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
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
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.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
10:18 a.m. Today I should be at work, but I’m at home because this is where I need to be. You see, on Easter Sunday, I went downstairs into our basement and discovered about six inches of water. Fun stuff.
Of course, it happened on Easter. National holiday and all that jazz. Fortunately I have a plumber who doesn’t mind me texting him, and so I did, but I added, please don’t come today. (I knew the price would be astronomical.) I then went downstairs and whacked my sump pump with a broomstick and it kicked on and started working.
Seriously when does that happen?
Anyway, long story short, the plumber is here today, and it’s not going to cost me my food budget for the month, and so I’m making this corner of my world a little better.
But what am I going to write about?
Basements in Eastern North Carolina? Creepy and not the best choice at all.
Plumbers who come to your rescue? Love them, but not poetic.
Which leaves me with the irises that are growing outside my house.
Queens of flowers.
They guard secrets.
This is feeling poetic.
10:26 a.m.
10:35 a.m. Okay, I may have to come back to this. My brain just isn’t doing the poetic thing right now. I’m going to go read over some of my old poems and see if I can get any fresh ideas.
12:39 p.m. That happens sometimes. Just a bit of difficulty focusing with other stuff going on. I’m not writing about Queen Iris, I don’t think. But I’m back in my bookstore now, plumbing has been settled for the moment. I’m counting blessings.
Ode to the Book I Just Sold by Michelle Garren-Flye
It's not always easy, the bookseller life— sometimes you want to stop a sale. I want to keep that one, your soul will wail as the last touch cuts your heart like a knife.
But letting go is what it's about so little book I love, go out into the world! Come back read, with pages bent and curled; spread the knowledge readers can't do without.
Better, isn't it, than sitting on a shelf all day? At least maybe make it to a reader's nightstand where some night she'll pick you up, unplanned, and get sucked into the worlds you display.
1:20 p.m. Maybe not the best poem I’ve written, but not horrible. I’m running late so I’m not going to rewrite now.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
10:50 a.m. I’ve been thinking a lot about my corner of the world. My concept is that if everyone concentrated on making their corner of the world, no matter how big or small, a better place, the entire world would follow.
I know how lucky I am in my corner of the world. I have a beautiful home (currently with some plumbing issues, but you know…), and I have my store. I’ve worked very hard to make both warm and happy and beautiful.
Anyway, I think I’m going to use this concept for my next poetry book. And in that vein, today I want to write a poem about my corner of the world.
11 a.m.
If my corner of the world is dark I find a lamp to give it light if the walls are white and stark I add a painting to save its plight
Silence is sometimes what I need but I welcome a cat's sweet purr and musical ditties that bleed into nights when insects chirr
Soft grass outside, carpets within greet tired feet after a long day pillows for heads laid down in chagrin I'm finally done with this long fray.
Make your corner of the world safe and true to what you wish to see in the larger view.
11:11 make a wish.
11:12 Moving on. Now for a rewrite:
My Corner of the World by Michelle Garren-Flye
If my corner of the world is dark I find a lamp to give it light. If the walls are white and stark I add a painting to make it right.
Silence is sometimes what I need, but I welcome a cat's sweet purr and musical ditties that bleed into nights when insects chirr.
Soft grass outside, carpets within, greet tired feet after a long day. Pillows for heads laid down in chagrin— and finally done with the long fray.
Make your corner of the world safe and true to what you wish to see in the larger view.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
2:15 p.m. Happy Easter! It’s raining a bit here, and I just got back in town after visiting my son, so I thought I’d write a poem about driving.
Haiku seems to lend itself to that, so here goes:
driving down the road windshield covered with pollen wipers don't work well
raindrops spread yellow in spatters across the glass i look into past
mistakes that haunt me a life survived recklessly weaving through the lanes
hard to spot flowers growing on the road's shoulder through yellow splotches
so i pull over i breathe and seek clarity and wipe the slate clean
2:28 p.m. I had to stop and think a little along the way, but I believe this captured that feeling I had as I drove today, my mind dwelling too long on past mistakes and missteps. It’s easy to get mired down in guilt.
Quick re-write and title:
driving down the road windshield covered with pollen wipers don't work well
raindrops spread yellow in spatters across the glass i look into past
mistakes that haunt me a life survived recklessly weaving through the lanes
hard-to-spot flowers flourish on the road's shoulder through yellow splotches
so i pull over i breathe and seek clarity— wipe the window clean
2:35 p.m. What do you think? I didn’t want to go into too much detail, but I did get sort of mired down and it felt like pollen on the windshield.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
11 a.m. Trying to get started a little early today. Saturdays are usually busy at the store, and I have absolutely no idea what to write. I did take some pretty pictures this morning.
