June 4, 2005
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ElectricPoetry Post
The above “graphical poem” version of “Large and Empty House” (© 1995) is an example of how I used to present my poetry on my website. I created this one especially for Xanga, and in honor of my first year on the service, I am reposting this graphical poem which was my July 17, 2004 entry. It received 5 comments, and unless you’ve been wandering among my older posts, you probably haven’t seen it. Some of the poems in today’s belated ElectricPoetry entry have also been presented before, but a while back and with few comments. Those that have been online here on the blog (They’re all online on the ElectricPoetry Site, in chronological order!) are noted “Previously posted,” with the date and the sequential number in which the poem appeared. “Large and Empty House” was the 15th poem I posted on this Xanga blog. The composite consists of a photo of a cottage I shot on Nantucket Island, and the lovebirds, which symbolize Pat’s and My birds Poppy and Tweety, were taken from the web. The poem is one of “The Pat Poems” and is about my relationship after I had already moved into the garage, and Pat was seeing the other guy in the evenings after she got off work on her second job.
This is the first poem I ever wrote, at the age of 14. The series of poems was supposed to be “humorous” but is actually quite interesting for a first poem, and doesn’t seem humorous at all.
“A Chlorophyll Filled Death”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
© 1967
I am a leaf, blowing in the wind,
I am a sturdy, yet failing leaf.
I am alive,
But why ——— I live because of
The chlorophyll
Wrapped in my digestive tract –
Of a leaf!
I will live and keep on living,
Until I die.
When?
A question — How long is a leaf’s life –
LONG?
or SHORT?
Death is slowly creeping upon me,
Yet I feel no death.
DIE ———————————–
Yet I feel the wind will bring my fate.
A fate, but an adventure.
Here I feel I will be gone before the morn.
WHEN.
It is here. A wind. A breeze.
————-I am dead—————-
“Sonnet Two”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
© 1970
Tis an awesome pity that you would shun
This love of mine which I direct
Upon you – should my will be done,
My futile thoughts could then dissect.
As Pygmalion modeled his statue great,
I would, could I have you to pose.
I’ve tried to leave it up to fate,
And gain your love, but I’ve gained woes.
You stand so tall in your unknown world,
While I still watch with hopes to pry
Apart your cell into which I’ve hurled
My passion deep, and words I cry.
Till Earth shall end, and void be long.
The feeling’s there, “My love is wrong.”
“Leaves of Paper” (Previously Posted 7/09/04-8)
poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
© March 5th, 1982 2:00pm
Falling, ever falling toward the purity, the past
Preserving present pain with such a flourish
How can one resolve oneself
With battered books on lonely shelves
And drink the water of the times we nourish
Touching, ever touching hearts of peace in times of war
Giving us another life to cherish
I am special so are you
I’ve never tried to feel so blue
And cause of leaves of paper I shant perish
I can love you
Oft I do
I can remember sweeter days
The pictures represent such art
Recounting somber ways
I will consider
Listen now
I’ve said I’d quite forgotten how
But leaves of paper can’t quite
fasten to the bough
Hurling, I am hurling all my life with such a force
Striving to touch you and I am hurting
All I ever tried to touch
I’ve felt such pain but it ain’t much
With life through leaves of paper I am flirting
The following poem was written in 1990 about a gal who worked the sales desk at a wire and cable company in Las Vegas, one of my company’s vendors. Alyssa and I used to get pretty racy on the phone when I was placing an order, and I went out to visit her for one summer weekend. This was written after I got back home after seeing her. We didn’t hit it off, but the poem is still pretty good, and actually was first part of a letter I sent to her.
“Kismet’s Holiday”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
© September 3, 1990 1:15 a.m.
If words could tell you all you need to know right now
I wish the fates would grant me words to say.
A lasting friendship needs a bond. Please see how
A knowing glance or smile comes into play.
Thank you for a moment’s dreams to heal,
Thank you so sincerely for what bonds
We might now feel.
A few hundred miles or a talk on the phone
I have looked to your eyes for the
Power they own.
If love were just a word and not a feeling
I’d say I love you now before the day fades by
It would be impossible for me to say I do not
Care for you
Because I see in you a purpose, and
Hear heartquestions breathe a sigh.
Hear me, gentle spirit, I have not the words
You see.
Hear me, dear Alyssa, with all due sincerity
If two souls can touch in heaven, all
attendant emotion breeds elation and mirth
I reach out for a moment and wonder
Could I ever touch your soul on Earth?
I see your pout, I feel your pain,
Your life’s frustration
I’m an old brick wall but I want to learn
imagination
I hope to help you see I’m not too
rigid in my ways
Thank you for your stories and your smile
Thank you so sincerely for memories
to last me for a while
I did not know what to expect
of you dear
But my feeling confirms you have
nothing to fear.
