May 6, 2008
-
ElectricPoetry Post: New transcriptions from 1978
The Cathy Poems: New Transcriptions from 1978
All these poems were written in October through December 1978 for Cathy, and are part of the few poems which have not yet been transcribed to the 1978 section on the ElectricPoetry website, so this is the first time they have been presented online. I fell in love with Cathy at the age of 25, and I wrote her 60 poems in order to win her heart, which didn’t happen. These are among the last of the poems I wrote for her.
“Secrets”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Sept. 26, 1978 7:00 p.m. pdtThere’s a kind of a person I’d like to know
The kind with whom you share secrets
The kind you know you can trust
And the kind who respects
Your privacy.
I’ve looked for 25 years
And no one have I found
With whom I can share my secrets
So I don’t know how it’s done
And I share my secrets
With everyoneI think I’ve found a kind of person
The kind with whom you share secrets
The kind you know you can trust
And the kind who believes
in you
I’ve been looking a long long time
And if it’s true that it is you
Then you can trust me with your secrets
And I can learn how it is done
With just you I’ll share my secrets
Not ever
anymore
anyone.“Untitled XII”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
October, 1978 7:00a.m. pstI guess I was wrong
and I should stop fighting
We were never meant to beBut I’ll tape my heart
And brave the world
Tho’ emotion pours a seaI still feel a love
So deep and so close
Though you can’t try anymoreI knew long ago
I would lose the game
I’m afraid to look at the scoreYou can turn me off
And say good bye
And turn the other wayBut hope holds on
And it cries for you
Cause it’ll always be that wayEveryone knows
What I feel for you
And why I’ll cry new tearsAnd I hope you gained
A little something at least
To last you through the yearsThe poems won’t stop
You can’t help but inspire
You always did that to meBut I guess I was wrong
As you pointed out
Quite emphaticallyI always said
I only wanted
What was best for you, my dearAnd I’ll heed your advice
Not try to love you so hard
But it’ll be a long road, I fear“Thanksgiving Thoughts”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Thanksgiving, Nov. 23, 1978 12noon pstWhat is wrong? he asks again
As if the ball is always fumbled, and nobody can win
Who controls the situation?
Is there someone who monitors infatuation
Why can’t I “thank you for you” once more
I care, I’m just too moody; I can’t cope
I cleaned the apartment. Who was that for?
Next I might give up the dope.You smiled and you said, “everything’s all right.”
I broke down and said “force me to hate you.”
“Give me an answer. Show me something to fight”
And I try and I try to berate you.I just can’t be patient, I guess, my dear
I don’t want to scare you away
Calm my shaking hand, erase all my fear
Cast off my sense of decayI try to much to understand
Why you make every move that you make
I’m ashamed that I feel bad
when you take my hand
Cause I’m feeling the future’s at stakeWhat is wrong? he asks again
I always make too much of a din
I scream and I cry. I’m a selfish fool
And I know I want to break every rule
But I’ll wait – I’m your puppet
you hold the strings
I will try only to savor what little you bring.
“Mended Still Screaming”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Dec. 20, 1978 7:00p.m. pstThe arms enfold the essence of emotion and squeeze
yet nothing holds the pain nor yearning
The arms cross defeated above the breast
Heart beating faster in a skipping time
You’ve said many things and you wonder
What words would win – which phrases were perfect
On what wasted paragraphs did you spend so much time
The eyes close and tighten
Her face looked like – on that night – when
When –
Exploratory groping eyes to the head
When – “those darting eyes” – rememberThe words disappeared in the slush
After last night’s rain cleared the air
Remembrances are holy – and wholly false
I can never say “I know what you are feeling.”
You never know people no matter what you think.The wrist turns out another torrent of
ink-stained papers – poetry – “heart-imaginings”
The broken heart is mended still screaming
“I love her, I love her – It’s so strong.”
You wait with your hand – the same one
which wrote the poetry – poised
over the telephone receiver
Do I dare call -
just to know
what she is thinking
No- heartaches can come on her time
She always feels so good giving them anyway.The mind remembers all it wanted to say
But the words won’t come out the same
Tears take too long in coming – and were they
really for her or for you?
