always here and I'm ever so near,
but you couldn't be further away.
Mine were the eyes that saw all sunny skies,
a future so bright, warm and clear
but the torrents of tears and me fighting my fears,
made all but the blues disappear
Mine was the voice
that you picked as your choice
for every "I Love You" you heard
and even though it's still said every night before bed
my tone says I don't mean a word
Long lost love...
oh where did it go?
I know it won't change
but I still need to know.
Long lost love...
the fire has died
a promise is all I have left by my side.
We're watching each other grow old...
left here with nothing to hold...
and nothing is ever as cold....
as long lost love.
Wanting to die as I'm living this lie
and wading through rivers of tears,
mine is the heart that's been torn all apart,
our love has been lost now for years
Long lost love...
oh where did it go?
I know it won't change
but I still need to know.
Long lost love...
the fire has died
a promise is all I have left by my side
We're watching each other grow old....
left here with nothing to hold...
and nothing is ever as cold...
as long lost love
Mine was the smile that lasted a while
just hearing you call out my name.
Now when you call I feel nothing at all
and I wonder if you feel the same?
Long lost love...
oh where did you go?
I know it won't change
but I still need to know.
Long lost love....
the fire has died
a promise is all I have left by my side
We're watching each other grow old...
left here with nothing to hold...
and nothing is ever as cold...
as long lost love.
We're watching each other grow old.
We're left here with nothing to hold....
and nothing is ever as cold....
as long lost love.
-Jeannie Minor, Cornell Minor
12/20/2015
A National Tribute To Chris Cornell
Such a treasure! He'll always live in our hearts, and nothing can take that away from any of us. The beauty of death can sometimes make treasurable moments, that we all band together in moments that break worlds such in his memorable footprints that he left behind for us to live on, not forgetting his time here, but seeing the beauty that he left to just stop, look around and see them like this.
Rock on in those Sky's of blue, you will never be forgotten in our lives, and hearts, and souls. You were an inspiration to many, and talented singers, writers, and music encouragement to millions. Thank you, for being the artist you were, I'm grateful. You're loved and still loved, and your love will remain here in this life for all eternity as it is marked now. Inspiring artists you were, R.I.P Chris Cornell and play your music and sing your songs to Angel's up there including God! God Bless you, brother...
With Deep Sorrows,
William Darnell Sr.
Daily mounting pressures
What hides behind the eyes
You've tried your best to catch her
This crazy thing called life
While imitating art
No one saw you draw the signs
Sadly here you are
Dressed up like suicide
If you had asked permission
Would they grant the fall
Have you ever heard them listen
To your cries before
Set with tunnel vision
To the world outside
Giving out you give in
Dressed up like suicide
What was once distance thunder
Now goes off in your head
The down pour pulls you under
Held by the hand of death
A cushion for your problems
Sign on the dotted line
Smoke em if you got em
Dressed up like suicide
Although there's an average of 120 suicides a day in America alone the death of Chris Cornell was a real shocker to me and once again puts this tragedy to the forefront.
I beg you, please seek help....
For yourself and your loved ones.
There I was standing on the corner,
Buildings were burning in the background.
As I held the young girl in my arms I realized,
She was just like me.
Alone and forgotten in the world with nowhere to turn.
Her mother left when she was 6
Raised alone while her mother turned tricks,
Now look at what she has become
Lost and forgotten by most and hated by some.
Looking into her eyes I remember when I left
Her small face starring up at me as the door closed
Hearing her mother scream as the engine started
Driving away I forgot….a forgotten memory until this day
The day when she would need me.
The day when my heart finally returned
To my family~
John Cornell
"Who Do You Think You Are?"
She said, “Do you think LOVE is real?”
He said,
“LOVE is all there is.
It permeates all dimensions and all are asking for it.”
She said, “How can that be,
when throats are cut and lives beheaded on screen real time
and forgotten on a flippant air wave?”
He said,
“The World is estranged like a child and parent,
like a lover scourned,
wanting Me,
present,
to answer
Everything"
She said, “Do you not have all the answers?”
He said, “Inside you, there is me. You All have the “Answers".
Silence
is a door closed
on real
LOVE
Backs turned
are a united
child
spurned and
recalcitrant
wanting
answers
for
Honest
Men
and Women.
Disbelief
Never begs;
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
1 Corinthians 13:13
"Black Hole Sun" Soundgarden
https://youtu.be/TZThOsCv2Mw
"Black Hole Sun" Chris Cornell (beautiful rendition)
https://youtu.be/oObvBpsTxEk
"Black Hole Sun" Katie Noonan (beautiful rendition)
https://youtu.be/BdANzSLTRQ4
What’s on your mind today: Do Tell? #2
Binders full of women; where? what is the price?
