What I write
Often barely
What I wrote

My surroundings
My frame of mind
Change the color…
Am I a verbal

Does it matter?
We’re often told…
The hobgoblin
Of small minds

And there are
Plenty of those…
More than enough
To go around
In these times

Prompt 42.jpg

Source: We Heart It



Marking time
Waiting for
Taste of the
Life I knew
Was mine

Where did I
Go off the tracks?
Do you listen to me?
More to the point…
Did you ever?

I didn’t keep
A ledger of what’s
Yours and mine…
Looks like you did
And that yours
Stayed yours
And mine was ours
Did I finally see it
As it was from the
Beginning & remains?

The time for the
Accounting is near
I know what to expect
Did you think it would
Never come? Poor you!





I’ve nearly forgotten what
It feels like to know respect
Knowing that my word
Won’t carry weight like
That of certain others

We place our trust in
Plastic facsimiles of heroes
But they all leave
Muddy footprints
In the rain

Granted that my likes
Are far flung…and my
Knowledge…in bits & pieces
We’re all like that at
Some level…are we not?

I know I’m not omniscient…
Not ever-present when
Shit’s going down…
But I DO know that
It ain’t Shinola

Be warned, one and all…
Don’t make the call that if
I said nothing, I know nothing…
Those who have will soon know
I’m not taking it anymore

© 2016 Robert Mihaly

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Prompt 40.jpg


I look in the mirror
And see my mother’s eyes
My hair is hers as well
For better or worse…
Graying some…
At least it’s all there

My father I see not at all
Until temperament
Comes to mind…
To call me mild-mannered
Mostly true…BUT…
Crossing me you’ll rue

I think my mother
Must have been shy
Socializing was the
Last thing on her mind
Devoted mother or martyr?
Perhaps a deadly brew

My father…the other side
Of the family coin
Was garrulous with all
Until he got home…
I learned from him
To talk to strangers

We are who our parents make us
Far beyond our birth
A need to feel wanted
A need to feel loved
If it isn’t clear to you
You wonder if they care

Or did they only do
The same as what they
Went through as children
Not knowing for sure…
Where they stood?
I suspect it’s true

Whatever your feelings
Whoever you are…
Find the pieces of you…
When the missing ones fit
You won’t need glue…
All you need is love, it’s said

I hope that’s true

© 2016 Robert Mihaly
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