Did you cry yourself to sleep last night?No one knows how I feel
Not even her
And I wish I knew how to explain it
I wish I could explain her actions
Her feelings – I wishRemember when it meant something?
Remember when she became afraid
And locked you out of her life foreverYou’d be mad at anyone else
(Even your friends chide you)
The broken heart is mended still screaming
“I love her, I love her – It’s so strong.”
“A Portrait”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
12-20-78 7:15p.m. pstDear Cathy, I may not be the only one
enraptured by your charms
Sweet one, there might be hundreds hurt
with your innocent harm
I hear you sighing, pray to God, why
are you like you are
But no one answer, and solutions
seem so very farEmerging unscathed, never -
Every little wound inflicts great pain
You continually ask why people have to get hurt –
You know you are lucky – but you are not
As long as you hold others dear
- Real life taught you nothing
Save that everybody is out to stab each other
in the back –
And you try to change this to no avail -
When you give advice everyone smirks
And you know you’re right –
But nobody cares to listen.
So why talk at all?You were blessed with a beautiful personality –
And it’s a shame life has taught you
To inject it with venom sometimes –
But most of the time –
You wish you could relax
Take some time out from the schedule
And sit back.Nobody lets you – You barely have time to
be alone –
You think about it – you never have time to
be alone -
Chores – errands – friendships – commitmentsAnd you feel like life is fleeing -
Leaving you with the schedule.You thought love might rescue you from
this dilemma -
But love is nonexistant - Every guy
is the same – there is no such thing
as the “special moment”So you take it slow – and immerse yourself in
routine
And savor every new person’s smile…
Maybe one of these days it will be different.
“Talk to Me”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
12-20-78 7:40p.m. pstHello?
I’m an insignificant part of humanity…but I count.
I’m very special to someone…but I haven’t found her
I know I can be an asshole at times
But humanness does not preclude negative traits
I look at a butterfly and I thank God for me
Nothing is ever really bad
I can live through anything
I’ve gone through many dreams and many nightmares
I’ve lived false hopes and fractured heartache
And what I’ve gone through
is not new
A lot of people survive the good, the tragedy
just like me and you
Hello?
I like myself, I guess, what I’ve done
what I have yet to do
And I try to touch a lot of people.
I make attempts to iron out my problems-
Although sometimes I think people expect
me to change because they themselves can’t.
I know I have many stories to tell-
In hopes they might help someone else-
And still – sometimes – I’m not sure
why everything happened like it did.
But
I won’t feel sorry for myself
I’m a human being
Endowed with all the postive and negative
aspects.
I’ve loved you for what seems like
an awfully long time-
And though I inwardly question your actions
and motives a lot – I can’t hate you
I’ll never hate you -
No matter what hurt I may feel
You always elicit a smile from me.
I know I’m not as perfect as you -
I can never hope to be, I guess,
But I keep trying to live up to
Your ideal image.One thing bothers me
I’ll tell you anything you want to know
And half of what you don’t
But all you have to say is smalltalkCan’t you -
Talk to me?
BEHIND THE POETRY: I’ve heard that at age 25, some folks have a “quarter life crisis.” I went through a crisis at the age of 25, because I was hopelessly in love with a gal who didn’t love me in return, but did string me on a bit. She had a “boyfriend” and ultimately chose her life with him over a life with me. I haven’t been truly in love for many years, but I can remember my deep love of Cathy when rereading these poems. Unlike when writng poetry now, which I know will be read by people online here on the blog and on my ElectricPoetry website, when wrting poetry back in 1978, I didn’t really intend them to be read by anyone, excepting perhaps their subject. At the end of my “relationship” with Cathy, I transcribed all the poems I had written for her in a little book and gave them to her at our last parting. MFN/ppf
Comments (26)
Reading some of these I just thought “OUCH” Yes… love hurts sometimes doesn’t it M.
It was so sweet of you to make a book out of these and give them to her, I betthere was at least one time in her life that she looked through them and held them with regret.
Have a great day!
my goodness, you were an angst ridden little fellow! nice to look back and see how well things smoothed out, ain’t it?
