March 25, 2005





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    "Easter Basket '92"



    Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
    April 17, 1992 11:34 a.m.


    This has always been the time to reflect
    This has always been a time of ponderous thought
    Look back on the years
    My there have almost been forty
    And I don't yet know if I'm happy or not.


    Lover's little stranger grew up hungry
    And holidays speed by with rapid ease
    Did I e'er feel love?
    Was I indeed happy?
    And will the coming years my heart appease?


    Happy Easter it's another day
    Preconceptions always
    Get in the way


    Christ is arisen and the end's not here yet
    And will I be happy or lose the
    last bet?


    This has always been the time to think
    My life has been full and precise
    I did everything I ever wanted
    I reaped wild vast rewards
    But somehow I can't break the ice.



    "Pat Answers Gives She None"



    Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
    July 21st, 1992 8:00 p.m.



    Every "monthiversary" it's the same
    I feel so distant from you.


    Is it me?


    You turn your back and hug the
    Teddy Bear I gave you
    When I wanted hugs from you.


    Is it all a game
    Do you laugh at me as you plot
    the next move.


    I wanted your love
    But it's all turning to sh*t.


    I want it to end but I'm afraid
    to ask you.


    You'll haunt me
    I feel you'll drain me
    You'll kill me.


    I don't know wht else to give you.
    And you never answer one
    question which matters.



    "Walks Away Blues"



    Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
    June 5, 1993 1:53 p.m.


    A tarnished memory goes walking out the door
    Doesn't want to say goodbye
    As she stares down at the floor
    She closes emotion in my face
     and turns away again
    My tears well up an cloud my eyes
     to cover up the pain


    I dreamed you all; a perfect love
    A life so rare and true
    Imagination breeds release
    And covers up my blue
    But when she walked away that day
    She took my last shred of sanity
    And as I looked into the mirror
    Laughed at broken vanity


    I love you all; still waiting
    My life always felt debilitating
    And as I climb the stairs to go to bed
    I do regret the times I
    felt better off dead


    She never left, the memory
    never lived here
    And I had really nothing left
    to fear here.



    "Sometime Before Noon"



    Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
    October 04, 1994


    Last night the cards were on the table
    A terrible hand from beneath a bleak fable.
    You threw me the curve ball
    it hit my heart hard
    And now I have no feelings and I can't say a word.


    My Pat, my sweet love, with your traumas and anger
    Sometimes I feel lost and in imminent danger
    You're right, I've gone mental, I live in your shadow
    And I can't smile or hum the right tune.


    All things go wrong if you want them to
    I've always been destructive and I think
    you have been too!


    And we collide with our attitudes, blame,
    and regrets
    Instead of opening arms and jumping in
    to get wet.


    I only wanted to be everything you
    ever wanted
    Not realizing that you didn't know what
    you wanted.


    "I Should Just Be Gone When You Get Back Pt. 1"



    Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
    November 2, 1994 10:45 P.M.



    It's so hard to let you go
    I feel so stupid that I hang on
    I should clear my throat
    and spit you out
    But I try to act like nothing's happened
    like it's all the same
      another flare-up
      another calm
    another better day
     I refused to believe the better
     day never came
     I listened but did not hear
    And as the years passed
    I didn't read between the lines.
     Now the book has ended
     and I cannot relate the plot
    The pages dogeared and past prime
     And I sit on the daybed
     in the garage full of "my stuff"
    As you say "I'm going out"


    I should just be gone when you get back.


    Dear Pat
    You act like I shouldn't exist
    You glare at me and become angry


    I know it's the end


    Goodbye


    I left the light on to guide your way


    (BEHIND THE POETRY: I think of Pat on Easter because she always tried to explain that even though she didn't really "celebrate" holidays, she used to perform Easter Egg Hunts with her children when they were small. When I and Pat were together, we would spend Easters in San Clemente if the weather was nice, like Good Friday is right now. I might have posted the last poem in this particular series here on WhenWordsCollide in a past Pat Poems Post, but it serves as a nice poem to end this series with. I was with Pat from late 1991 through May of 1995, and lived with here from 1992 to 1995 in three separate homes. She never could "settle down" at a time in my life in which I was trying desperately to do just that. MFN 03/25/05)

Comments (15)

  • Maybe it is just time for the mood swing of the day, but I actually liked this set of poems.  I don't know why.

  • I love the poetry as always, Mike. I'm sorry about Pat... I know how it must have felt to have someone who couldn't "settle down". I hope you have a good weekend, my friend.

  • Dear Michael,
    "My life always felt debilitating" this line really spoke to me. The complexity of your poems allows you to capture so much, yet you remain fresh and...understated. I'm learning... 
     Stacey

  • M,

    Thanks for the Great Comment on my site about memory. I really appreciate the time and effort.

    Kudos!

    Sail on... sail on!!!

  • "But I try to act like nothing's happened
    like it's all the same
      another flare-up
      another calm
    another better day"

    ... just add "another bruise" and you have the story of my life!

    Damn, I wish you'd warn me before you go rooting around in my head!

    Dare I wish you a blessed Easter? Yes, I do believe I will. Take care, my friend.

  • Dearest Mike....
    I loved all the poems
    but the last one...most awesome emotionality here
    you have such a way with words and emotions
    have a sweet weekend

  • your poems and your note are really quite evocative and most moving - they touch upon a similar time I had, and thus I find them hitting home. Can't say more, really - I'm a bit speechless

  • Michael,

    First of all thank you so much for the insightful and complimentary comment on my site My teacher tells my film class that it's better to do few things well than many with mediocrity, but I would really like to do many things well. Time does seem to run away with itself when I wish it would linger a bit though.

    On the subject of your pieces, my personal favorite of the list is the last one, for the book metaphor which I see too many times in cliched ways but seems new here. The way you did it is quite clever and the common thread holds the piece well intsead of becoming boring and used. Bravo.

    ~V

  • Mike,

    I enjoyed each of these, but the last one was superior. The mood, the combining of words in just the right way, the flow .............. YES.

  • Hey Mike - thanks for the comment...and I am going to tell her.  It isn't even the pot and drink i think most of us have had our share...it's that he sounds so very lost and if it were my baby i would want to know.

  • Most religious poetry leaves me cold, there is nothing more embarrassing than poems about a belief that one does not share. But I love your "Easter Basket" poem. Love them all, you are one of those I think of when people say to me that internet poetry is all crap. What bullshit, we are at the forfront of culture, not those dull university blokes with painted hearts.

  • Dear Michael,

    Thank you so much for the kind words you left.  I really appreciate it!  You are so sweet to say such nice things. It really means a lot to me.

    Thank you again for everything, and I hope you have a Blessed Easter, too!

    (((Hugs))) P.S.  Thanks for sharing all the wonderful and touching poems you do here!:goodjob:

  • Greetings and salutations,

    Thank you for leaving the comment behind, and having you in my blogring would be to say the least, an honor. I don't think it really as a blogring of the elite or some nonsense like that. It's really just a collection of people who enter it because they believe they love literature even if they are not crazed literary geeks such as myself or qiute possibly even yourself. Thanks for visiting my site. It's good to have you around. Your site is still as interesting as always.

    If only Xanga wouldn't restrict the number of blogrings members can join.

    -Lord Oscar Durant

  • "If you look at other schools and our benchmarks, we just don't compete.

  • POWER INITIAL QUALITY STUDY RESULTS ARE IN.

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