Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 24

Posted on April 24, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

11:53 a.m. I’m late today because I was at a high school awards ceremony. My daughter won a scholarship for performing arts. I’ve watched her develop as an actress and singer since she was six years old. Mostly backstage, but I’ve been lucky enough to be onstage with her some, too. But where I usually am is backstage or in the audience. That got me thinking about being backstage.

rustles and whispers engage
and you see a different play
from the shadows of backstage

it may feel it lasts an age
or that time has slipped away
as rustles and whispers engage

you know every line on the page
and for the actors you pray
from the shadows of backstage

war is something you cannot wage
and in vain you will try to stay
the rustles and whispers that engage

spotlight doesn't reach the cage
behind the curtains to the fray
in the shadows of backstage

in the end, you may feel your age
as if you're suddenly old and gray
in rustles and whispers that engage
from the shadows of backstage

12:15 p.m. Not too bad.

Backstage
by Michelle Garren-Flye

Rustles and whispers engage,
and you see a different play
from the shadows of backstage.

It may feel it lasts an age,
or that time has slipped away
as rustles and whispers engage.

You know every line on the page
as do the actors, you pray,
from the shadows of backstage.

War is what they must not wage,
and in vain you will try to stay
the rustles and whispers that engage.

Spotlight doesn't reach the cage
behind the curtains to the fray
in the shadows of backstage!

In the end, you may feel your age
as if you're suddenly old and gray
in rustles and whispers that engage
from the shadows of backstage.

12:29 p.m. Villanelle seemed to suit this one. It’s supposed to be sort of lighthearted. Backstage drama usually is, even if it seems like the end of time right at that moment.

Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 23

Posted on April 23, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

10:22 a.m. Iris season is almost over, I guess, but man was it a good one. Purple, yellow, blue, white. I saw them all. The flowers look too big to stand up on the stalks. Almost like they float.

10:47 a.m. Took a break to chat with some nice people who stopped in. Let’s see if we can write a sonnet about irises.

Iris season is nearly over
filled with blooms vibrant in color
yellow, blue, purple amidst the clover
without them, our days may be duller.

fat purple blossoms made me laugh
yellow buds always brightened my day
wispy white whirl atop green staff
whimsical but now about to go away.

An empire falls in my garden
the beauty of spring is laid low
summer's approach begs no pardon
it's all just a part of the flow.

so enjoy the iris only within reason
they'll be gone with the change of season.

11:00 a.m. That took a few. Let’s do a quick cleanup.

Fall of the Iris
by Michelle Garren-Flye

Iris season is nearly over;
'twas filled with blooms vibrant in color:
yellow, blue, purple amidst the clover.
Without them, our days may be duller.

Fat purple blossoms made me laugh;
yellow buds always brightened my day.
Wispy white whirl atop green staff—
whimsical but now fading away.

An empire falls in my garden.
The beauty of spring is laid low.
Summer's approach begs no pardon;
it's all about going with the flow.

So enjoy the iris only within reason;
they'll be gone with the change of season.

11:05 a.m. Hope you enjoyed it!

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 22

Posted on April 22, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

11:36 a.m. Today I’m thinking about fire. Also, a friend just stopped by and talked about a kind of poetry called “Blackout Poetry”. Evidently Benjamin Franklin used to do this thing where you take a written piece and black out most of the words, leaving a poem.

I’m going to give it a try. This is from an article about the Brantley County fires in Georgia. I have family there. You can read the full article here: https://www.news4jax.com/news/georgia/2026/04/22/brantley-county-wildfire-explodes-to-5000-acres-destroys-47-homes-in-southeast-georgia/

11:46 a.m. There’s definitely a learning curve here lol.

11:51 a.m. Got it now.

A fast-moving wildfire exploded to more than 5,000 acres overnight has destroyed 47 homes, according to county manager Joey Cason.
“When they left yesterday to go to work, they had no idea that this was going to happen,” Cason said, explaining that the fire was just a small pocket around 10 a.m. “Forestry had it almost under control.”
But things changed quickly.
“Within 30 minutes, the winds picked up pretty significantly, and it went from being almost in control to a major wildfire,” Cason said. “Yesterday morning, we had 700 acres burned. It burned over 4,000 acres in a matter of hours as soon as the wind picked up.”
Cason said the blaze moved so fast that some families were evacuated with minutes to spare.

12:03 a.m. Prayers for those in fire’s way.

