September 27, 2004
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Credit Roll Blues
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
© February 7, 1983 4:35 p.m.
Your face disappeared on a soft summer’s night
Ever shimmering shades in dark blue
Passion passed on as the memories grew soft
Love left no mark on the dew
In my cynical eye I remember no time
Ever right time for love or for truth
Condemned like a bad actor to live it again
Stumbling through shards of my youth.
The times they became like a nostalgic dream
E’en your eye color fades with decay
I remember I loved someone who looked like you
And dead petals they litter the way
Can a dream become real
Can a poem beackon love
Did you exist as just part of the pain?
Condemned like a bad actor to live it again
And no light ever shines through the rain.
Your face disappeared on a soft summer’s eve
Ever flickering shapes on a screen
The movie was over the people could leave
And forget all that they had just seen.
State of Mind
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
© February 7, 1983 3:35 p.m.
I might feel happy, I might feel real sad
Think life is ripe, think all the vibes are bad
Might feel a surge, a rich romantic hold
Might feel as if my turgid soul is sold.
It’s all as if I have my own detector
But the knob fell off of the channel selector
Don’t send your love to the P.O. box this time
Because I no longer live in my own
State of Mind.
I glimpse the children playing on the street
No misdirection clawing at their tiny feet
I claw my brain, a lump climbs up my throat
They look so happy but I just missed the boat
It’s all as if I am my own detractor
I lost the device to measure this important factor
Don’t look me up if you’re afraid of what you find
Because I lost the address to my own
State of Mind.
I might stay quiet, I might say a lot
I might think it’s right but the meaning’s not
Might lose the grasp to my own solutions
While wading through the mire of the others’ pollutions
It’s all as if I don’t care what’s correct or
Maybe lost the keys to my own private sector.
Don’t call my number cause there’s no one on the line
Because I’m tearing up the map to my own
State of Mind.
(A couple of poems from the year 1983, when I was 30 years of age, and one of my more “prolific” years, with 35 poems.)
Comments (6)
wonderful poems..the first one got me, im going through a crazy time right now, and it reminded me of that..playing the images of that person over and over again in my head..missing them, but knowing some things in life arent meant to be
Kinda neat to read a poem about PO Boxes and phone calls – not a mention of e-mails or blog sites. Cheers.
:rolleyes:Well Mike you already know…I am drawn to the first one cause I am a woman it it is oh so Romantic in a sad way.
the second poem to me…speaks a lot of bieng reflective…just absorbing life as it is
I love reading your words..they make you as a person more alive
hmmm wink
hi mike…I love the second one…
“Don’t call my number cause there’s no one on the line
Because I’m tearing up the map to my own
State of Mind.” mainly this line…am going through a process like this…beautiful poems you write!!!!!
Love from Holland!!!!!!
Hey Mike!:wave:
You have a really great gift of expression! I find it hard sometimes expressing things in words. I’ve always like to paint things out instead.
Of course, I haven’t painted in a while in the real world. It’s only been painting some in cyberspace with web graphics whenever I’m able to do so, but I always have to pace how long on the net nowadays, and it’s hard to get everything done that I want and need to do since I have to pace myself.
I just got through posting a super long comment and your other posting from before. Sorry it took me a while to get back again on here. I hope and pray everything will be better there soon!!
Hugs!!!
Shara
Two excellent poems, Mike. I kind of favor the first one. “Condemned like a bad actor to live it again” is a great line. Peace.