Governor that is so nice
Was it the pioneer women? "No
It's the women from Massachusetts
Not the pioneer women
who feed the hogs?
Attend to the children
And fed the chickens
But the modern women who attend
Harvard, Princeton, Yale and Cornell
Prestige Colleges and Universities
A binder full of educated women
Mr.R you would have been better off saying
I am going to give a voice to all women
Whose experiences might otherwise have been overlooked?
My Administration new passed word from now on is going
to be"Ladies First"
Pulled up your bumper babies
Vote for me.
There are men who deserve to be loved
just because of their eyes,
naked souls which whisper
straight to your heart.
Star dust, soulmate, God's elemt.
Call it whatever you want,
there are no words explaining that bond.
Men you do not need to meet or touch
to offer them all the world's love
right from the moment you first heard them,
or looked into their pure, heavenlish, sad eyes.
Only God knows why we miss them
when they are gone.
Why we feel like if someone
ripped out a piece of us...
A piece we never knew we had.
And probably only God knows why
men who deserve that kind of
unconditional, inexplainable love
decide to give up and leave
while our hearts are broken into pieces
and refuse to accept their absence.
Even wind smells, feels and sounds like them...
In loving memory of Chris Cornell who has touched my soul in a very strange and inexplainable way.
Used books were sold each semester.
Los Angeles City College bookstore, and
California State University, Long Beach ...
They, too, sold used books.
I've been in possession of some -
Students felt fortunate stumbling on the right one,
For some classes commenced without certain books -
"Liberation Theology" was one such book-
I'd already own a copy signed by Dr. Cornell West
He spoke at Dr. Maulana Karenga's center one Sunday.
The point I want to make is:
Some used books held handwritten notes-
Students left their marks on pages of time.
And as the years passed, I formed a habit -
That habit told me not to borrow library books.
Why? I read, and like breeze with leaves, I twiddle words.
To deface another person's property... how trifling.
And so, I'd browse Barnes & Noble, and
Thrift stores housing books I would purchase and cherish.
For I know countless poems will come to mind
For I have seen haiku moments in my travels,
For when I die, find me on pages of time.
*
Walking the dogs I try to escape life
I freeze, as I stand alone in the cold
Dog urine turns white to yellow as I watch,
Waiting patiently for the little brown gift
Finally there it is!
I bend slowly to pick it up,
Too bad more people didn’t do the same.
Damn Dogs~
By John Cornell
1673 Newport Murder Trial
One of my great grandfathers in my family tree
Was accused of murder in 1673.
His name was Thomas Cornell
And they said he killed his mother Rebecca and sent her to hell.
She was found dead near the fireplace on her bedroom floor
While Thomas and his family were dinning in the main room behind a closed door.
Her clothes were burned and had a small stab wound in her side.
Thomas was last to see her alive.
Some said Thomas had borrowed a hundred pounds from her
Hire a servant and would pay her back, but it never occurred.
She had been hear to say: “Thomas looked fiery upon her her” and it was true.
And he also said : “Her name did stink about ye island” too.
Neighbors and many others
Said Thomas did not like his mother.
But, the damning evidence is what the court learned.
From his uncle's dream his sister had said: “Look how I've been burned.”
Thomas was brought to trial and gave this defense
Because her death by him made no sense.
His mother lead a very miserable life
And always carried a pen knife.
“I am going to do away with myself” she often said
And she caught fire from the pipe she had been smoking in bed
It was known his mother he could not tolerate
But it was his uncle's dream that sealed his fate.
Found Guilty and sentenced to hang on Miantonomi Hill where he lost his life.
But others thought "not guilty" including his pregnant wife.
She gave birth to a daughter -Innocent was her name
Eventually married her first cousin, knowing her father should never been blamed.
Radiolarium & portugese man o' war
The most precise paridgm I ever saw
Blaschkas' legacy..a materclass
Now long lost in the past
Living flowers in Harvard glass.
Leo & Rudolf Blaschka 19th cntury Bohmians creators of these unique intricate glass sea sculpture
See moe @ www.pangalactictrading.com/Jellyfish/slides/JellyFish004.html
& @
exhibits.mannlib.cornell.edu/blaschka/life_work/index.htm
I sit starring at the screen waiting…
I wait for something to come into me
Something to fill my thoughts and stop my heart.
A thought that shall not to be ignored,
For it changes my life,
Dreams answered, before realization
I sit unaware of my thoughts,
Lost in my mind I try to grasp concepts
Words change meaning as I slowly put them together.
Thoughts may change, but they are mine,
For they are within me all the time!
Fighting for thought, I find inspiration
It fills my heart as dreams rush through me…
Vodka filled dreams all the same,
But still they are still mine!
By: John Cornell