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.

Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye

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.

Poem and photo copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 14

Posted on April 14, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

10:40 a.m. One of the past years (can’t remember which) I wrote fortune cookie poetry. I cracked open a fortune cookie every morning and wrote a poem based on the fortune inside. Thought I’d try that live. Here goes:

Listen to the wisdom of the old
their words and memories may bore
but somewhere in them there is gold
that makes listening worth the chore

10:53 a.m. Took a short break to make a cup of coffee. Here we go. Again.

Believe inside each person of age
their real self still in their prime
resides within what might be a cage
stuck there counting minutes of time

11:11 a.m. make a wish.

11:12 a.m. I’m having a hard time not being trite with this one. Sonnet may not have been the best choice. Oh well, I’m committed now.

When bodies grow old and mind cobwebs
and life has entered its reprise
the tide that once crashed now ebbs
thoughts and wisdom don't come with ease

11:18 a.m. That one was not easy.

Still pay attention to the old man on the street
Because as we know, history is doomed to repeat

11:20 a.m. That’s not awful. Let’s see what it looks like all put together.

11:35 a.m. Okay, now let’s see what it all looks like with punctuation and rewrites. (Sorry, had a couple of interruptions.

Reprise
by Michelle Garren-Flye

When bodies grow old and mind cobwebs
and life has entered its reprise,
the tide that once crashed now ebbs
and wisdom doesn't come with ease.

Yet, listen to the wisdom of the old;
their words and memories may bore,
but somewhere in them there is gold
that makes the hearing worth the chore.

Believe inside each person of age
their real self still in their prime
resides within the fleshy cage
created by the passage of Time.

Pay heed to the old man on the street!
As we know, history is doomed to repeat.

11:45 a.m. I like the rewrite much better. I had a hard time with the title, though.

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 13

Posted on April 13, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

1:58 p.m. Late again! Gonna go back to my tried and true form of haiku, I think. See what you think:

spring cleaning unearths
past years' deserted treasures
you pause to address

still treasures or junk?
is it gold you've found hidden
or aluminum?

impossible choice
put it aside for today
pray strength tomorrow

2:05 p.m. I kind of like this. I love haiku’s little turn in the middle. It’s very like the way a sonnet has one in its last couplet. I wanted to see if I could do that with three haiku (with the last one being the turn) and still keep the turn in each one. It probably needs more work, but I have stuff to do today, so I’m going to call it.

Hope you enjoyed!

She’s definitely a treasure. Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 12

Posted on April 12, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

1:04 p.m. Happy Sunday! It’s my Saturday since I work Tuesday-Saturday, so it’s my day off, but I’m sitting in my bookstore writing my poem for the day. 🙂

In preparation for writing a poem today, I decided to research tanka, a Japanese form of poetry closely related to haiku.

Tanka follows a syllable number pattern of 5/7/5/7/7, and, like haiku, features a “turn” around the middle of the poem. It’s not usually rhyming, so let’s see what happens.

Artemis watches
as the tin can slingshots round
her lover the moon
she will let them return home
draped in victory this time

1:12 p.m. Okay, that was fun. A little darker than I’d intended. Instead of rewriting that one, I think I’ll try another.

valor, bravery
values they pin on heroes
proud soldiers of war
who thought, pinned down under fire,
I wish I'd known I was dead

1:16 p.m. I think I’m in a dark mood today. But I was brought up to believe you should leave a room better than you found it. So…although all this talk of war and drafts and bad economy can bring you down, I did stop to look at my irises again this morning.

Iris shines golden
warm sunlight on soft petals
tonight when dark falls
she will stand proud, straight, and brave
head up under Night's caress

1:22 p.m. I can’t say tanka is my favorite form. It’s much easier to be bright and shiny when you’re rhyming, maybe? But I don’t hate it.

What do you think?

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 11

Posted on April 11, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

10:34 a.m. I anticipate many interruptions today, so I’m going to get right to it. I saw, of all things, a Disney commercial today. It talked about playing. I also saw a VW bus parked in my neighbor’s carport. Intrigued, I stopped to talk to him about it. He said something about going to see a hippie band in it.

My brain combined the two things.

Sometimes you gotta stop to play
take a ride in a van to see a hippie band
splash in the puddles, act a little cray

the world's troubles on you may weigh
nothing may go as you had planned
so sometimes you gotta stop to play

you deserve to go on a break today
take a long walk along a beach of white sand
splash in the puddles, act a little cray

your life can sometimes go astray
or maybe you just imagined it more grand
sometimes you gotta stop to play

dress up is fun, or when the day is gray
play tag or castles, then go out and
splash in the puddles, act a little cray

games aren't just for kids, I say
when troubles make it hard to stand
that's when you gotta stop to play
splash in the puddles, act a little cray

11:11 a.m. make a wish.

11:12 a.m. It’s another villanelle. They’re both harder and easier than you might think. I’ve got to go over this one now. Make sure it’s got the right rhythm and rhyme.

Cray Play
by Michelle Garren-Flye

Sometimes you gotta stop to play:
take a ride in a van to see a hippie band,
splash in the puddles, act a little cray.

The world's troubles on you will weigh;
nothing may go as you had planned,
so sometimes you gotta stop to play.

You deserve to go on a break today!
Take a long walk along a beach of white sand,
splash in the puddles, act a little cray.

Your life can sometimes go astray—
or maybe you just imagined it more grand?
Maybe you ought to stop to play.

Dress up is fun, or when the day is gray
play tag or castles, then go out and
splash in the puddles, act a little cray.

Games aren't just for kids, I say!
When troubles make it hard to stand,
that's when you gotta stop to play,
splash in the puddles, act a little cray.

