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       If I ever write any kind of autobiography, I already know the names of some of the chapters: "By the Light of the Alarm Clock," and "1001 Car Problems."    The former title will be for the chapter of my high school years, whereas the latter is both a recommendation from a friend, and not too far from the truth.      Here's where I start my "kids these days" posts.  When I was in high school, I spent hours and hours reading and writing.  If I was supposed to be in bed, but the Muse was flowing, I ended up writing by the light of my very cacophonous alarm clock, sometimes for a few hours.  That's what I was doing-- not playing the next eighteen levels of candy crush, not in an online "chat room" having hidden conversations with complete strangers, not binge-watching rated M TV shows.  I was reading that one last chapter, learning more Elvish, listing my woes in a diary, or...

     I have been doing lots and lots of purging and reorganizing of late, and it turns out that I have written so much more in the last four years than I realized.  With every box of papers that I open and every notebook I go through, I keep finding more and more bits of stuff.  I really love silly verse, and apparently I have more of it than I remembered.  In addition to creating separate word documents for the more ambitious and lengthy pieces, I also have a growing multi-page document for the small pieces and the scraps of verse that I keep finding.  For instance, this piece was written in March of 2016: An Ode to IOWA's O fair and radiant standardized test, You shine so bright, thou art the best! We are with your fair presence blest, As I chill with thee at my state's behest.          Can you guess I was working in standardized testing when I wrote this?  There is so much more where ...

     After many weeks of sadly believing this poem to be lost, I finally found it when clearing out old emails.  Hip hip hooray!  This is one of my two proudest parody-poem moments (the other being "beowulf slept in a gory meadhall").  This is modeled after the poem "Sonnet 43," by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Sonnets from the Percolator 43: O Coffee Bean How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the mill and roaster, too. My hand shall reach when morning comes anew For a mug and spoon (I'm still in a daze). I love thee as thou ridst me of morning's haze, Most wond'rous drink, celestial nectar-brew. I love thee deeply: other drinks I eschew. I love thee madly: it's more than just a craze. I love thee with or without white cow juice Or sugar cane, or sweet and tempting snack. I love thee so much more than chocolate mousse! When I've sipp'd, the aroma beckons me back. Morning, night, all the day long, I...

     This is possibly my proudest writing moment.  My friend Liz is to be given credit for the opening lines, as she said in Anglo-Saxon Lit. class one day, "Anyone lived in a gory meadhall/ with up so floating many word-hoards."  That was in the spring of 2014.  Many months later, these words came to mind and I decided to go the whole hog.  The structure and rhyme scheme are taken from E. E. Cummings' "anyone lived in a pretty how town," and the story (surprise) is Beowulf.  Enjoy! beowulf slept in a gory meadhall -- g c connolly -- beowulf slept in a gory meadhall (with up so floating many word-hoards) ring, hrothgar, monster, bone-house he swam his didn't he slew his did Wiglaf and men (both bulky and frail) sailed with beowulf, road of whale they mourned their isn't, wish't heorot freed sword, helm, torque, mead grendel gulped (but only a few and down he forgot as tempers flew geat, munching, arm, grap...

     I thought about it, and realized that maybe I should put all my poems as posts, as I have enough to crowd the page section.      Below is something I wrote in the summer last year, right around the time of the solar eclipse.  We were having some trouble with our dishwasher, which was annoying me immensely.  Naturally, my response was to write a mini-mock-epic.  (As it turns out, the last line is true: we noticed a big difference once we switched to a fancier detergent.)  I may write some more about the other episodes involving inconveniences in our home. Saga of the Dishwasher Part IV: It Had Better Work This Time... Sing O Muse of that house in the Mews And of its inhabitants, partial to cleanliness! Such lovers of crumb-lessness, and haters of messiness Did encounter a hardship with their washer of dishes. The fickleness of Maytag shall be known by all-- So listen up, all of y'all! ...