Yep. I’ve already got my next poetry book ready to go. April is such a great month to get me going on it. I found my direction while writing my daily poems with all of you, and then I opened up my folder from the past year since I published Thick & Thin, and I found a trove of verses just waiting to complement what I wrote in April.
I didn’t use every poem from April, and I’ve reordered the ones I did use and interspersed them with older poems, but if you followed me here, you will see some familiar words. Putting together a book of poetry is both like and different from writing poetry. In poetry your string words together. In bookmaking, you’re stringing poems and photos (in this case) together. In both cases, you hope what you end up with means something to someone besides yourself.
10:30 a.m. And so our month of verse draws to a close. I have a few things to get done today, including the newsletter for my store, but this has been a poem that’s 30 days coming, basically. That’s a good amount of time.
And the only thing I can think of for a theme is that I want it to sum everything up.
So what was this month about?
My corner of the world.
Making things better?
Complaining less.
Exploring different poetic forms.
A conversation in a way, since I wrote the poems “live”.
10:36 a.m. So, let’s give it a try:
Lay your head down for rest, feel the world fall away. Are you comfortable now that you're out of the fray?
I know I've done my best to take the cares of the world. I've dressed them up, sent them off changed the way they unfurled.
I hope that I have passed the test and turned your worries into verse. Admit it, you're glad I did it, or at least you know it could be worse.
10:55 a.m. Not quite freeform. Interesting rhyme scheme. A/B/C/B, A/D/E/D, A/F/G/F. I may like to rhyme, but you gotta admit I don’t always rhyme the same way. Let’s title and polish.
Change by Michelle Garren-Flye
Lay your head down for rest, feel the world fall away. Are you comfortable now that you're out of the fray?
I know I've done my best to take the cares of the world. I've dressed them up, sent them off, changed the way they unfurled.
I hope that I have passed the test by turning worries into verse. Admit it, you're glad I did it— or at least you know it could be worse.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
10:55 a.m. I’m hoping to make a book with some of these poems. I do it every year. Sometimes I use all the poems I write in the month of April, sometimes only some of them.
I imagine this will be one of the “only some of them” years.
In all seriousness, I am always happy to have the abundance of poetry that April leaves me with. So today I’m dedicating my poem to the theme of abundance.
Abundance by Michelle Garren-Flye
We pray for it, for enough— or just a little more— and when we get the stuff we will be happier than before.
It's something that we know— or something that we feel— whose elusiveness may bring us low because it's all too real.
Take my hand as we whirl on— a continuous everlasting dance— work our way through life's echelon in endless search for abundance.
11:24 a.m. I thought it was a sonnet, but it ended too soon.
11:32 a.m. Took a break to answer texts. I’m back. Let’s go over and rewrite a couple of rough patches.
Abundance by Michelle Garren-Flye
We pray for it, for enough— or just a little more— because when we get the stuff we will be happier than before.
It's something that we know— or something that we feel— whose elusivity may bring us low but we'll seek on with zeal.
Take my hand as we whirl on— a continuous everlasting dance— we'll work through the echelon in endless search for abundance.
11:51 a.m. I think the rhythm is better. Of course, “dance” and “abundance” rhyme is a stretch. Hope you enjoyed! We have one more tomorrow. Let’s see what we come up with.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
10:49 a.m. I thought I’d be able to keep my direction.
10:58 a.m. I obviously was not correct about that. But I’m back. I had to refresh my ideas about what I am writing about, which is my corner of the world.
It’s the only thing I’m in charge of.
It's not always neat and far from straight, this corner where I make my home. If you think you know it, baby, just wait, because this is my biome.
It's filled with books, kids, and my cats, and furniture near its end. If you expected more, well, I guess that's your problem, isn't it, friend?
There's nail polish in the rug, cat fur on the couch—and the dog smells. Though I can't entertain, I can hear purr and meow and bark—better than bells.
My decorating skills are not extensive, but this is my corner, my home where I live.
11:21 a.m. Took a little longer due to interruptions.
11:24 a.m. After re-reading, I wonder about switching the third and fourth stanzas.
