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The Poetry of 2016

The Poetry of 2017


In 2017 I wrote only 6 poems. The sheer amount of poetry I've written had begun to overwhelm me at times, and I just don't have the inspiration I once did. All me themes at this point seem somewhat redundant and unnecessary. 

As the decade of the "teens" nears it's end, the only poems I seem to keep up with are the annual Poem for the New Year and the Birthday Poem. 

"Poem for the New Year 2017"
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
01-03-2017 7:21p.m. pst

Again (and again, repeating)
I ask
What do I want?
What do I need?
Why do I care?
Why don't I (think I) matter?
What's it all about?
Am I the meaning
Or the meaningless

I want to be optimistic
I want to be happy
I want to ward off the demons
I want to breathe easy 
I want to stay healthy
I want to mean what I say
I want to say what I mean

I don't want to get angry
I don't want the tears to flow unabated
I don't want to keep forgetting
I don't want to grow useless
I don't want to go blindly
I don't want to disappear

Years ago I wrote that I didn't need people
And so they all left

I swore I didn't burn bridges
But they all collapsed
And I can't get across
I'm no different than anyone else
But I am
And I won't admit it
But I'm really lonely
Almost all the time

Friends were only careless opinions
Laughing, screaming, dying
I'll talk forever but
I forget what I'm saying
I knew how to turn a phrase once
But it was just a faze once
I was the smartest in the room once
And now I feel like just a dunce

Wisdom is knowing (I think)
That I don't know what I want
I think I know what I need
But I'm not too sure
I'll turn around, and turn more phrases
And it won't phase me
Amazing faces
Damn the dunce, but once
And don't let me be lonely

I never thought I needed children
Until it was too late
I never thought I'd grow old
Until I did
I never thought I needed anyone
And that's all I really needed

I am we and we are alone together in the abyss
Falling into another hole
And wholly embracing the experience
Happy New Year
(and again, repeating)

Words Shall Fail Me
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
01-24-17 5:53 p.m. pst

I've lived through smiles, and strife
I've discovered art and artifice in life
My personal timeline is filled, brimming
A lot of my memories juxtaposed, swimming
I cannot claim to have seen it all
Nothing surprises, yet surprising the fall
of the call of the natural beauty I spy
Each moment I witness the sea and the sky
If I can but capture this winsome world
A momentous rapture of beauty unfurled
Words simply fail me, throat catches, I stammer 
I scream to the Godhead, oh thank thee, the clamor
of wordless ecstasy I hear, yet it is quite quiet
Questions to ask, no need for answers to why it
Is right there to witness, to keep my eyes open
Words might just fail me, but this beauty there's hope in



Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
May 1st, 2017
9:39am pdt

The first was filled with awareness and bright
Somewhat childish, but somewhat prescient and wise
Failing physical actual, but sharp inward stamina and in sight
Small in stature perhaps but immense in spiritual size

The second held the last future memories of family
Fading pictures of mother and father, familial activity grouping
Failing physical actual, but sharp stirrings of universality
And dark druggy dismal doings, question powerfully losing

Third was a blur, record players and movie screens
Parties never ending, gathering friendships like flowers
Creative clueless morphing white powder filled social scenes
Rising through ranks in business only to fall highers to lowers

Stop for a second, breath a sigh for the fourth decade
Unsullied but misunderstood romance, and then freedom's ring
The relationship like a prison, but now all bad memories fade
And the escape was too glorious and too expensive a thing

Fifth decade, rebirth, rekindling creative means to an end
The social strata twentysomething years earlier disappears and dies
Replacing family and the buddy circle with internet follower and friend
Living each moment as it happens, satisfaction from life's laughs and cries

The sixth is still upon me, and I feel old, and young, aware, and bright
Somewhat childish, but otherwise prescient and wise
Ably physical actual, with sharp inward stamina and in sight
Living largely, still here with satisfaction, my total life's the prize

Birthdecades arrive, and are snuffed like the candle flame
Lifedecades to plan, and live, from which always to learn
Birthdecades do pass, as will this mortal receptacle's aim
Into infinity's beginnings, and God's plan for the next turn

So I'll ponder existence, with sustenance, alas,
Forget past foibles, and celebrate present health and grace
Another year in the present birthdecade shall pass
And more lines on the page to match the lines on my face.

Celebration of Mothers on Your Day
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
05-14-17 6:45 a.m. pdt

To all the mothers
Raising generation after generation
You sometime planned
Or perhaps you didn't
But life gave you the opportunity to
create on a grand scale

You prepare a place
You answer questions
You give life
that awesome task and terror
that wonderful memory and 
marvel of biology and spirit

You rise up at times most difficult
You raise the bar of brilliance
You are never really prepared
But for the most part
you can bask in the lovliness
your love provides 
soul on our planet

Simple men can only surmise
And if we had the knowledge
t'would be a big surprise

I, the poet, with only words
at my command
Have neither 
planned for progeny
nor sired same
And even if I would
have become a father...
that job would pale
compared to the earth mothers 
among us


I celebrate all the mothers on their day

Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
10-14-17 9:45 am

There are no men nor are there women
There are no straights, nor gays, nor transsexuals
There are no whites, no blacks,
No religions, ideologies or creeds
No countries, borders, or lines of demarcation
There is just humanity
There is only us.

Few knew what John "imagined"
When he sang so long ago
Few understand now
These differences tear humanity apart
And this is how it must start

Some part of the face of humanity will always be suspect
This side of the face has a permanent grimace
It is intolerant, angry, vain, and immovable
But there is another side
The other cheek
The face which sometimes hides
It may or not may not be afraid of the other side
It may simply be naive or unknowing
But it is pure

Here, and now, embrace diversity
Understand more all our similarities 
Morality and tolerance should replace labels and segregation
All our faces should become one face
The time for
Yearnings of love and peace

Rifts in our

We are all together in this
Our shared existence
We didn't ask for this existence
But we're here
I am but a poor lonely poet
Who has been writing missives 
To nonexistent muses
For decades with no answers

And I watch the world stage, with it's egotistical players
I yearn to explain, to call, to shout
It's NOT all right to malign one's neighbor, 
To shun another's skin or body shape, 
It's NOT all right to take advantage
Or push, shoving one's intractable attitude on another

WE cannot trust supposed leaders 
Neither political nor religious 
to provide a leaning post for OUR capabilies 
and strengths as the BODY of HUMANITY

It's the vocal minority who distresses us,
We, the people.
We can listen to what they have to say
But we should never give in to their heretic rantings
Don't let the uncommon
Deter the common sense we all possess

Poem For the New Year
Words Shall Fail Me
Celebration of Mothers
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