I think I’ll write about the pink rose. It’s the first perfect rose I’ve seen this spring. Others have been half bloomed or stunted by the cold snaps we’ve had. This one had perfect timing. Let’s try a villanelle.
Spring arrives with green glows flowers, trees, insects abound and you, finally, a perfect rose.
Pay no mind when wind blows frost is gone till winter rolls round spring has arrived with green glows.
and you, finally, a perfect rose
spring arrives with green glows
and you, finally, a perfect rose
spring arrives with green glows
and you, finally, a perfect rose
11:12 a.m. Pausing a moment here because I had to stop anyway to wait on someone at the store. It’s empty again, but I thought I’d explain how I write villanelle. It has a rhyming pattern where you use the same first and third lines. I usually end up altering those lines a bit. (You can tell I did at the end of the second verse above.) But to keep myself on track, I lay the sort of cornerstones before I write. Those are the last lines of each verse.
11:17 a.m. Back to it!
Spring arrives with green glows flowers, trees, insects abound and you, finally, a perfect rose.
Pay no mind when wind blows frost is gone till winter rolls round spring has arrived with green glows.
Sun is needed, everyone knows to make violets and clover abound— and you, finally, a perfect rose
There's no way to express in prose how it feels when winter loses ground and spring arrives with green glows
when everything thaws that cold froze and pinks, reds, yellows arrive to astound with you, finally, a perfect rose
When spring arrives with green glows take a moment to rest and look around Nature puts on her finest clothes and dons, finally, a perfect rose
11:30 a.m. Finished, but looking back over it, I see a repeated rhyme (one that shouldn’t be repeated!). Lots of people in the store, but I’m going to get started on the rewrite now./
A Perfect Rose by Michelle Garren-Flye
Spring arrives with green glows flowers, trees, insects abound— and you, finally, a perfect rose.
Pay no mind when the wind blows! Frost is gone till winter rolls round. Spring has arrived with green glows.
Sun is needed, everyone knows, to warm the bluebird's song into sound and summon you, my perfect rose.
There's no way to express in prose how it feels when winter loses ground and spring arrives with green glows,
when everything thaws that cold froze, and pinks, reds, yellows arrive to astound and give us at last a perfect rose.
When spring arrives with green glows take a moment to rest and look around as Nature puts on her finest clothes and dons, finally, a perfect rose.
11:40 a.m. Amazing what a few minutes of quiet time can do for you. I think it’s good now. What do you think?
12:26 p.m. When I can’t think of anything to write about (like today), I write haiku. So today, I’ve decided, literally just now, to write a linked haiku. What about? Well, I just wrote a short article about a ghost cat. How about that? I shall write:
Ghost Cat by the Sea Haiku
12:28
sea breeze passes by without ruffling his fur ghost cat waits, lonely
sandy shores are home to him he plays with side walking crabs
at night the light spears through the sky above the shoals ghost cat waits, on guard
did once his feat trod the deck as he hunted mice below?
morning visitors spot him in the deep shadows ghost cat purrs for them
but nights are long on the shore as ghost cat waits for the morn
12:36 p.m. Okay. Not awful. Now a quick rewrite.
ghost cat by the sea by michelle garren-flye
sea breeze passes by without ruffling his fur ghost cat waits, lonely
did once his feat trod the deck of a ship long lost to wreck?
morning visitors spot him in the deep shadows ghost cat purrs for them
the nights are long on the shore as ghost cat waits for the morn
he sees the light spear starry sky above the shoals ghost cat waits, on guard
one hundred years on this shore he may play here a hundred more
12:52 p.m. There’s one extra syllable in one of the lines, but it doesn’t mess things up, so I’m leaving it. I like the flow of the poem better now. It makes more sense to start in the light and move to the darkness. I also re-wrote a couple of lines.
For anyone interested, this is inspired by the ghost cat of Hatteras lighthouse. You can google it. Also google the cats left on the ghost ship Carol A. Deering. These three cats, the only survivors of the famous ghost ship, are only tangentially linked to the ghost cat of Hatteras as it is commonly believed to have belonged to a past lighthouse keeper. However, it has been speculated he might be one of the Deering’s cats.
Maybe he’s waiting there for the captain.
Photo and poem copyright 2026 Michelle Garren-Flye
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 