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 21

Posted on April 21, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

10:11 a.m. Last night I laid in my hammock looking up at the sky while the sun set. As it got dark I could see the shiny silver crescent moon, partially cloaked by clouds. It was beautiful.

For the Crescent Moon
by Michelle Garren-Flye

Are you falling?
I know that feeling.
shedding bits of yourself
and wondering, what will the end be like?

Did you see the bat
wings beating the wind?
Keen beacon pierces the darkness
and serves as your trusted guide.

Did you hear the owl
hooting his welcome?
Guardian and keeper of the night,
his greeting cradles you in your flight.

Are you smiling?
I remember that feeling.
A bit of a crack and your soul
shines through like daylight.

10:35 a.m. That one was totally off-the-cuff. I truly had no idea what I was going to write when I sat down today. I like it, for what it is. A little rhyme. A little form. A lot of imagery.

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 20

Posted on April 20, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

12:39 p.m. This morning I heard “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight” by Cutting Crew (remember that one?) and started thinking about one hit wonders.

It’s always been used as a sort of derogatory term. Something for someone who had great success with something but could never remake that success. But I’m thinking, what if we approach this from a different direction?

What if it’s a wonderful thing to be able to channel all your passion into one creation?

As far as we know, that’s what God did.

Make it, mold it, devote your life,
this single obsession that absorbs your time
fills your attention, causes great strife

you think this could ever happen again?
this madness, this greatness in your prime?
no, you'll reach the peak only to look down.

you're a one-hit wonder, but that's not bad
you've already found the mountain you must climb
and never mind everyone else's score pad.

Take it in, enjoy it, this moment in the sun
declare proudly: being a one-hit wonder is not a crime
because in the end, your race is already won

12:55 p.m. I thought it would be a villanelle. It wasn’t. Let’s clean it up.

One-Hit Wonder
by Michelle Garren-Flye

Make it, mold it, devote your life
to this single obsession that absorbs your time,
fills your attention, and causes great strife.

You think this could ever happen again?
This madness, this passion of your prime?
No, you'll reach the peak only to look down.

You're a one-hit wonder, but that's not bad;
you've already found the mountain you must climb
and never mind everyone else's score pad.

Take it in, enjoy it, this moment in the sun!
Creating a wonder with one hit is not a crime
because in the end, your race is won.

1:08 p.m. Okay, done. I like it!

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 19

Posted on April 19, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

7:37 p.m. Long day today, most of it on the road. So this is going to be short and sweet. Although I wrote part in my head while driving…

Waiting for the Rain
by Michelle Garren-Flye

I'm thirsty
waiting for rain
to moisten my parched roots. 

I'm hungry
waiting for meals
to ease the hunger of my belly.

I'm tired
waiting for night
to rock me to sleep.

What if the rain doesn't come
and the meals aren't cooked
and the night never falls?

I'll keep on waiting with all my might
because that's all there's left to do.

7:46 p.m. Done. The sun is set. I’m heading home.

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 18

Posted on April 18, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

10:11 a.m. Anticipating a busy day here at the store, so I’m getting an early start. Might take a while, might go fast. I’m just here for the ride.

Which gives me an idea.

I'm just here for the ride. 
Cruising across bridges to the end of the highway.
Maybe just to see where it leads
and what it's like.
It's not the destination, it's the journey
and it might be a bumpy one. 
Let's just go for a drive.
Not a high speed chase, it's not a race
Let's stop and admire the view.
This road curves, enjoy the swerves.
Relax and enjoy the ride.

10:25 a.m. Took a short break to help someone who’s looking for a book.

What do you think? I don’t think it got there. Of course, I’m never sure about poems that don’t have rhymes or form. Maybe if I put this thought into a sort of format.

I'm here for the ride
for crossing bridges
to the end of the world
and following paths
through the wilderness
or sailing the sea
in uncharted waters
Wanna go with?

10:47 a.m. As predicted, I’ve been super busy.

11:18 a.m. That might have been an understatement. Gonna call this one for today. 🙂

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 17

Posted on April 17, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

12:42 p.m. I guarantee I’ll be interrupted, but I’m trying to finish this before lunch. I have only a line in mind:

“Making yourself small enough to fit.”

It was inspired by the book I just finished, Weyward by Emilia Hart. An excellent read and all about learning not to try to fit into society’s expectations of you.

12:46 p.m. Here goes:

Make yourself small enough to fit
the hole that has been provided for you
even when that lifestyle doesn't sit
well, and nothing about it seems true

But what if, say, you didn't slim down
and instead put on your loosest jeans
and didn't mind what was said in town?
Say fuck it all and spread your wings!