I like the first poem the best. Unrequited love is so hard to go through!
Are you familiar with Pink Floyd’s “Keep Talking”? It’s so haunting and sad. The last poem here reminded me of that song.
I can’t believe Cathy wasn’t swayed by your wonderful poetry. I think I’ve read another poem of yours that referenced a “Catherine.” I remember it being very powerful. Anyway–what a silly girl she must have been. Her loss, Darling Michael.
RYC: Sweetheart, Sin is meaningful at any age. (And, in any language, for that matter!!!)
I love all the poems but Talk To Me is my favorite. Unrequited love…. yeah, I’ve been through that. Long story.
Hey…. new profile pic! Groovy, man!
I suppose you know but I’ll say it anyway, this is my kind of poetry. I felt each one and, thank-you, I didn’t feel like such an alien any more. I don’t know why it is, but it seems the ones with the least feelings have the greatest opportunities to explore them. The aphorism is false….nobody loves a lover.. except those who aren’t expected to.
I would say I had/have a quarter life crisis, but it appears that my life has been just one ongoing existential crisis lol… It’s really sweet that you cared for that lady enough to do all that writing. It’s a shame she didn’t feel the same about you.
User has whispered to baldmike2004 …
She missed out on a great deal.
Maybe if you had written sixty-ONE poems she would have fallen for you…
*sigh* I had one of those “relationships” too. They suck. And are hard to get over.
WOW you wrote her SIXTY POEMS? There’s a billion men who couldn’t even write ONE poem for a lady…
I must admit I did not read all of this for I cannot stay long at the computer. I just wanted you to know that I do read your stuff partway and that I have not forgotten you! Bless you, dear friend!
The first 2 poems I felt as if you were writing them about my life it seems that we have much in common for our mid to late 20 years of age… I am going to come back because with your depth of writing I can never read them all at once its just to much for my fragile mind to digest… Lovely work though Mike I can really truly feel what you went through there the heartache pours out…
great things – not in vain
thank you
I was Junior in HS when you wrote these and they do take me back to that era. I always enjoy your work
I read them all. I like the last one best. All of them have the angst of unrequited love, but that last one, to me, seems to (try to) step back. I like the repeated hello and the ending.
I know what you mean I dedicated an entire notebook of about 75 pages worth of poetry for one girl… I gave it to her but went and retrieved it later when I realized that she didnt care much about me or my poems… As far as that 1/4 life crisis I can totally say that one is true for me I have grown leaps and bounds over the last year and a half of my life… Thankyou for all of these thanks for sharing them I know how hard it is to give out little niblets of your heart in poetic format for utter strangers to critique… These last few were like short conversations very cool style there I loved that… Be well Mike until next time friend…
ryc:: lol, no. Scooby Snacks (at least in my house) are either fruit snacks with the Scooby Doo characters, or graham crackers shaped like bones that say *Scooby* on them. My kids are big into Scooby Doo at the moment, so they get a kick out of eating *scooby snacks.*
Cathy missed out. A guy who can communicate like you can is hard to come by. Your poetry is a clear spring of emotion that makes manifest the human condition. (your videos aren’t bad either!) — Lisa
I can so relate. I wouldn’t say I’m in love with him, but I like a guy a great deal and I don’t think he likes me back that well.
You communicated your thoughts when better than I can ever manage.
These are some well written poems Mike and a lot of thought have gone into them.
Mike
It has been forever and I am so sorry. As always your poems touch me deeply. I hope that you are happy and well these days. Time seems to pass so fast for me and I seldom have found time for Xanga these days. I keep meaning to get back to it. I have been working on the art and have work in several books that are coming out soon. If you don’t mind I will share them with you through your email. My contract won’t permit me to post them all here on my site. I miss the people I met here on Xanga at times. Especially you. I am going to go and check out some of your blogs from the past few months. Feel free to email me at my regular email at any time. betrayed1959@yahoo.com. Hugs my friend. I do hope that life has been good to you lately.
Kat
Talk to me is wonderful, HI Micheal I have not been very active for awhile but wanted to say hi. I hope you are doing well my friend.
Great stuff here, thanks for sharing.