May 1, 2006

• ElectricPoetry: Birthday Poems 2006

  I am penning this at 5:20 in the morning. It was about that time 53 years ago that I first entered the wonderful world. It seems like an eternity sometimes and sometimes it seems like it must have been just yesterday. I still remember lying under the apricot tree in the backyard the summer of my 12th year when I was hit with the epiphany that I should remember exactly where I was and what I was thinking, because that moment was special, and would never be repeated. I must have repeated that moment hundreds of times in my mind since then. On May 1, which, for those who still study and revere the pre Christian Pagan holidays, is known as Beltane, or the beginning of the pastoral summer season, I always seem to be re-energized and feel younger, rather than older, as I assess my life up to this point in time, and plan my future as much as I can. Thanks to my readers for the many birthday wishes and greetings. I awoke about an hour ago, and after nearly a week with a bad cold, my head is cleared, my breathing is normal, and my hopes are high. I wrote three new poems this morning, and I shall post them here. I haven’t been too prolific in a poetic sense so far this year, so hopefully, now at the almost midpoint, I might spill out a few more words, as I did just now. I made the composite image above for one of my earlier Birthday Posts, which can be found HERE. It includes a few of my previous “birthday poems.” For some reason, I’m always quite prolific around my birthday. Up until my mid forties, I never even cared about birthdays. After I turned 46, and created AllThingsMike, my “electronic persona” I haven’t been able to help notice the passing of each year. I still don’t regret this passing. There is always good to offset the bad, and always hope to outweigh the doubts. MFN

   

  “Birth Pangs and Pains”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © May 1, 2006 4:40 a.m. pdt

  Uncomfortable for months
  Excrutiating for hours
  Intensely and unconscionably painful
  A mother releases her secret from the womb
  stretching her own vaginal walls
  to their almost breaking point
  can life be any more intense than this?
  then scant moments later
  the pain of immediacy
  after nine long months in existential hibernation
  screams as life’s call
  the beginning again
  soft wrinkly skin
  still attached to the feeding tube
  :then released
  with a sharp cut and cry
  two as one
  during gestation,
  then the subtraction of one from the other
  the eternal equation
  adding, multiplying, dividing
  sending life to it’s own reward
  the mother sighs
  whether the first or the fifth
  the pains and powerful emotions
  drain the soul for a moment
  then fill it with wonder astounding
  after the cries and the distressing
  after the sighs and the blessings
  new life exists with all life
  now and as it should be
  forever

   

  “Assessment”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © May 1, 2006 4:54 a.m. pdt

  I am one with my universe
  again and forever unbounding
  I feel younger as I do each year
  at this time
  when the morning emerges from the fading dark
  sometimes shyly
  and sometimes with nature’s fury
  as if in birth ever increasing

  I speak of the lines on my face
  and the lines on my page
  I breathe with the breath of fresh air
  renewal, fulfillment, ecstasy
  sadness for the loss of friendship and family
  a short silence for those lost
  and a loud hurrah for those with whom 
  I yet do not bear aquaintence

  The years have transfused in the blender of time
  swirling insatiable, coupling indeteminate
  Memory spites the truth
  And the truth laughs at dire existence
  with a snort and chuckle
  We are all here
  and I, locked in the bower of time’s threshold
  without a key,
  call for help
  and dispense wisdom simultaneously
  Fools we are all and fools we die
  all encompassing emerging and encouraging
  slitting the throats of trepidation
  one minute
  and basking in the glory of
  God’s love and munificence the next
  and sometimes the moments,
  like the years,
  are mixing in the blender
  and appearing at the same time
  time immemorial
  time which might, at hence time
  run out, but e’en when this occurs
  life’s assesment never stops it’s course
  through the folded pages of the mind

  I am one with my universe
  again and forever unbounding
  I remain older from a physical standpoint
  but I crave the capability
  of learning that
  I will never know all
  as I reach out to
  touch humanity’s face once more
  

  “Too Much to Love”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © May 1, 2006 5:06 a.m. pdt

  
  I forgive the transgressors
  and the pillars of society
  embracing hubris as if
  it were the blood of life

  I embrace the fools and the fallacies
  of financial ruin, give me time
  and it will all be paid off eventually

  Time is an invention of
  immediate need
  and longtime purpose
  growing in understanding
  and yet losing precious minutes

  Nature’s lands and growth
  flora and fauna
  put aside the road of man’s intentions
  barrelling fast and knowledgeless
  into the abyss
  building homes and business
  without heed to the
  eventual price

  “They paved paradise
  and put up a parking lot”

  All is not lost
  It won’t be
  and it can’t be
  the ink on the keyboard
  fades with the words
  typed over
  and over
  again

  All the same questions
  come neatly packaged
  in painful prerogatives.
  All the same wonders
  come wandering back
  to the fold

  My heart and my soul
  reach out as in the past,
  and the future,
  in the mind, and in the
  fickle sense of purpose

  Sometimes I
  think I
  love too much
  and sometimes I think
  I don’t know how to love

  Will you teach me?

   Edit: 7:44 pm pdt. Thanks to every one who commented and wished me a happy birthday today and throughout this past week. I can’t think of a better present (at the moment, at least) than to have read all these wishes throughout the day. I wanted to add that I didn’t notice this before, but I’m 53 and I was born in 1953. I usually catch things like that right away. I must be slipping. (Or, dare I say it. I’m getting….Nay, I shall not say the word.)  MFN.

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