Poem: Mother’s Day Petrarchan

Mother’s Day is a day of mixed feelings for me. I have kids who can’t always be with me all day on Mother’s Day anymore because, guess what?, if you raise your kids right, they go off and get jobs and significant others (who inconveniently also have mothers) (that’s a joke), and sometimes even homes of their own. I am fortunate to have three wonderful children who all love me and who all take the time to wish me a happy Mother’s Day, whether they are with me or not. I am proud of them and their accomplishments, even when I wish I could spend more time with them.

My own mother passed away in February two years ago. And I’m divorced, so, although I still care very much for my ex’s mother, I haven’t seen her, and communication is difficult. I went from having two mothers I celebrated to having memories of them, mostly.

On Mother’s Day, honor your mother. But also remember the motherless children and the childless mothers. In honor of all mothers and all children, I made an attempt at a Petrarchan sonnet. I’ve always found them difficult, and I’m far from certain I got it right.

Mother’s Day Petrarchan
By Michelle Garren-Flye

All the world seems full of scent and flower;
there is no thought of tears or sorrow here.
Have you ever seen the blue sky so clear?
Absolutely no chance of a shower.
Ease is an arboreous bower!
Spring is not the time for sadness, my dear;
please recognize this is the month for cheer,
and worship this time, adore each hour.
But...is this day not one of amity?
Remembrance can cast a dusky shadow…
although I think it’s mostly vanity.
I say this now with all due gravity:
A mother’s love is much more than most know;
Death cannot reduce its capacity.

This year, I decided to buy my mother roses. I have her picture in my bookstore, and I put the roses next to it. She was never able to visit my store but I know she would have loved it. So I keep her picture on a shelf and remember her every day. I know I am fortunate to have had a mother like her. One I want to remember.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mama. Copyright 2025 Michelle Garren-Flye

National Poetry Month: Fortune Cookie Poetry 30: “It’s not the end yet. Let’s stay with it.

hee hee ha ha…ya gotta be kidding me?

If ever I’ve wondered if God had a sense of humor, this was answered today. I honestly howled with laughter when I read today’s fortune. And I swear by all that is holy, that is today’s fortune. I’d just been thinking thank goodness this is the last one when I pulled that fortune out of the cookie. I wish there’d been a camera on me because I honestly felt like somebody was pranking me.

Maybe somebody is. Maybe it’s my balloon-man telling me there’s more to come out of fortune cookies than I know. Maybe even a book?

Whatever. This has been a wonderful month creatively. I’ve written some of my best poetry, and I don’t think I’ve written some of my worst this month, so there’s some creative growth that has occurred. So good. I wrote when I was sick, when I was traveling, when work was busy, when I was finishing up an editing project…I never missed a day during all that.

I do thank you for reading it all. I’ll keep you posted if the fortune cookies decide it’s a good idea to fill up a book. 🙂

Photo and poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye
It’s not the end yet. Let’s stay with it.

What a Month
By Michelle Garren-Flye

I’m tired and distracted and ready to go.
I’ve other things to do that take up my time!
Don’t overstay, you’re breaking the flow.

Life goes on may be a tale of woe,
and that’s easy to say when it’s not your dime.
I’m tired and distracted and ready to go

We’ve had a great run, but this I know:
drawing out a good thing would be a crime.
Don’t overstay, you’re breaking the flow.

If needs were less or the pace would slow,
if only I could be forever in my prime!
But I’m tired, distracted, and ready to go.

This month has left us much to show.
It hasn’t been easy, but we made the climb!
Don’t overstay now, you’ll break the flow.

I’m guessing you’d like a little quid pro quo,
and I thank you for reading all my rhythm and rhyme.
Now I’m tired and distracted and ready to go.
Don’t overstay. You’re breaking the flow.

New Year’s Eve reflections about life in the dark

Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come whispering, “It will be happier.”

Alfred Lord Tennyson

I wrote my last post about light on the darkest day of the year. Today, the eve of a new year (New Year’s Day in some places already), is supposed to be all about light and hope. And in spite of my optimistic Winter Solstice resolutions about hoping without reason and loving without expectation (and I intend to stick to those, I promise), I cannot help but think about the previous New Year’s Eves when I threw open my front door to welcome those years into my life:

New Year’s Eve 2019: The end of a decade, the beginning of a new one! (uhhh…guess what 2020 has in store? Pandemic.)

New Year’s Eve 2020: God, I’m glad this year is over, let’s move on! (still pandemicking…and personal crap broke me…)

New Year’s Eve 2021: Well, that year sucked. Let’s try next year on for size! (still pandemicking and the personal crap intensified…)

I think it’s best to approach the end of 2022 without expecting too much from 2023. Instead, let’s look inside for the change we need. That’s why I intend to stick to my two Winter Solstice resolutions.

Hope. Even when it’s dark and it’s been dark and you’re bone cold and can’t imagine warmth ever again. Hope because if you believe the light is coming, maybe it will. If you give up on it, though, you will never see it even if it does come.

Love. Let love be its own reward. Love your family if you’re lucky enough to have them. Love the people around you. Love things. Love music. Love a flower that peeks up through the sidewalk if that’s the only thing you can find to love. Love the feel of the sun when it shines. Just love because it feels good to love and it will give you strength.

I will still open the door at midnight on New Year’s Eve. I will welcome the new year with hope even if there’s no reason to. I will love the new year, but I won’t expect anything from it. Because life is indifferent to me, and I will have to accept it all…good and bad…regardless. But if I believe the light is coming, at least I’ll have my eyes open when it does.

Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye. Copyright 2022 Michelle Garren-Flye

Happy Thanksgiving…have a fortune cookie?

I’ve picked up an interesting tradition? habit? madness? (You pick)

Every few days I have a fortune cookie. And I either shrug off the fortune inside or spend the next few days pondering it. Yesterday I got a fortune that read “A person who wants to sing will find a song.” (Or something to that effect. I think I lost the fortune…)

That one has stuck with me. Because it’s true, and I have spent far too much time living my life for wishes to think it isn’t. Because I can make as many wishes as I want, but there’s no wish fairy out there fulfilling them. Wishing is, quite simply, a way to focus my intent on something I want.

I want success, so I’m finding ways to make it happen.

I want happiness, so I’m learning to concentrate on the things I have in my life that make me happy. (And deal with the things that don’t without letting them upset my apple cart.)

I want a cherry red Ferrari for free— Okay, maybe not. (Adam Sandler fans will get that one.)

I’m still looking for the song I want to sing. I will have to write it myself, and I know that it won’t be easy, it won’t look exactly like I once pictured, and it won’t be the only thing in my life.

Nobody’s life is filled with one thing. It’s mixed up with the good and the bad, but if I want the good, I can choose it. If I want to be happy, I’ll find that happy in the middle of everything else. I can succeed if I’m willing to put in the work. And for this knowledge, among all the other good things in my life, I am grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving.

A villanelle from Learning Curve. Illustration and poem copyright 2022 Michelle Garren-Flye.

What I’ve learned about life from Beat Saber

Be happy where you are. I’ve said it before. What I haven’t said is I learned at least a portion of what I now know about being happy in the moment from my VR headset.

Beat Saber. It’s a game where you have to slice up energy blocks that are flying toward you in time to music. If you’re like me, you feel like each energy block that gets past you is a potential threat to your family, your home, your entire way of life. So you have a tendency to panic.

Panicking doesn’t help. And if you dwell on the energy block that gets past you, you’ll mess up on the ones still coming at you. And if you try to anticipate the ones that you can’t see yet, you are likely to miss the ones you can see.

You get it? Live in the moment. One energy block at a time. One enemy or obstacle or opportunity at a time. Beat the hell out of those and then move on. And if one gets past you, let it go.

In other news, Far & wee is getting some attention with its first five-star review on Amazon!

5 stars! Sweet and beautiful

“Michelle Garren-Flye, novelist, childrens’ book author, and 2021 Heart of the Pamlico Poet Laureate, has put together an entire collection of Sonnets in Far & Wee, which, strung together, tell a story of one woman’s quest. Flye is searching, as we all are, for reasons that life’s roads twist the way they do, and it is during this search that we should look for inner peace. Like the old adage, ‘It’s not the destination but the journey,’ Far & Wee invites the reader into her heart and soul as the poet takes us on her personal journey. It is obvious that this stream-of-consciousness writing can be extremely effective, and, I would imagine, incredibly cathartic for the poet. I read the book in less than an hour, though I did go back and re-read bits and pieces, some out loud. To add to the power of this little book, please know that Flye wrote the book–AND created the illustrations–in 29 days. But even if it had taken her a year to put this together, I’d be impressed!”

I want. (TMI?)

I have a feeling this is gonna be one of those weird stream-of-consciousness posts that might actually be TMI but nobody’s probably gonna read all of it anyway, so what the hell? Caution to the wind, live in the moment, seize the day…

I’ve been thinking a lot about being happy where I am. It’s hard. I don’t want to be happy here because here is prosaic. I want poetry. I want flower paths and sea breezes and to dance among the stars.

I want. And I think it’s okay to want. I think it’s okay to work toward the things you want. But it’s also essential to appreciate the things in your life that are already good. They might be prosy instead of rosy, but they’re still cool.

That’s why I’m dancing more. Even if it’s in my bookstore and not in the night sky tripping through the stars. And when I walk my dog, I stop to take pictures of flowers along the way. They might not exactly line my path, my steps may not be softened by their petals, but they’re still beautiful. And when a breeze lifts my hair and cools my neck, I close my eyes and imagine I’m standing on the deck of a sailboat in the middle of the sea. Even if I’m mowing my lawn.

None of this means I don’t still want the things I want. I’m fifty-two years old and I haven’t yet achieved my dreams. Does that mean I won’t? Nope.

Maybe I’m just taking longer to get there so I can enjoy the journey.

A flower from my walk. Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye

Poem: Motherhood

This isn’t exactly a new poem. It was inspired by my oldest son but over the course of the past year I’ve seen more and more instances of strength in all three of my kids. They’ve been generous with that strength, too, loaning it to me when I needed it. Like a warm coat they take off their own shoulders to place over mine.

So thank you, kiddoes. Without you I wouldn’t be me.

Poem and illustration copyright 2022 Michelle Garren-Flye

Part two of my poetry reading series

Follow @michellegflye on Instagram for more.

Grateful

Last night I saw this rose blooming by my doorstep.

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

I had been feeling pretty bleak about the holiday. My life is not what it was a year ago. But when I saw that rose, I paused for a second. That rose must be pretty damn determined to bloom because it’s been downright cold the past couple of nights. It made me think about my attitude.

Yes, one part of my life sucks. But there are so many other aspects that really don’t. I have my kids and my store, my new home and my pets (especially Derby of the magical purr). I have my family and more friends than I really deserve. And I am grateful. For each and every one of these things, I am heartfelt, on my knees grateful.

Sometimes, when things are tough, we forget there are always things to be grateful for. And sometimes if you start counting the small things you have, you realize there are some pretty big things to be grateful for also. And if there aren’t at the moment, then concentrate on the beauty of those small things. Remember, rose bushes start out as tiny seeds.

Happy thanksgiving.

Poem: When We Return to Normal

As we return to normal, I’m seeing lots of signs of people forgetting. It’s human nature, of course, to want to forget pain and sorrow and fear. Part of our makeup as a species. But I had big hopes we could come through this more together than ever. That’s the poet in me, always wanting to be optimistic even when reality nips my heels like an annoying chihuahua.

Anyway, this poem has been on here before, but never like this. It’s in my book of illustrated poetry UnSong, also.

Poem and illustration by Michelle Garren Flye. Copyright 2021.