11:26 a.m. Done. What do you think?

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 10

Posted on April 10, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

1:04 p.m. Something happened to me yesterday, and I want to preserve it. So I know what I want to write about but not what form. Let’s see what happens…

1:05 p.m.

i'm never going to be okay
was what i thought that day
but joy walked in

her bubbly enthusiasm
reached me across the chasm
i'd stuck myself in

and i couldn't help but wonder
if my sadness was a blunder
my depression a sin

i let her essence
sneak into my presence
though happiness was thin

i'll be back she said
and i forgot my dread
and what might have been

it's gonna be all right
every good thing in sight
because joy walked in

1:16 p.m. It’s honestly not what I was thinking of writing, which was more of a freeform kind of thing. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve forgotten how to write a freeform poem. Is that possible? That you forget how not to rhyme? Should we call Dr. Seuss syndrome? No doubt he would think of a more creative name. Anyway, here’s a go at rewriting:

joy
by michelle garren-flye

i'm never going to be okay
was what i thought that day
until joy walked in

her bubbly enthusiasm
reached me across the chasm
i'd stuck myself in

and i couldn't help but wonder
if my sadness was a blunder
my depression a sin

i let her essence
sneak into my presence
a warmth on my skin

i'll be back she said
and i forgot my dread
about what might have been

it's gonna be all right
every good thing now in sight
because joy walked in

1:22 p.m. I dunno. I’m running late with this one today, but maybe tomorrow I’ll try to rewrite in a freeform.

Happy National Poetry Month: Day 9

Posted on April 9, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

10:50 a.m. Once again, I approach with nothing particular in mind.

I’m seeing more green on my morning walks. It’s nothing terribly new now. Spring has definitely done sprung. I love all the green, but I remember when I saw the first new sprigs.

Yesterday my horoscope asked me why I was holding onto the past so hard. It’s true. I do. The past is very important to me. Some things I want to remember. Some things I’d prefer to forget. Why do I want to hold onto all that? Because the future is unknown and I am afraid.

11:01 a.m. Sorry, had to take a quick break and make a cup of coffee. I have, from my musings above, come up with a kernel of an idea. I believe it will be another villanelle.

Let’s go!

let go of the past you've already seen
embrace what's to come, even the unknown 
let go of the past, the future is green

you know where you are and where you've been
there's nothing left there for which to atone
let go of the past you've already seen

the beauty of then will remain pristine
but time that has passed is already gone
let go of the past, the future's still green

i understand you lingering over that sheen
of what you accomplished with simple backbone
but let go of the past you've already seen

life has a way of casting a screen
making the past difficult to dethrone
but let go of the past the future is green

the road ahead may make you a queen
all you have to do is move on
let go of the past you've already seen
trust me, the future's still green

11:26 a.m. A few mild interruptions, but I managed the rough draft. Let’s see how long it takes to edit…

Let's Go
by Michelle Garren-Flye

Let go of the past you've already seen;
embrace what's to come, even the unknown. 
Let go of the past, the future is green.

You know where you are and where you've been—
there's nothing left there for which to atone.
Let go of the past you've already seen.

The beauty of "Then" will remain pristine,
but time that has passed is already gone.
Let go of the past, the future's still green.

I understand you lingering over the sheen
of what you accomplished with simple backbone,
but let go of the past you've already seen.

Life has a way of casting a screen
that makes the past difficult to dethrone,
but let go of the past! The future is green.

The road ahead may make you a queen;
all you have to do is move on,
let go of the past you've already seen,
and trust what lies ahead is still green.

11:37 a.m. When I was trying to come up with a title, I realized I already had it. That’s what I call serendipity.

Have an awesome day. Every minute is one more step into the future!

Photo and poetry copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye

Happy National Poetry Month: Poem 8

Posted on April 8, 2026 by Michelle Garren-Flye

10:38 a.m. Here I am, fresh out of ideas of things to write about lol. But I think I’d like to write a villanelle. And as I am as inspired by our space heroes as anyone, I believe it will be about space. So here goes.

Catch a falling star for me, won't you?
Cup it in your hand and run to me;
light my face, my smile anew.

All the world may be astrew,
bombs fall, life thrown away with glee,
but catch a falling star for me, won't you?

I'll watch the brilliance break through
fingers clenched tight, and you will see
it light my face, my smile all new.

Wars are waged, the world is a zoo,
but right here and now, I can be happy;
catch a falling star for me, won't you?

Joys in this life may be few
grabbing onto them is the key
light my face, my smile anew

Up in space, you get a different view
where gravity releases and you are free
Catch a falling star for me, won't you?
Light my face, my smile anew.

11:04 a.m. Took a minute, but that’s the gist. Going to go over it again.

My Starlight Smile
by Michelle Garren-Flye

Catch a falling star for me, won't you?
Cup it in your hand and run to me;
light my face, my smile anew.

All the world may be astrew,
bombs fall, lives thrown away with glee,
but catch a falling star for me, won't you?

Just watch the brilliance break through
fingers clenched tight, and you will see
it light my face, my smile all new.

Wars are waged, the world is a zoo,
but right here and now, I can be happy;
catch a falling star for me, won't you?

Joys in this life may be few,
grabbing onto them is the key
to light my face, my smile renew.

Up in space, you get a different view
where gravity releases and you are free.
Catch a falling star for me, won't you?
Light my face, my smile anew.

11:10 a.m. I think that’s about it for today. There’s a store full of kids here and they’re very interested in the cat. And the cat isn’t terribly happy.

11:11 a.m. Make a wish.