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. 🙂
Photo and poem copyright 2026 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.
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
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
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.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 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
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?
Photo and poem copyright 2026 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?
Photo and poem copyright 2026 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.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 