Even if you've spent the past few years
cutting edges off your square peg
feeling pain, self disgust and shedding tears
the ache in your knee when you bend the leg

Stop cutting yourself, stop holding back
let the ground fall away as you take flight
Bet you never thought you'd have a knack
for living life with all your might.

Don't bother trying to make yourself fit
life is better if you just live it.

1:10 p.m. Yep. Several interruptions. Also, I didn’t know it was a sonnet. A little cleanup:

Square Peg
by Michelle Garren-Flye

Make yourself small enough to fit
the hole that has been provided for you;
even when that lifestyle doesn't sit
well, and nothing about it seems true.

But what if, say, you didn't slim down
and instead put on your loosest jeans
and didn't mind what was said in town?
Say fuck it all and spread your wings!

Even if you've spent the past few years
cutting edges off your square peg,
feeling pain, self disgust, and shedding tears—
oh, the ache in your knee when you bend the leg!

Stop cutting yourself, stop holding back!
Let the ground fall away as you take flight.
Bet you never thought you'd have a knack
for living life with all your might.

Don't bother trying to make yourself fit;
life is better if you just live it.

1:14 p.m. Done. Whew.

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 16

Posted on April 16, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

10:26 a.m. Good morning! Yesterday I spoke at a local writers group about the importance of promoting poetry. It’s one of the duties of my position as a poet laureate. I talked about how I had impostor syndrome and couldn’t think of myself as a poet for a long time. Almost right up until I became poet laureate.

But I’m a poet now. Even when I’m not writing poetry, I’m a poet. Even when I wrote my novel and published it, I was a poet.

Today, I’m going to write a response to one of my favorite poems, which was handed out at the writers group yesterday. Robert Frost’s “Nothing Gold Can Stay”. In it, he mourns the loss of springtime and youth. The best part of life, according to Frost, is the beginning. Spring. Youth. First love’s first days.

But to me, I’m only just getting to the best part. The part where I really know who I am. Where the sidewalk begins.

10:31 a.m. Excuse me, I need to brush the cat.

10:36 a.m. Seriously, he jumped up on the desk and demanded to be brushed. Anyway, the way I’m going to write my response is to use the same pattern Frost used for his poem.

Rhyme scheme: A,A, B,B, C,C, D,D. So four rhyming couplets. They’re not long lines, either. Syllable count for each line: 1:6, 2:6, 3:7, 4:7, 5:6, 6:6, 7:6, 8:5.

The final line is the title of the poem.

So I’ll start with my final line. Five syllables.

10:42 a.m.

Live a golden life.

I like that. Okay, here we go.

Live a Golden Life
by Michelle Garren-Flye

You mourn the loss of youth
Waste time but here's the truth

10:51 a.m. Took a break to chat with a customer. Back at it now.

Live a Golden Life
by Michelle Garren-Flye

You mourn the loss of youth,
waste time but here's the truth:
no season takes all the gold;
there's always plenty to hold.
Winter sunsets, fall leaf,
summer rose suspends grief.
Jealousy causes strife.
Live a golden life.

11:02 a.m. Not too bad, eh? Not up to Robert Frost’s standards most likely, and he would most likely dismiss my “reply” out of hand, but I give him only a shrug emoji.

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 15

Posted on April 15, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

11:36 a.m. I’m a little later than usual. I was putting the finishing touches to a talk I’ll be giving later on poet laureates.

Did you know I get stage fright?

And yet, I hunger for attention. I guess that’s the fate of a writer. We work so much in solitude and then we want attention for our work, our thoughts, our selves.

There might be a poem in this.

Spoken word is the format of the day
play with that you poet you
who longs for attention for your words
thirst for love is a crime
time will be your enemy, friend
end this poem before it takes you too far
starlight is bright, but not for poets

can't rhyme that, can you?

11:42 a.m. Haha! I may have accidentally created a new form. I had no idea where it was going until I hit the end. I didn’t look up any rhyming words until then, and I only did that to see if there really weren’t any good ones for “poets”. I kind of like it. It uses rhyme, but not in a traditional way. Let’s add punctuation and maybe a title.

Poet Rap
by Michelle Garren-Flye

spoken word is the format of the day;
play with that, you poet, you
who longs for attention for your words!
thirst for love is a crime—
time will be your enemy; friend,
end this poem before it takes you too far!
starlight is bright, but not for poets.

can't rhyme that, can you?

11:46 a.m. That was fun. Thanks for joining and feel free to let me know what you think.