“Inspiring Attitude” (previously posted 07/14/04-13)
poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
© Wednesday, July 14, 2004 5:40 p.m.
The bad news rifles through the day’s serenity, causing
Innumerable calamities to settle in the conscious, knowing
Nothing we can possibly do will matter in the morning
When we wake to another day filled with dire circumstance.
Depression, early warning signs are the daily tears
Which cause emotion to flow unabated as we drown our fears
Nothing we can entertain shall rid us of the inanity
As we fill our petty lives with the terrors of existence.
But the sun shines, and the clouds elicit pretty patterns.
The flowers give sweet aromas irregardless of the reasons
Boiling in our heads as we face each phase of seasons
Bubbling in our hearts as we strive to find the answers
Life seems boring, and samenesses shadow the shallow
Repetition of petty policies as our fantasies lie fallow
The bad news and the nagging inconsistencies arrive
At unbridled speeds save for our needs don’t feel alive
There are little tricks we play, to survive the day, alone
Malificent maligned muse memory gives us the answers, seeming prone
To offer experience a welcome hand, and friendship is our peace
Yet nothing we did today can bid the reaper solace
A friendly smile or a hearty laugh causes happiness
A word or a deed done without thought to oneself
Can cause the downtrodden and lonely to come down from the shelf
And open their hearts to the wonder all around them.
Inspiring Attitude arrives at opportune times,
To bid the collective grief goodbye,
And let each of us know there is a specialness
Ingrained in each mind, and heart, and hand
As the hourglass gives up it’s last grain of sand
A little joy can be spread upon the land
Comments (13)
:rolleyes:Somehow I like the “Chlorophyll Filled Death”.:rolleyes: I guess because it is the way life is ….. :sunny: Hope you are having a great day ! :rolleyes: Thoughts through the looking glass Karolyn @-}-}–
Michael,
Your poems have such an amazing flow, I’m still trying to capture that in my work. I believe my favorite was Leaves of Paper. It really resonated with me. Thank you for always sharing your soul with us!
Stacey
Too much sadness here, my honey! I realize it’s the theme today, but oh! I hope you haven’t chosen this set of poems to reflect your present emotional mood – go out, have some fun tonight, be jolly, be silly, be a reveler in joyous spirit. You deserve everything! You, the one who goes about, supporting, giving, being kind and wonderful to everyone, “Spread[ing] joy upon the land…”
Or is it me, my melancholy mood that I’m seeing reflected?
*hugs xo
I like the presentation of the House…
great poems.
I LOVED “Leaves of Paper” because I could see it visually like a sheet of paper falling and curling and doing loops in the air as if it were a leaf falling from a tree.
Dear Karolyn, “Chorophyll Filled Death” was rewritten in 1971 as Depression II. The metaphor for each life as a leaf is elaborated in pagan religions, but I hardly knew it when I wrote the poem. Now rebirth and regeneration is a theme I come back to again and again.
Dear Stacey, The title “Leaves of Paper” is of course a play on Whiman’s “Leaves of Grass”. Notice too, that the poems are characterized as “leaves” and my first poem compares life to a leaf.
Dear Brenda, I wasnt’ necessarily thinking of a “sadness post”. The “saddest poem I have ever written” is the graphical poem, but I am merely attepmting to choose some “random poems” from different time frames. There are poems from each decade in this post. “Inspiring Attitude”, written last year, is a postive poem, proclaiming
“Inspiring Attitude arrives at opportune times,
To bid the collective grief goodbye,
And let each of us know there is a specialness
Ingrained in each mind, and heart, and hand
As the hourglass gives up it’s last grain of sand
A little joy can be spread upon the land”
Dear Catbert, and Souled Out, Thank you . I’ll have to come and visit your blog “souled out” I do believe this is your first comment here.
Dear Anita. I did pick “Leaves of Paper” for the metaphor. I call these types of poems the series of “another poem about writing poetry. Usually they were written in the midst of a “drought” and there were a few “droughts” in the 80s. I didn’t even write poetry in ’85, ’85, ’88, or ’89. “Leaves of Paper” is one of my own favorites of my work.
Michael F. Nyiri, poet, philosopher, fool
I like Kismet Holiday.
Isn’t it funny how two people can get on like a house on fire when they talk on the phone or email, but then when they finally meet, they don’t have that spark in person. Life can be so odd.
I like the way the first poem is presented w/ the graphic too. That’s cool.
Faith
Dear Mike:
You kind words and condolences are very much appreciated… and thank you for the subscription.
