MFNyiri 11/28/01 What can I say that I haven't said already, yet make it seem fresh because I haven't posted any thoughts on this page since "the day that changed everything"? My latest realization, "we are all ultimately alone," coincidentally, also the title of my latest poem. I wrote it over a week ago, but didn't post a link to it until now. Other pages have taken my time, other interests than updating here. So it is time, and almost Christmas time, in the year which which will forever be known for "September 11", a term that elicits an event at once so shocking and immensely felt by all that it is already a part of the global iconography. In light of that tragedy, I notice and grieve over personal tragedy, as felt by others, even more. Everyone suffers to live, and lives each day, only to suffer more. And yet, we go on. And we do it alone, all by ourselves. My poem isn't too deep, however, it's a paean to driving my middle age crazy car with the top down! Also musings on aging and questions concerning the elusive other half. MFNyiri 9/6/01 It's been a few weeks since inspiration has actually caused me to write. Tonight is different. I think the poem,Cutedog, would have been longer had I not been extremely shocked and saddened when I found out one of my earliest "correspondents and readers", CuteDog, had passed away in Dec. 2000. Finding it out tonight for me , and reading it that way, by "visiting her website" is really making it's depth feel in my soul. I do, feel a cry, tonight, for Pats. I know you are in a better place. It seemed as if you lived life as richly as you could in this. MFNyiri 5/13/01 The year 2001 is half way over. This, the true Millennium Year hasn't been kind to my creativity. The few poems written so far this year can be accessed below. Far from being ashamed and upset, I have had bare years before, so even with the immediacy of the internet, and my long range plans to post everything I ever wrote on the internet, I can proclaim that even in the lean years, the poetry exists in me, and will make it's way to the page, or more specifically the computer screen in time, and that's what it's all about. MFNyiri 5/13/01 |
MFNyiri 11/28/01 What can I say that I haven't said already, yet make it seem fresh because I haven't posted any thoughts on this page since "the day that changed everything"? My latest realization, "we are all ultimately alone," coincidentally, also the title of my latest poem. I wrote it over a week ago, but didn't post a link to it until now. Other pages have taken my time, other interests than updating here. So it is time, and almost Christmas time, in the year which which will forever be known for "September 11", a term that elicits an event at once so shocking and immensely felt by all that it is already a part of the global iconography. In light of that tragedy, I notice and grieve over personal tragedy, as felt by others, even more. Everyone suffers to live, and lives each day, only to suffer more. And yet, we go on. And we do it alone, all by ourselves. My poem isn't too deep, however, it's a paean to driving my middle age crazy car with the top down! Also musings on aging and questions concerning the elusive other half. MFNyiri 9/6/01 It's been a few weeks since inspiration has actually caused me to write. Tonight is different. I think the poem,Cutedog, would have been longer had I not been extremely shocked and saddened when I found out one of my earliest "correspondents and readers", CuteDog, had passed away in Dec. 2000. Finding it out tonight for me , and reading it that way, by "visiting her website" is really making it's depth feel in my soul. I do, feel a cry, tonight, for Pats. I know you are in a better place. It seemed as if you lived life as richly as you could in this. MFNyiri 5/13/01 The year 2001 is half way over. This, the true Millennium Year hasn't been kind to my creativity. The few poems written so far this year can be accessed below. Far from being ashamed and upset, I have had bare years before, so even with the immediacy of the internet, and my long range plans to post everything I ever wrote on the internet, I can proclaim that even in the lean years, the poetry exists in me, and will make it's way to the page, or more specifically the computer screen in time, and that's what it's all about. MFNyiri 5/13/01 |
The Complete Works of Michael F. Nyiri: countdown: this side of the Millennium |
