autumn lingers unfinished
though cold drops november
rain and waits undiminished
'til native summer sun remembers
what could unmake
when days full ache
bloom autumn colors
quick winter all borders
golds greens yellows
reds purples browns
a rusted rainbow frowns
as leaves scoot over meadows
fallen from mountain forest
after fields have given harvest
a father of one teaches his son.
chase catching leaves for fun
they twist turn swivel pirouette
lunge leap slide slice 'til earth is whet
while boy staggers with arms stretched
missing while dad knows misdirect fetched
two and three leaves while son fustrated
cries to quit but egged on infuriated
at last by chance or by experience
claps and traps one in victory dance
Copyright © Cornelius Brantley | Year Posted 2024
Cornelius McGillicuddy Mack
You can’t make up a name like that
At baseball he took a loud whack
(Managing the A’s to 3,731 wins)
~ Suit-and-tie, teetotalling aristocrat
Peieter Cornelius Mondriaan
son of a Calvinist preacher man
Outlned his geometrics in black
making a colour-filled abstract
It’s Howdy Doody Time!
It’s Howdy Doody Time!
If you know this rhyme so nifty,
Your childhood was probably in a fifty.
Remember the advertisers promoting color TV?
This was when we all had black and white, you and me.
Howdy had forty-eight freckles representing each state of the USA.
Watching him on the tube was what most of us did every day.
Remember Buffalo Bob, Howdy’s Sidekick?
He amused all of us children, he was honest, not slick.
We bought Wonder bread, because they spouted that it was good muster.
Most of us wanted the ballots they printed, to vote for Phineas T. Bluster.
Chief Thunderthud and Chief Featherman kept us honest, us kids.
J. Cornelius Cobb, the shopkeeper kept clowns on the skids.
If you remember anything, this one chant should be incredibly clear.
Let's give a rousing cheer, because Howdy Doody is here!
Cornelius McGillicuddy
Conservative fuddy-duddy
Though he shortened his name to Connie Mack
Neither smoked, drank ~ or cut players any slack
___________________________________________
Connie Mack managed the Philadelphia Athletics major
league baseball (MLB) team from 1894 - 1950.
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
Emily Dickinson: Drove He Knew Haste
It was like a day like no other,
a day like so many before this,
college bell rang like a high school bell,
a bell like so many that bother.
Cornelius a friend, Bethany,
his friend, Tyra her friend, then there's Schell,
everybody's friend, and of course Mike,
he is the driver with a bad knee.
He revs the engine, repaid with stares,
he backs up into a bush and bike,
scars his frame, the bike is his brother
gives the once over, shows that he cares.
Driving hastily, Tyra then scream,
Michael look on, car roll in a stream,
Corn, Beth, and Ty, all in a wet dream,
Whilst Mike, Schell and I, all swim downstream.
2020 February 19
Rhyme Scheme;
abca, dced, feaf, hhhh,
Howmanysyllables;
16 lines x 9 syllables per = 144 syllables total
We desperately need your help...we have no light in the dark.
We are to young for voice...sometimes all bite and no bark.
We get pushed aside...and usually forgotten.
We just need a chance...we're not all rotten.
We come from all over...we are too many to count.
Our Mommies didn't want us...our burden was too high an amount.
We all search for hope...in pieces and bits.
We have been left unwanted...a bunch of misfits.
Please reach out and help us...don't let them forget.
God brought you here to help us...his love we all get.
We've been split up and broken...separated by state.
We pray that somebody will want us...until then we just wait.
Like Yukon Cornelius...and Charlie in the box.
We make up this group of misfits...of whom nobody talks.
Please give us a voice...make sure that we're heard.
We pray that you hear us...go forth with our word.
Here lies Cornelius Nash
He died amid the Wall Street Crash
No longer being a millionaire
He stepped off the tower, into thin air
A dream remnant floated in the air
A spellbinding way to entice new lovers
A myriad of emotions flooded Cornelius as he
Caressed his true love faerie, Flora
Eternally grateful to find her, he sat back
Admiring her neck, the exact color of his prettiest
Most aromatic roses
The young lovers bathed in a fresh birdbath
Tantalizingly fun
All melancholy gone, Cornelius was
Captivated and enchanted by his lady love.
The bud of a weeping almond tree floated gently down,
Gliding onto the top of the water.
The night was tranquil.
Only the moon spied on them
There was a whisper of a breeze
His love song came out,
He knew he would never love like this again
As he took Flora into his arms and began to dance.
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.
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.
(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
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
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
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