Day 13: Happy National Poetry Month

Posted on April 13, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

I’ve never been reliant on poetry prompts before, but this month they’re really helping me out. I’m not doing the live writing today because I’ve already had a thousand interruptions, but I will tell you this is a fresh poem I wrote from a prompt I got here. It’s number 22, and, just as I’ve never liked relying on poetry prompts, I especially (usually) despise prompts like this one that give you specific words to use.

And yet, that’s the one that caught my eye. As a nod to the fact that I am definitely not always right, I used the prompt words for the title. I hope you enjoy this one. It’ll probably be in my book of love poetry. Possibly with a different title.

new rain card chance

by michelle garren-flye

i’m putting pieces of me together everyday

finding them in unexpected places

maybe i lost a small one down a drain

that i’ll find again in the rain

my mother sent one to me in a birthday card

i neglected to open until now

this search takes a toll it’s really hard

but with every moment i learn more about

how to check the hard-to-reach spaces

behind shelves and above cupboards

there’s no telling how far the bits of me strew

when my heart broke into a thousand pieces

i doubt i’ll find them all before i die—

I can replace what’s lost with something new.

I mowed my lawn yesterday, painful as it was to mow buttercups.
Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 12: Happy National Poetry Month

Posted on April 12, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

Good morning! It’s 10:15 a.m. and I’ve just gotten settled at my desk with a cup of coffee and no idea what kind of poem to present you with. So I’ve decided to try the live poetry writing again. I kind of enjoyed that. Much more than I enjoy my live poetry readings, lol.

So I’m off to find another poetry prompt.

10:23. I found one. It’s not going to be an easy one to write. You can find it here. The prompt is: Write about neglect.

10:30. Sorry. Got distracted by my cat. I’m back.

Neglect (working title)

By Michelle Garren-Flye

How long since I looked at you?

You’re withered, turned brown,

no more blooms of blue,

lonely face droops down.

Mama shifts in her chair,

I know she’s in constant pain—

but the nurses did her hair.

(10:44. I have customers so going to have to take a break.)

(10:51. Where was I? Oh yeah.)

Mama shifts in her chair,

I know she’s in constant pain—

but the nurses did her hair.

And I’ve been away too long.

Walk away for a while,

forget to answer the phone

or water the plant

or leave someone alone.

(10:55. More customers. Might be interrupted again…)

Mama clings to my ginger hug,

her body so delicate, my own

health felt like a rude insult.

This old hospital is killing me.

(11:20. I was right. I was interrupted. Multiple times.)

When the mourning’s over, though,

drop the dead into the trash bin

even as tears track down, slow

when you remember the body so thin.

(11:32. First draft finished. Going to see if I can do a rewrite now.

(11:56. I finished it. And ouch. Read if you want.)

Neglect

By Michelle Garren-Flye

How long since I looked at you?

You’re withered, turned brown,

no more blooms of blue,

lonely face drops down.

Mama shifts in her chair,

I know she’s in constant pain—

but the nurse did her hair…

and I’ve been away too long.

Walk away, pretend it’s only a while,

forget to answer the phone

or water the plant

and leave someone alone too long.

Mama clings to my ginger hug,

her body so delicate, my own

health feels like a snub.

“This old hospital is killing me.”

When the mourning is over, though,

drop the dead into the trash bin,

even as tears track down slow

when you remember the body so thin.

Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 11: Happy National Poetry Month!

Posted on April 11, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

Once again I went to the internet to find a poetry prompt this morning. This one came from Poets & Writers and is highly appropriate for me although I did tweak it a bit. It says to write an ode to your favorite singer, placing them in a particular moment in time.

What better prompt for someone who can’t get through a day without listening to K-pop, right? I didn’t write this poem to anyone in particular, though. It’s more an ode to the genre, which is why the title is “Noraebang”, the anglicized word for the Korean word for “Karaoke”. It literally means “music (norae) room (bang)”, which is what I try to imagine my head is sometimes. An empty space that I fill with the good feelings of the music I’ve filled my life with.

Music is a funny thing. It twines itself into our memories and feelings. I reached a point in my life where a lot of the music I had enjoyed for a large portion of my life was too twisted into a part of my feelings that I needed to get away from…and then K-pop happened. A genre of music that is mostly positive and was completely new.

It helped me rebuild myself. And that’s what this little ode is meant to share.

Noraebang

By Michelle Garren-Flye

When I can’t sleep

I listen to you instead:

turn up the music

and you fill my head.

Push out all the doubt

that plagues my soul.

Fling off the loneliness,

allow me to be whole.

It’s only a sweet moment,

this stolen away time,

but for that space I feel

as if everything rhymes.

A photo I took at my first K-pop concert (Stray Kids) from last month.
Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 10: Happy National Poetry Month!

Posted on April 10, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

And this is what I love about poetry. Mostly it grows naturally.

And this is what frustrates me about poetry. Natural growth can take a while.

By “naturally”, I mean that poetry is mostly organic. A seed is planted in your brain and then, bam, it’s a poem. Last night for instance, I was staying at an Airbnb with my daughter. I saw this set of instructions for guests.

I laughed and asked my daughter, “Well, that’s fine for summer and winter. But what about weather like this, like in weird spring?” (There was a frost warning last night, to give you an idea.) And then I said, “Weird Spring would be a great name for a band.”

She agreed and we moved on, but those two words stuck in my brain. And it turns out, they make a pretty decent poem, too.

