Category Archives: Holly Duval Cornell’s Poems & Pose

Poems a different way to communicate to the world. The place of “Who fucking cares” to “Hey I hear what you are saying!”
“…to set forth or offer for attention or consideration…let me pose a question…”

The Yucca Poem

The Yucca Poem



pon the wall was a painting
Simply framed of a Yucca plant
My parents’ home enfolded it
Hanging on the living room wall 
always smiling at me
The artist’s hands painted 
it upon a wild hill
I looked at it all my life
From babe until the painting
Was stolen away after 
my parents’ death.
It had a constant white bloom.
Curiously I looked 
at the flower many times
I am sure it sung me to sleep.
The Yucca is a wild plant
Growing along
The aromatic California 
coastal ranges
further into the valley and hills
Tall thin and tenuous
boldly spread throughout 
valley canyons.

Yucca calls us to our 
nobility of character
Yucca calls us 
to a wild uniqueness
Singing if you listen quietly
A hum older than we know.

IMG_1461

As a friend of friends


Urania is talking to Uranus
Ambassador to the planets and stars
She calls to Earth
As a friend of friends,
Catalyst of goodness and humor,
to Uranus ascending electric magma
Eccentric insect antenna muses
Human Beings 
To be the best 
we can be.


 

 

 

 

In Return

Receptive, illumination and synchronicity, I’m a wise old blooming flower, waiting to be pollinated, I’m receptive to what I shall become, Let life approach me, I do not have to go seeking, I have all I need to succeed, I’m a beautiful rose,
wise, good and ready.
I can be trusted, I follow things through, I speak my mind, Let the spirit of god / goddess, move over my deep dark waters.
Receptive as an open flower. Now, waiting for life to impregnate me.
“The Rose makes honey,” the rose gives honey in return.


 

Promethean fennel

The wild fennel is growing in my garden,
From the Santa Monica Mountains,
Only a few seeds thrown around my land,
From the staff-sheath that I have,
Near my hearth.

My wild Promethean fennel,
Smells of licorice and earth,
Feels like numinous beats,
Waves from the coastal region,
Myths revealing through my soul.

Prometheus freed by Chiron,
Fire consumes my heart,
Compassionate green healing,
Of my mind and dreams,
Love will grow tall and strong
My wild Promethean fennel.

The flourishing membrane

 

Thalia
Thalia (/θəˈlə/; Ancient Greek: Θάλεια, Θαλία; 
"the joyous, the flourishing"

Breaking through 
Breaking through the membrane
Of turning 60
Letting go of
Youth, maidenhood and giving birth
Entering the world
Of crones and seniors with purple-grey hair.

Wise witches who stand
By old dark shedding trees
they sweep the cobwebs away
My repellent membrane.

Holding me back
Calls of youth, music, and romance
Death must be a friend
Calm and gentle friends
It’s my heart I worry about!

Will my tenacity be strong enough
To make It through the membrane
Will I be whisked up
By my elder ancestors?

My hands that look like grandmother’s
My need for love, friendship and companionship
Will I take my magic with me
The golden thread that brings meaning to old age?

Mystery, adventure, humor and longing
Will these qualities still inspire me
As my muses tease
Will my muses be waiting for me 
On the other side as I wrestle 
With this dark and flourishing membrane?

A Gift from Saturn and a Poem for Him

Winged centaur
Invisible sounding hooves
Upon the backyard cement.

Lifted me upon his back
We flew through
The rain, clouds, and satellites
Rounding the earth.

Straight and fast towards
Saturn’s castle
He is to give me a gift.

I’ve waited upon the words
Of Buffalo yesterday and today
“Today Saturn will give
You a gift… today today!”

I waited and wondered
Tonight, as I watch the hearth fire
I heard the call towards Saturn
As before …

I rode over frozen land
Blue ice and white paths
Over all we flew 
centaur’s wings outstretched
Gracefully I slip off the centaur.

I walked towards the big door
Dark but when opened
Filled with light and beings
Those who lived there
Those who were visiting like me.

An earthling's visits are often short
Saturn, I found
Up the golden spiral staircase
Waiting with a smile
And comfortable charm.

Saturn gave me a gift
A green box
Asking me
Not to open it now.

Wait until I am home
And place it over the fire
On your hearth,
The gift will reveal
Itself to you.

My journey home was fast
I made a space upon my hearth
Above the fire
Then turning to look out the window.

The wet outdoors
From a cold rain
Found me hoping
For a real cymene.

Of the ascending centaur
Glissading and glistening
Away from my soul through the rain
Under a full peeking moon.

Saturn told me
To write a poem about the green box
A gift from him
And so, I have.


 

Fourth Winter Wonderland Poem

Cold at night we walk
Around our neighborhood block
Hearts are pumping
Tall are the palm trees!

Turn the corner
A silence is broken
“Hoot, hoot!”
Then a short walk more
Another “hoot. hoot!”

15 years since we heard
The owls in the trees
Two of them maybe?
Near a Los Angeles cement waterway.

2 or 3 in the morning
The owls were closer still
The moon was almost to it’s fill
Westerly to the left descending
A round brightness of light.

Told my man
In sleepy slumber
“The owls are near!”
I’m awake with the owls
As they ascend away.

Second Winter Wonderland Poem, Saturn and Chiron and Beyond


Astronomical, astrological, metaphysical ~ trinity.  Saturn: Time, Philyra: Form and Chiron: Solar egg sack.


It seems that people
are talking about…

Saturn on steroids
since ascending
to the high land of his home.
As Capricorn alerts the master !

Chiron to take  on the power
A healing of this shadowy world …
much more beyond our knowing.

I am not worried
because of my years of
friendship with Saturn and Chiron

Education and evaluation
I am stimulated with wonder and energy.

Keeping myself grounded
becoming impassioned  with life.

Hudley Stencil of Chiron 1994


First Winter Wonderland Poem, Neptune in Cancer!



I was thinking how Crones,
older women,
are not as influenced
by the cycles of the Moon!

I look back over
my feminine life
Seeing how unconsciously
I was driven.

Influenced by the phases
of the Moon,
my powerfully changing hormones!
Best described as chemical slavery.

A female body
a lunar ebb and flow alignment
with the continuity of our Moon!
I now see it also as a partial 
cultural brainwashing where; 
sex, power, and self-worth, 
is somehow all tied together!

Yes, Crones have desires 
needs of love and intimacy
I have come to experience
Crones are no longer ruled
by the cycles of the Moon
or our hormones!

There is the higher octave
of the Moon,
known as planet Neptune 
dancing with the astrological 
sign of Cancer
I join in this brightly aware dance!

The flutter of hormones 
emotional ways become silent
to the constant
moving river of insight!

For Crones
our external beauty wanes
our internal beauty waxes
as a luminous pearl
I embrace my pearl.

Consciously I slough off
many burdensome illusions
This is the correct time
An ongoing relationship
Between psyche and the cosmos.

Last Autumn Magic poem 8~ not doing either !

 

Our government is having 
a bad time relating,
The Republicans and Democrats 
are not even debating,
The rich get richer
the poor get poorer.

The sweet is sweeter
the sour is sourer.

If you want me to relate to you
try relating to me
I can let you go.

I can stop relating
I can stop relating.

  Contrary is the music
  the holiday singing
  relating and caring
  hoping and sharing!

Yet our government is 
not doing either
  no hoping and no sharing.



 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/relate/