#39
Skittish red dragon
Flits away, finally rests
On a skinny twig
Haiku #39: The Red Dragon
Tag Archives: hope
Poem: No Edges
No Edges
By Michelle Garren Flye
I decided to be edgy much too late
Soft living makes soft edges
And those are just curves
Rounded spaces don’t agree
With razor sharpness
Anyway
So I’ll just go on preserving
Circular surroundings
(Circles have no end, no beginning
They mean forever
And a day
But that’s too long for anyone sane)
And leave the sharp spears
To the young people
Those who can still afford
To poke holes
Where they don’t belong.
poem: hope
hope
by michelle garren flye
just when all is lost and
the warriors are all gone
leaving dust and bones
swirling at my feet
“look here” you whisper
and I turn to find a rainbow
arching over ruins
as if growing from death
it sparkles like magic
made from diamond tears
wept by poets for politicians
abandoned in the quagmire
it’s a gentle misdirection
and I a willing participant
in your ongoing seduction
of whispered promises
I surrender to your will
surely nothing can be needed
when hope springs from death
and arcs over destruction
surely this is a sign—
the one we’ve waited for
that life will be better soon
that there’s always hope
Poem: Rain and Shine (for Chris)
Rain and Shine
By Michelle Garren Flye
When did it rain?
I never heard thunder
Or wind or raindrops.
When did they fall?
It must have happened
Behind the scenes
While we were busy
Doing something else.
Something important.
Raising kids, living life,
Paying bills…surviving.
I didn’t know it rained.
Just like so many other
Things have happened
In the background.
It’s funny how you start:
Focused on each other,
Certain nothing will change.
But then it does.
Work and family and life
All change you.
And rain falls unnoticed
Until you see the puddles,
And then you notice the wet
And open an umbrella.
Only then do I see
A gardenia has bloomed.
Sometime in the night
It burst from the bud
In pure and splendid beauty.
Would it have bloomed
If the rain hadn’t come?
If we’d watched all day
In the sun, would it appear?
I don’t even know if it matters.
Drops of rain cling to the petals,
Magnifiying a single ray of sun.
So many wonderful things, so much hope (and a poem)
I’m seeing so many wonderful things happening in my little town during this COVID-19 outbreak, I can’t help but be hopeful. Yes, the downtown is a bit of a ghost town (as it should be), but friends and strangers are reaching out in whatever ways they can to help support the businesses that are suffering, including my little bookstore.
I’m seeing teachers reaching out to students, helping them adjust to distance learning and trying to reassure them. Schools are sending lunches out to children in the community. Everyone in the education community is doing their best to help kids accept the “new normal” that might be with us for quite a while.
No, none of this is okay. But with a little faith, it will be, and you can find faith in unexpected places.
Finding Faith
By Michelle Garren Flye
Faith grows in unexpected places
You find it in the darkest spaces
And on the homeliest faces
And sometimes in bright daylight
Even out in plain sight
Or in the laughter of pure delight
It can be found in the smile of a child
Or growing free in the wild
Or possibly among the papers you filed
Just watch and you’ll see
How easy it can be
You’ll find your faith eventually.
Blog Tours: The Why and Where I am Today
In my first journalism class, I learned about the who, what, when, where, why and how. Today I kicked off my umpteenth blog tour for my fourteenth (?I think?) book. So who is me, what is a blog tour, when is now and how is through Goddess Fish, a blog tour company I’ve worked with successfully before.
Why is a little tougher. Why do blog tours? I already blog. Sometimes I neglect my own blog, so why write guest posts and interviews for someone else’s blog? Why pay a third party to set it up? Simple. Hope.
Hope that somebody who reads these blogs will want to read my book. Hope that they’ll love it enough to tell ten friends and at least five of those friends will love it enough to tell ten more. And so on.
Hope springs eternal in the breast of every born writer. We are made of hope or we wouldn’t keep writing. We exist on hope because we know our writing is never going to support us. We live for hope because without it, there is nothing.
Today, I hope you’ll join me at Edgar’s Books for an interview in which I speak about what makes Becoming Magic different from everything else I’ve written and from much of what is available in the romance market these days. I also reveal what my first reaction is to a bad review. And why I hope I keep getting them.
Find me here: Becoming Magic: Book Tour and Blog Giveaway. Oh yeah, and there is a giveaway to register for, too!
“But”: A Poem for Independence
Happy birthday, America. You’re 241 years old. Congratulations.
You’re still an infant on the world stage. An infant with a very big gun, but an infant still.
Maybe that’s why we’ve allowed you to get to this state. Mass deportations, guns in every pocket, a tyrannical toddler in charge, squabbling lawmakers unwilling to compromise, and worst of all, your beautiful land pockmarked and disfigured, air polluted and waters spoiled by avarice.
But.
But you’re a lovely idea, a perfect ideal to work toward. We’ve only taken a moment to tend to our worst selves. We’ll get back to the job eventually. We’ll return to the original intent of our forefathers. I believe that.
And I love you.
“I love America more than any other country in this world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.” — James Baldwin
But
By Michelle Garren Flye
Lady Liberty holds a tablet and a torch—
The law of freedom, the light of hope.
But what does it mean when guns fill the street?
When drugs are offered but food is not?
Fear is the only law. There is no defense.
What happened to our freedom?
Some fight still for their most basic rights,
But the Bible of an intolerant God quashes them.
Your love is wrong. Your life is less.
Where is the light of hope?
It shines still, cutting a swath through darkness.
Land of plenty, home of brave, promises made—
But will they be honored?
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 