My Corner by Michelle Garren-Flye
It's not always neat and far from straight, this corner where I make my home. If you think you know it, baby, just wait, because this is my biome.
There's nail polish in the rug, cat fur on the couch—and the dog smells. Though I can't entertain, I can hear purr and meow and bark—better than bells.
It's filled with books, kids, and my cats, and furniture near its end. If you expected more, well, I guess that's your problem, isn't it, friend?
My decorating skills are not extensive, but this is my corner, my home where I live.
11:26 a.m. Not sure. I think I like it better the other way.
My Corner by Michelle Garren-Flye
It's not always neat and far from straight, this corner where I make my home. If you think you know it, baby, just wait, because this is my biome.
It's filled with books, kids, and my cats, and furniture near its end. If you expected more, well, I guess that's your problem, isn't it, friend?
There's nail polish in the rug, cat fur on the couch—and various dog smells. Though I can't entertain, I can hear purr and meow and bark—better than bells.
My decorating skills are not extensive, but this is my corner, my home where I live.
11:28 a.m. Okay, yeah. That’s it.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
12:22 p.m. Today I get my first ever dental filling. I’m not even nervous, but it is a little irritating to have to use part of my day to do this. And they told me to eat ahead of time, and I’m not hungry lol.
Full disclosure, I started thinking of this one about half an hour ago. I was locking my door. It’s a gray day, but it felt brighter for a moment.
A moment in the sunlight but not quite— the light just brightened a bit and I thought I saw a shadow cast on my door like the clouds had broken but it was just a token of what will be tomorrow.
12:26 p.m. Not quite what I was thinking of but I like it.
Let’s hope for sunlight tomorrow.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
1:42 p.m. How do I write about all the things that are going through my head and heart right now? No sooner do I get a handle on one emotion than another is crowding the first one out.
I know. TMI. But I feel like that’s something we’re all experiencing pretty much all the time.
Last night I’m taking pictures of my daughter for prom and got a notification that shots had been fired at the White House Correspondents Dinner.
I ignored it.
I mean, this headline that once would have filled me with absolute horror meant absolutely nothing to me. I just didn’t care.
Seriously…what the hell? How can I not care about something like that? Even in the middle of one of my life’s most bittersweet moments.
I don’t think I’m wrong, and I really don’t think I’m alone.
Thus, today’s poem.
Out of the Fray by Michelle Garren-Flye
Far away gunfire doesn't shake the world in my neck of the woods. I'm too busy here trying to make life last in the local neighborhoods.
The headline that once would shatter a delicate moment of family glee now doesn't seem that much to matter; no, no it's difference at all to me.
I feel this change in my bones but I will continue to forge ahead. The world's quandaries and unknowns can no longer fill me with dread.
This is my corner and where I will stay. Just leave me out of the rest of the fray.
1:58 p.m. It’ll need to be edited a bit before publication, but that’s what I have for now.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
10:09 a.m. And here we are at day 25 of National Poetry Month. I’m drinking mushroom coffee, waiting for the day to start. It’s a big one. Senior Prom day for my daughter. Indie Bookstore Day. There’s a 5K in our little town. And it’s the day I write my 25th poem of the month.
Let’s go, then.
turn the open sign sip your coffee...wait for it the door will open and there they will be bringing the day in with them shattering your peace any minute now you hear them come...wait for it but no, they passed by they'll bring life with them when they open up the door sun and wind and rain family love shows hand in hand...just wait for it laughter lights your heart the sign says open and you've prepared a smile ready and waiting
10:21 a.m. It’s six haikus, not sure you’d notice. I like the flow of it. I think I like it better centered, but I can’t figure out how to do that on my blog. Of course. I’m certain there is a way.
Open by Michelle Garren-Flye
turn the open sign sip your coffee...wait for it the door will open and there they will be bringing the day in with them shattering your peace any minute now you hear them come...wait for it but no, they passed by they'll bring life with them when they open up the door sun and wind and rain family love shows hand in hand...just wait for it laughter lights your heart the sign says open and you've prepared a smile ready and waiting
10:34 a.m. Giving up. I do like it better centered. Screenshot below:
11:05 a.m. Yes, the day started.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 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
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.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 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.
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.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 