It terrifies me beyond belief that I have lost two friends to senseless violence in less than 3 years. If I lived in a large city, I would feel the odds were not so out there… but as you’ve mentionned yourself, our small town is one that would seem safe and hidden from the violence in the world today. This is the 5th homicide in my small town this year… all unrelated. And one of probably 10 (some missing spersons which are certainly homicides as they’ve never returned and never been seen) in the last 3 years total. Its getting worse and worse when even a small town like ours is starting to rival cities in homicide and missing persons counts.
I think having dealt with losing Hazel in such a senseless act of violence has helped me to know how to deal with losing Matt in another violent act. I have handled it much better this time around. I just pray that they will quickly find and deal with Matt’s killer(s), so his family may be at peace. Although he was a rough-around the edges fellow, and a wild one at 21, he was an amazing person to those who were his friends… He was a bit of a wanderer, who came in and out of my life when fate allowed. He never stayed in one spot… but he always popped out of the woodwork when you least expected it. Strangely enough I ran into him several times a month over the last few months since I became pregnant… he had told me recently that he was also expecting a child of his own. And he was more than excited for me and Brad… he told me he knew I would be a great Mom.
I just can’t grasp the idea that I will not run into him…. he will not pop out of the woodwork anymore… although he was not a part of my daily life, he was a large part of my life at one point (high school) and continued to remain a surprise entrant into my days when I least expected it… He was just one of those friends you don’t completely lose touch with, no matter what, and when you meet again, its like nothing has changed…
Anyway, I apologize for the long comment… I got carried away in sorting out my own thought here. I just wanted to explain a little bit about Matt to you… I’m not sure I quite made my thoughts clear as I typed, and apologize if this comment is confusing, but as you may expect I am not quite myself at the moment, and my frame of mind has been knocked askew by recent events and memories.
Thank you again,
MsDezz
Mike, I stopped by to thank you for your vote of confidence and was blessed by your poems. Thank you for bringing me in touch with my emotions.
My poem on the three-headed Goliaths site has had 4 comments in 5 days dispite a lot of comments FROM that site.
The sad poem is so like what I write, I find it hard to write happy, I guess I am a depressing guy. Liked the last poem very much too,
very very talented i see. I will return.
Oh, i am torn between applause and tears. Such a fantastic job of expression once again Michael dear. But i cannot escape the facts that the words aren’t just poems for poetry’s sake; they are alive, paragraphs from your heart and soul, and all that you have gone through in life. Large And Empty House tore at my heart. I have felt all those very same things within my own life, all those agonies and emptiness. I am so sorry that happened to you, you are such a fine hearted man. As usual, a very fine piece or writting, i only wish it hadn’t had to be a snapshot from your life.
A Chlorophyll Filled Death spoke of the immediacy of life uncertainties to me. We really cannot know moment to moment what life will bring or remove from us. Like that leaf, so are we, and the gentlest of breezes can all too quickly open an adventure or the end. You have done a marvelous job, i love that one.
“Tis an awesome pity that you would shun
This love of mine which I direct
Upon you – should my will be done,
My futile thoughts could then dissect.”
ah, the words are so surgically to the point it hurts. Sonnet Two also tore at my heart, and for all the same reasons Large And Empty House did. So well written, so deeply expressive, another fine work of poetry Michael.
Leaves Of Paper actually brought tears to my eyes. So touching. As i read, an image of you supperimposed itself over the text, words matching actions, and the heart and soul of the words. Precious.
Kismet’s Holiday was so honest, so open. And quite beautiful. You have oft said to me that your poetic spring has ‘run dry’. Perhaps it isn’t quantity that is most important, but much more a treasure for these lovely words to well up with a depth and fragrance that comes but once in a while. That makes them a thousand times more precious to my thoughts.
Inspiring Attitude was incredible. The whole piece spoke a huge chord of truth to me, and there were two parts that especially touched my heart:
“There are little tricks we play, to survive the day, alone
Malificent maligned muse memory gives us the answers, seeming prone
To offer experience a welcome hand, and friendship is our peace
Yet nothing we did today can bid the reaper solace”
i can add nothing to this but to solemnly agree.
“Inspiring Attitude arrives at opportune times,
To bid the collective grief goodbye,
And let each of us know there is a specialness
Ingrained in each mind, and heart, and hand
As the hourglass gives up it’s last grain of sand
A little joy can be spread upon the land”
That Universal Mind… a spark of specialness, flinted from that great collective Higher Power, yes. It is an inspiration in itself to know we can bid grief goodbye knowing this, knowing that there is a special freedom and joy in that knowledge, isn’t there? Beautiful as always Michael. You trully are a wonderful poet and philosopher. Thank you for sharing all of these.
~Lynxkatt