Category Archives: Holly Duval Cornell’s Poems & Prose

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…”

Summer Poem number 2



I used to see anarchy & 
chaos much differently. 
Today I see it as something 
I will not agree to. 
Yet the will of an individual 
can be applied for the benefits 
of all or for only oneself. 
To harm others without caring. 

I used to think 
it was to bring all others 
to the table 
and to change 
and make new ways 
of seeing the 
world creativity 
and imaginatively. 
An individual can 
uniquely inspire a generation, 
or a few people, 
to be good human beings. 

Or the opposite 
can happen when an ego causes 
dark chaos & 
we are witnessing this now.  
It is a time to consider this all,
....
as very important parts of who we all are!? 
So much for August… it does this to me.

July moves into August

July moves into August. A time of justice and heat, a time of foresight and deep. For me it is about news… some bad and some good news. I have known this time of the year to be delirious dark and forbidden. Today it has reached an illuminating place of thanksgiving.

Between our psyche and the cosmos is magic. Magic moves between our hidden unconscious coming forth from our dreams. Yes, that Magic coming with psychic foresight of knowing. Real causality or synchronicity does not matter to me. Natural magic! I live all combinations.

Yesterday we went to Naval Air Station Point Mugu. Driving to Ventura from the San Fernando Valley can be harsh on a Sunday. We found a little farming street to follow down to Point Mugu. It romances the beautiful Pacific Ocean. Which is why we were there.

My dad was a WWII Veteran. As kids we enjoyed fishing on the pier that is located on this naval base.

Husband and I sat in our car for sometime. Wondering if we could approach and visit the pier for old memories. We did. A tight solider asked for husband’s driving-license. As the solider was taking the license from husband, I explained my family story. Before you could think we were quickly told to make a U-turn. No good byes or safe journeys.

Point Mugu has since merged with nearby Naval Construction Battalion Center Port Hueneme to form Naval Base Ventura County (NBVC).

We ended up at Port Hueneme Historical Society Museum. A sweet little place that smelled pleasantly old! The building was filled with old women and older history items. Outside the rather small building were many monarch butterflies. Hub bobbing around ourselves like best friends. We were then told the story.

It sounds like a magical potion. Milk weed, Cosmo flowers and chrysalis. It was the story of how someone took the time to love the process of this lovely butterfly. All it takes is a little love and a few nasty weeds to attract the attention of nature’s finest beauties.

Today upon my waking up I enjoyed a very good dream. A dream I have been waiting for since my mother’s death. It was a closure dream. In this dream husband opened the front door to the usual UPS knock. There was another package, another calculus book, or similar book, for the kids. Then we heard another knock on the front door. This time I opened the door. From top to bottom the front door was filled with packages. My husband gave me a guilty look. A pouting praying mantis face.

“It is not Christmas time,” I said.

I pulled out one of the packages.  A large white one. A box that might conceal a dress or new pants. Then I saw on top the name ‘Holly’ written in cursive.

“How could mom give me this after her death?”

A wonderful gift from her. That is what mom would do. Write our names on top of our gifts. It was her writing…. I know it by heart!

Today has reached an illuminating place of thanksgiving.


Summer [27 Anniversary] Poem #2



Would you could you
travel miles and miles
for delicious deep-fried
artichoke hearts?

I wanna go to Castervile CA
and eat some deep-fried
artichoke hearts
with spicy mayonnaise.

Near the lovely coastal region
close to Moss Landing,
a fucking pint at The Whole Enchilada
with a shot of hot vodka
with my anniversary man.

Take a walk on the beach
Smell the garlic in the air
mixed with the salty smell of tide pools
under the earthy breaths of
golden-green eucalyptus trees.

Lovely multicolored Monarch butterfly 
sweet bites of yellow-white 
lemon margarine pie
Pacific Grove embraces
never-ending waves
breathless roller coaster rides.


Summer Poem # 1



My oasis
And cave.

Not reaching out
But reaching within.

Agathos daimon holds my heart
Humidity holds me back.

“Coninuctio” “in mercurio”
Planting seeds
Which do not ripen.

Outside my oasis
Seeds dry in the heat.

Inside the cave
I listen to Mercurius speak.

“The desires of the mind
Will take you nowhere.”


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.