Biography of Cornelia Ceilings
Brought up in a secluded village, this poet had alot of time with her own thoughts. She grew suicidal in her teenage years, hence the taste of nihilism in her poetry. The lucid images often come from her childhood nightmares, which were bloody and generally murderous. She graduated from the University of Witwaterstrand in South Africs with a PhD in Tribal Religious Studies. This came after her work as a wartime nurse in WW2, where the bloodshed only added to her disturbed psyche. She is a devout buddhist, despite her odd tendencies to nihilism. She worked in a convent in the early fifties, simply to ridicule the ritualistic christian practice, but was kicked out after 6 years of service. Since then she has worked in a corner shop in Yemen, selling sewing machines and horseshoes. Her poetry comes as a single old woman, who has had a stunningly varied life. She is working on an autobiography at the moment, but health is failing fast for this old wench and she hopes that she will make it.
Cornelia Ceilings Poems
Ode To A Simple Meal
Blest be the loaves Which gave thee sight to hear My song of culinary magnificence.
The Broken Shoulder
Soporific, transient images float; the shooting pain keeps me vivid as Delauney, except my palette is pain not paint. The limp head hangs
The Unfortunate Beak
What are you to do when you see a dead duck, Its wings snapped like a coffee stirrer in Starbucks, Its intestine exploded like vomit on Sunday morning, And its beak, broken from its face?
Everyone Loves Reay
Reay Reay is a ray of sunshine in our gloomy day lighting us up, like a cigarette before the smoking ban
The Purple Cast
A breath is not a word A whisper is not a sentence Pain is not a paragraph But Pride and Prejudice do make a book
The Unfortunate Beak
What are you to do when you see a dead duck,
Its wings snapped like a coffee stirrer in Starbucks,
Its intestine exploded like vomit on Sunday morning,
And its beak, broken from its face?
Its eyes are like fried eggs,
Conspiring against the metaphorical bacon that is its feet.
Poor little duck, no longer can he quack,
If only he had just quacked off.