Have I the need or desire
To pen my autobiography?
Probably not what I’d do…
Not for any question of what
I’ve experienced or accomplished
Put bluntly…my bucket list is short
Not a question of having a life of
Checking off the boxes…and yet
Things that appear on the lists of others
Are in my rear view mirror…
Trying to lord it over others,
Never the way I rolled…instead
Modest acknowledgment
The road I chose to tread…
Still…there are times I regret
And even, for some things, resent
Finding no recognition at all…not fair
The good we do for humanity…
Why leave that to rattle around your head?


I’m dying, she said…
Lady Liberty, tears unseen,
Covered by the falling rain
And the real lovers of liberty
Know they’re real…
The document that
Guarantees our rights
Under attack by those
Who wrap themselves
In the flag, while
Dishonoring the words
Trampling over two
Centuries of respect
For its authors…
And the rights of
We the People
Extinguishing the torch
Dark days have come
To a great nation…
And lies can’t hide it
The darkness that
Liberty long banished
Is upon the land…
The bad news unbounded
Dismantling begun…
But We the People
Have just begun to fight

Darkness must not win



Sir Isaac Newton
A giant in his time
Was he an expert
Whose word should
Rule even into ours?
A cleric named Ussher
Concluded in 1650…
Our Earth began in 4004 BC
His evidence…interpolation
From the Old Testament
Admired in their time…
But we know they were wrong
Does that mean science
Can’t be trusted…
Or that it works?
We live in a time
When science is mistrusted
When many choose to doubt
What their eyes can clearly see
So why do they choose
To live in the dark?


Seek and ye shall find
Not everything is
So easily attainable
Not always a matter
Of ability…too many
Possessing great talent
Find limited opportunity
Sometimes who, not
What you know…
The ways of the world
Haven’t changed in eons
The greatest sculptor was
Forced to paint a ceiling
Lying on his back? No!
That’s a long-standing myth…
And standing was how he worked
His true love…painting? No!
Marble spoke to him, the
Figures inside begged him
To set them free…
To paint a fresco…the price
Of admission to pursue HIS passion
For years…four to be exact
He labored under orders,
Creating a masterpiece
Renowned worldwide forever
Not all find the opportunity
Many great beginnings fail…
But how many find another way
To “share the breathings”
Of their heart? So here I am…
Another sculptor, but this time
Willingly trading bronze and clay
For the words that I hope
Allow me to find my way onward
As I share what I’ve learned
And write to live beyond my time
© 2017 Robert Mihaly


He came from nowhere…
A nobody that nobody knew
What created the rage…
For what else can you call it
That brought a torrent of lead
Raining down upon a festival?
That he was sick…unquestioned
But what do we do now?
It’s still not time to talk about it?
The elephant in the room…
The insanity of guns being
Accessible even to the insane
Driven by the makers…
Purveyors of instruments of death
And the sickness that for too many
Happiness is a warm gun…
And for others…it’s only money
All forgetting the value of life

© 2017 Robert Mihaly
Prompt 2.27.jpg