The Poetry of 2016

The Poetry of 2019

ElectricPoetry

In 2019 I wrote only 6 poems, including an updating of Christmas Decades, originally written a decade earlier. 

"Pathways Through the Mind's Door"
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
01/05/2019 12:00 noon pst

If I were to die tomorrow
I wouldn't regret that I'd lived
I wouldn't feel slighted 
or bothered
or sorrowed
but happy 
for what life had to give

If I were to perish right now
It wouldn't really matter to me
My life's road's well traveled
At times 
I've been loved
honored, admired
and that's a fine opportunity

The memories falter
as life wends it's course
I may be alone 
but not lonely
I've written millions of thoughts
Given pause to time overwrought
with bother and sorrow
always knowing some tomorrow
would 
lighten the load on my psyche

Perhaps that time is now
I feel younger with each passing day
I don't feel bored
luckless, thrown overboard
Only lucky that God can afford
To make my path 
righteous and just on the way

Yes, if I were to die tomorrow
I'd be ready for what next lies in store
I'm not wanting for extinction
But I accept life's distinction
And will gladly walk through the last door

"The 66th Birthday Poem"
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
04/28/2019 6:45 a.m. pdt

I wish I could better explain
Life's brilliance far outshines the rain
I wish I were granted new words
Repetition begins sounding absurd
I've been granted the sight and the time
The ration, the reason and rhyme
I'm grateful, for all and e'en more
For love, people, family, memories to store


And now as I turn those later bends in life's road
I'm content tho' alone and the world's my abode
I can travel, I can share, I can still spin a tale
The world isn't perfect but for me it won't fail
Twilight might fade but I know there's a dawn
And I have a wonderful life to look back on
If 50 were my rebirth then I'm just sweet sixteen
I can't really explain it, but you know what I mean


I wish I could better be clear
You're not too far away but you're near
To whomever I speak with these optimistic pieces
Through all the turbulence are softer easy peaces
I am off on another adventure again
More adventuresome times, as the more time I gain
I'm grateful, for all and e'en more
Universal connections by the score
 

 

 

"Treatise For Thought (Forethought and Forget)"
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
06/01/2019
6:05 am pdt

I would like to think

The mind lives on, e'en if the body fades away
That, truly, "heaven is in your mind"
And our minds, all minds, comprise the idea of heaven
I would like to think
While I still can, concisely and completely,
That heaven exists for all, and 
everything that makes me "me" will
long survive my passing


Perhaps I will forget this
Perhaps I am fated to do so
Perhaps you and I are just elegant
wormholes of existence
and our minds, and thoughts, and memories
are like dust flurries of forgetfulness,
flying into the sky during a strong wind


But no, that can't be
I may be alone in life
But I gaze at humanity
I talk to its denizens
I know that even if someone seems 
inconsequential
they aren't
Everyone is special
e'en if an individual doesn't believe it during life


Life is a gift so many waste
And those of us who recognized that gift 
let's, say, like for me, over half a century ago,
and have "lived each day as if it were the last"
and have "treasured each moment"
and "lived in that moment"
Don't want to believe the long moment has 
a distinct ending point 
and then it's all over


But what about hell?
Those with whom I have discussed spiritual conundrums
have asked repeatedly
Hell is here, life is a gift with which we have to maneuver
through carefully, 
and hell is the force which can separate us from it 
at any time


Predestination?
Loss of memories?
Fatal mistakes?
God's plan?


Does it matter?
I've always, in this over-achieving mind's eye,
seen existence as partially random, partially planned,
partial, not complete,
And that completness begins with physical death,
and what I've always "preached" is 
"The Final Reailization"


Those minds which have been ravaged by disease
Become whole again, and remember
Those minds which have been torn and broken by hell's dictates
Reverse, and make amends, and rectify in a renaissance
Those minds which are good are made better
Those minds which are bad are made good
Those minds who don't know achieve realization
And those minds who've known all along achieve 
confirmation


I would like to think 
I have all the answers
But I know my mind-puzzle won't be complete
Until the corporeal "reality" is erased from its memory
Replaced with the Universal "super-reality" 
Joined with my brethren
I know I don't have all the answers
because I don't even know what 
the after life "looks" like
And even though I've always been
satisfied I know I'm not supposed to know
until it happens,
this still sparks those questions
Those Universal Questions we all ask
about existence,
and the random nature of why some of 
us disappear so quickly
or lose that mind we possess


I would like to think
And so I do
Some would say I 'overthink'
And I always have


This tome, this poem, this tirade
Is but another sermon on the 
mountain of the mind's eye
looking down on reality and questioning,
hoping the answers are what I think they are
What I would like to think
they are
as I live,
and breath
this moment
in the Godhead's Universal Memory
 

"Never Satisfied"

Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
09/02/19

7:10 a.m. pdt

My life though full is empty: Awareness fills my soul
I'm complete, spiritual, interested: Energized, eager, whole
Yet I'm always on the edge, 
Nervous I'll miss out, or never tried
No matter what the day brings
I'm just never satisfied


I've lived what some may consider is a most excellent life
Ee'n I believe I've been touched by God, emerging through the strife
But I just cannot relax 
As I travel along for life's ride
I'll meditate full and slow
But still I'm not satisfied


This life is a journey, I'm all in: I savor ev'ry moment 
I reach out and listen, I love all humanity, but still I'm in great torment
The morning brings vision
The seas rise and fall with the tide
The evening brings solace
No, I'm still not satisfied

 
I sometimes think this condition is a detriment as I age
As if I'm rapidly turning and almost ripping life's pages
But maybe I'm just filled with too much creativity
And if I don't feel I'm rising up, then I'm facing a slide
And each day's another test I fail
And I'm just not satisfied


Perhaps most folks just don't overthink it like I do
Everyone has advice and concern through and through
Yet this doesn't console me, never has, never will
I'm bursting with unused talent and ungiven love I hide
Outwardly I'll be serene and optimistic
But I'm just never satisfied

"Thanksgiving Prayer 2019"
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
11/28/19

3:30 am


I'm still alive, fit, healthy, determined
I'm still searching, optimistic, able, charmed
No never had a family, nor had a lifetime mate
And these holidays I won't have turkey piled on my plate


Compared to lives of those less fortunate
I'm thankful, as always for the life I've led
and still am leading
Compared to times seeming more desolate
I'm thankful, as always for the call of experience
that I am heeding


Walls of debt enclosed me for decades
As life and wisdom advance, trouble fades
Still the compulsive worrier, still missing my unknowns
But these holidays I'm content in the skin on my bones


I wanted to be remembered as a great American poet
Create art and literature as legacy to go with it
Never published except on the internet 
But the words exist in my memory, so I won't fret


Compared to everything broken and unholy
I'm thankful, as always for my hope, care and love
e'en if never received by anyone
Compared to those who can't or won't stop bad addictions
I'm thankful, as always that I was able to see the bad signs
And stop, so I'm still whole, aware, and  not yet done


Thank you to the cosmos, and to God, and to myself
Thank you to anyone who listens, and who reaches out
Thanksgiving isn't just a holiday which arrives but 
once a year
Thanksgiving is a state of mind which transcends
doubt, worry, greed, and fear 

"Christmas Decades"
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
12/20/09 3:00a.m. pst
(Updated 12/16/19 4:30am pst)


One 1953-1963
Snowfall melts forever
Palm trees and long sandy beaches
replace sleighbells and snowmen in memory
The air's a lot warmer
But the tree is real, evergreen, with
needles that drop to the tops of the packages
piled high and artistically


Two 1963-1973
Shiny silver fakery 
replaces fir smells and stickiness
Yet green and red popcorn balls 
still strung with holiday affection
The days pass with awareness
as little doors are open revealing
reasons and righteousness
Raindrops signal the season,
as the lights are reflected in the foil packages
under the silver tree
Santa delivers wonders
And Jesus delivers love


Three 1973-1983
As the last Christmas fades from memory
Parents pass from the living
And Santa stops coming around
Little children grow up
And Scrooge seems to drop by more often
Replacing childlike wonder 
with agnostic fears and faults


Four 1983-1993
Christmases without trees
Replaced by boisterous
Christmas parties
Eggnog and revelry
Little bags of marijuana tied with ribbons
Christmas is the time of love,
Meeting Pat at one party, although the party of life 
soon became less than jolly
Love and trees did return for a few annums


Five 1993-2003
For One cold Christmas
The tree returns, decorated
with shiny balls and dreams of 
memory's season
But then a friend resides 
in cancer's thrall and 
Christmas becomes another 
time for which to give thanks
to fleeting life as lights flicker 


Six 2003-2009
The website and blog are decorated 
instead of the house
Greetings of the season
are sent via email and comment
which replace cardboard and glitter
But are nonetheless special
And even moreso, as the holiday
becomes more real and loving
as friends around the world
celebrate with me
I may be alone in reality
But I am with humanity in toto
As Christmas morning dawns
bright, warm, and filled with a spirit
which fails to die


Seven 2009-2019
Another chapter of the Christmas Decades
passes into personal history
accompanied by memorial sadness and 
a still childlike wonder and optimism
still meaning both often and unmoving
As the decades move around me
(Us, the Universal Consciousness)
they rush and pale and collide in memory
Care and camaraderie
even if just hope and prayer
remain
All is nothing, and nothing is all
Christmas charity calls with a clarion
And I give to you-manity all 
this strong yet feeble heart can muster
During this precious season

 
 
 
 
 
 
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