Weird Spring

By Michelle Garren-Flye

That moment when the air stops

and a stillness falls

like just before a storm

but then the music crashes in

and it’s weird spring

and you’re on the road again

with violets blooming

on the brick walls

and words dripping from arbors

like sweet-smelling jasmine

or wistful wisteria

and everything is purple all day long

and gold at night

when you hold my hand in the moonlight

because it’s weird spring

and anything is possible.

Weird Spring flowers. 😉 Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye.

Day 9: Happy National Poetry Month!

Posted on April 9, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

I did another live on Instagram today. You can check it out by clicking on the lovely picture below:

Day 8: Happy National Poetry Month!

Posted on April 8, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

Translation is an art in itself; it is the re-creative process of transforming the magic of one language into the magic of another.

—Kahlil Gibran

Recently I have jumped on the train of people watching Korean dramas. I never thought I could be so addicted to watching television with subtitles! It’s not that I’m a language snob, it’s just that I’m lazy.

And yet, here I am, watching one Korean drama on Netflix after another. There seems to be a never-ending supply of them. And they all tell compelling stories with humor and intelligence and empathy I can’t seem to find in most of the stuff coming out of Hollywood these days.

Recently I’ve been watching to the end so I can catch the translators’ names. I always say a quick thank you to these gods of language because without them I would never understand these beautiful stories I’ve fallen in love with.

I ran across the quote at the top of this post the other day and it got me started thinking about the art of translation. I wrote this (very) rough draft while thinking about translation. I will admit the image I used in the poem was more Japanese than Korean because I think it is beautiful the way Japanese writing falls from the top of the page instead of our bland left to right thing.

Don’t be surprised if you see this poem in my book of love poetry. Love comes in many forms and I definitely love that someone takes the time to translate beautiful things. A note, though, that it will probably take some editing for this one. I just wrote it and I’m not sure about the format, the rhyme or even some of the wording. And that last line seems sort of…bland.

Translation

By Michelle Garren-Flye

Words drip into my ear,

hang from an imagined sky,

but I am helpless to hear…

They are a mystery in my eye,

and I despair until you appear.

(I’m glad you didn’t miss my cry!)

Oh, draw your finger down the vine

of cryptic crosswords I cannot crack—

the codes of other worlds I want to find,

the loves of other dreams I cannot track.

Your key to this language is sublime—

my translator is the gift for which I thank.

Day 7: Happy National Poetry Month!

Posted on April 7, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

It’s 11:15 a.m. I have not written a poem to share. Nope. So I’m going to write one right now. Live…ish.

Excuse me a moment while I go find a prompt I like.

Oooh. Found one. On this website. Number 10. “Create a gallery of your heart. Take readers on a guided tour of what they might see there.” That immediately sparked my imagination. So here goes.

Heart Gallery

By Michelle Garren Flye

Watch your step, it’s showing its age

this old heart gallery of mine.

But really the cracks set the stage

and let the artwork shine!

Over here, memories of days gone—

you’ll see Mama’s picture set up high—

and the nest from which I’ve long since flown,

those who watched as I took to the sky.

Baby pictures, treasures—it may seem inane—

letters of old love, scraps of life on display…

Most of it appears designed to cause me pain—

the open book of my past I failed to file away.

I will not banish any of it from my trove,

because, above all, I feel only love.

It’s 11:45 a.m. I just finished the edits. It’s not bad. A sort of sonnet. What do you think?

Maybe I should’ve used the moon for a prompt? I’ve done it before, though.
Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 6: Happy National Poetry Month!

Posted on April 6, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

Sorry to be a bit late with this one, but I wrote it literally an hour ago. Had to let it sit for a bit to make sure it’s not too bad to share. I don’t think it is. What do you think?

Wanna?

By Michelle Garren-Flye

Warm sun burning skin,

wind’s touch cools, swirls sandy beach—

but I am not there.

Wanna come with me?

We’ll watch the waves crash ashore,

feel peace for a while.

Wait, though, I’m not sure…

Waves, wind, and sand are precious.

Do I wanna share?

More Beach Evening Primrose. Aren’t they just so pretty? Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye.

Day 5: Happy National Poetry Month!

Posted on April 5, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

Good morning! I’m feeling kinda good this morning because I did something last night that I haven’t in a while. Instead of firing up Netflix after my shower, I pulled out my computer…and wrote a poem.

It turned out pretty well, too.

I’m not going to share it here, though. Sorry. I’m not being coy, but I do want to save something for my book of love poetry, and this one fits.

However, I am going to share a poem. I write a haiku to post on the message board at my store (I own a bookstore). I write a haiku every month for that message board. Of course, they’re promoting reading/books, but it’s fun and keeps me in the 5-7-5 practice.

Anyway, I finished my April one a bit late this morning, and thought I’d share it here for my daily poetry post. It’s something a little different to keep things spicy! 🙂

Photo and Haiku copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 4: Happy National Poetry Month!

Posted on April 4, 2023 by Michelle Garren-Flye

So I may have missed my mark by a few hundred years. I believe I belonged in the time of romantic poets. Shelley, Byron. Keats, Dickinson… Today’s successful poets write about social issues in a way I wish I could write. I’ve tried. It mostly (a few exceptions) ends up sounding trite.

But writing love poetry, romance, looking at the moon—that’s my jam, man. lol. (what decade am I actually living in?)

I wrote this little poem yesterday. It was much less good until I wrote it today. Now it’s much gooder. To give you an idea, this is the original ending: