Tag Archives: life

The Next Chapter: Moving a Friend Away

white car traveling near trees during daytime

Photo by Tim Gouw on Pexels.com

This weekend, I helped a friend move five hours away. It was tough. Setting him up in his new place and knowing I could no longer see him every single day. Of course, the move is a good one for him. More opportunity for growth and friendships and education.

Yes, I joined the ranks of parents leaving their first-born at college. I know it’s a good thing, but I couldn’t help but think that I would miss him fiercely, this baby-turned-man in a blink of an eye. He’s always been a part of me and always will be, though, so I square my shoulders and march on.

After all, I’m not losing a son or a friend. I’m helping him be a better man and friend to others.

Turning to other things, I have a GoodReads giveaway going on now! Enter to win one of fifty copies of Becoming Magic here: Becoming Magic GoodReads Giveaway. Also, I’ll be at Lisa Haselton’s Reviews and Interviews on Monday morning promoting Becoming Magic, so be sure to join me there. Plus, there’s a giveaway!

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Filed under Thoughts, Writing

Poem: Standard Haiku

I never really claim to be a poet, but I like writing poetry. I love haiku. Its beauty is in its simplicity. A rigid format that nonetheless lets you play within the boundaries.

 

Standard Haiku

By Michelle Garren Flye

 

We once held the Truth,

It squirmed away, leaving just

A bloody remnant.

 

Better than Justice,

Who left us what we didn’t

Use—her blinded eyes.

 

Oh, Morality!

What have you become? Twisted

Past recognition.

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not my child, a poem for yesterday’s lost

IMG_1763not my child
by michelle garren flye
not my child
screaming
crying
pleading
helpless
not my child
hiding
praying
cursing
alone
not my child
listening
waiting
hurting
lost
not my child
this time

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Filed under poetry, Writing

Poem: The Gift

For absent friends and family.

The Gift

By Michelle Garren Flye

 

it’s a Gift, she said, holding it tight.

why don’t you open it? i replied.

oh no, she laughed, you don’t open it.

 

i studied the golden wrappings,

the shiny, shimmering bow.

what do you do with it then? i said.

 

for answer, she breathed and laughed and cried—

she played and lived as the Gift slowly faded.

but she held it like a treasure the whole time.

 

only then did i see my own Gift bound in gold.

i wondered how i hadn’t noticed it before—

though i’d held it until its light had gone.

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Filed under poetry, Writing