Poem: The End of the Dream, or Burning Hell

Posted on September 11, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

If you’re one of those who thinks God will save us from any mess we get ourselves into, so we can do whatever the hell we want to do, I hope you’re right. Maybe that’s not enough, but I do hope you’re right. On the other hand, I can’t help but think, well, if I was God, I would’ve thrown up my hands and walked away from us idiots a long time ago. And where does that leave us now with our planet on fire, inadequate leadership, a virus killing thousands per day and no way out? I know where it leaves us. It leaves us at the end of all that has nurtured us for so long.

The End of the Dream, or Burning Hell

By Michelle Garren Flye

Here we stand at the end of the dream.

Where do we go now?

I see no shining trails leading us away

From the end of all we know.

From bloody skies and boiling streets,

There is no rescue to come.

This horror we’ve concocted here

Is what’s left of our home.

Yes, the dream is gone, and rage takes over;

I feel it under my skin.

It crawls in through my open mouth

And makes its home within.

Fire and famine, fear and sorrow,

Burning hell takes over.

The nightmare has only just begun—

No one’s coming to wake you.

Poem: No Protection

Posted on September 6, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

No Protection

By Michelle Garren Flye

You’re right, you know.

Masks won’t protect us.

Science can’t stop the blow

Nor quiet all the fuss.

You can’t hide from despair

And politics won’t save the lost.

Maybe just focus on repair

And not tallying up the cost?

What can help us heal from this?

The neighbor is “other” to the free,

And all that matters is our own bliss.

Is it really too much to hear their plea?

Reach out a hand, fight to converge—

Look behind the mask to the soul.

Only when we find that courage

Can we hope to be made whole.

Poem: Hellsong

Posted on September 4, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

Hellsong

By Michelle Garren Flye

Betrayal burns, feverish holes

Sprout and fill with flame,

Spilling ash out onto coals;

Leaping up, you’re unable to tame.

Will you watch it all burn?

Where will you go to escape?

No matter which way you turn

The consummation takes shape.

Don’t look for a way out—

Just give yourself to the fire.

The freedom you used to flout

Just a subject for the choir.

Your sins catch up to you here.

Your lies will haunt you again.

Remember them all, embrace fear—

Hell sings out in this last quatrain.

Poem: Fever Phoenix

Posted on August 24, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

My apologies for my continued fascination with fire right now…but maybe it’s just because, HEY! THE WORLD IS BURNING! WE MIGHT NEED TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT!

Fever Phoenix

By Michelle Garren Flye

Fever burns within,

But are you

Fire or fuel?

Make the call.

Will you destroy what you touch

Or feed the flames of others?

Spew your own sparks

Or rise from the ashes

Of all you caressed

Of all that you fed

And like a phoenix

With feathers ablaze

Spread your wings

And scorch all in your way

Until even the tiniest flicker

Of a candle is engulfed

In your laughing mouth

As you rise

Above those without escape

From the conflagration

At the end of the world.

Poem: Fire (Because the world is burning and nobody seems to care)

Posted on August 22, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

Fire

By Michelle Garren Flye

Burning from the inside out

Is better than exploding in public

Keep it inside, don’t be loud

No one cares what’s in your heart

So you can get away with that

Live a subtle life

Don’t speak what’s not asked.

Or…

Spit out the ash and fire and lava

That’s built up all your life

Because who cares?

Once it’s out it won’t matter

Anyway.

Lava leaves only ash in its wake

Ash chokes those who dare breathe it

And Fire destroys all in its path.

So burn anyway you want—

Kick it out to your neighbors (aha!)

With their green lawns peppered by red signs

Smash it into the bumpers branded enemy…

Or breathe it deliciously

Over those too slow to resist

Caress it onto those who forget to run

From Fire.

Poem: Missing Fire

Posted on August 21, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

I’ve been a little at loose ends here recently. I finished a project (well, sort of, it was my fanfiction), and I’m experiencing what a friend calls “post publication blues” (thanks for that, Tracie!). It’s a real thing, I think, when you are writing so hard on a project (I finished 58,000+ words in less than 30 days), and suddenly it’s done. And you want to go on to the next project but suddenly…your creative fire is burning low…

So I’ve turned to poetry until I can get myself geared up for one of my next projects (one of which was actually inspired by my fanfiction journey and is definitely quite different from anything I’ve ever attempted before).

Missing Fire

By Michelle Garren Flye

I miss the fire you woke in me—

The burning desire running through my veins.

Destructive, creative forces warring for victory.

I poured it all out onto the page

Red ink of blood spilled past the margins

Ran rampant over blue lines

Left scorch marks behind—

The ashy smell of lost passion

Haunts me even now.

How do you recover

When you burn from the inside out?

How do you rebuild

On unsteady, overheated foundations

Willed to stand only by yearning?

Maybe you cut your losses

And start over instead.

But do you find a good base or rebuild on ash?

Use brick and mortar or something incendiary?

Depends on your desire:

Gain solid footing? Or invite the flames?

Haiku study continues

Posted on August 18, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

Seriously. What does make a haiku good? I know it when I read it. I know it when I write it. I’m still trying to get to the point where I feel I can do it consistently, though. Here’s an idea:

#40 (eh)

Pretty pink roses

What secrets do you keep there

Beneath your petals?

#41 (not bad)

Dragonfly swoops low

Lands on water’s smooth surface

To meet Reflection

#42 (s’okay)

Lie here beside me

Look at the clouds and dream

What do you see there?

#43 (maybe?)

It rustles the brush

Stalking the moonlit midnight

Fearful manifest

#44 (not bad)

Hard to remember

Winter in mid summer heat

Ice when all is fire

#45 (love this one, but I made it a full poem)

why would you think all

the fire in the world is yours

you are left with ash

#46 (eh)

Light shines in the rain

Love awaits us in those walls

Home sweet home again

#47 (not bad)

Smell of fresh death floats

On hot wind with crackly leaves

Fallen trees are mourned

Poem: Ash

Posted on July 28, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

Ash

By Michelle Garren Flye

why would you think all

the fire in the world is yours

you are left with ash

tiny candle flames

will not light your way to bed

the wick is all gone

firelight burned long ago

leaves only the stench of days

already gone by

and i claim the sun

as my own personal lamp

i’ll leave none for you

look in the ashtrays

search the burned out homes you left

as a memory

dig your way into dust

and cinders, the residue

of the lives ruined

when you claimed the light

and the fire and the passion

was yours for taking

Poem: No Edges

Posted on July 11, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

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.

Thirteen Haiku

Posted on July 8, 2020 by Michelle Garren-Flye

I’ve been studying haiku and how to write it, what it’s supposed to mean. It’s interesting. Haiku used to seem like an incredibly easy format to me. It doesn’t have to rhyme. It’s just a certain number of syllables and lines. Turns out that’s not really all haiku is.

By reading some original Japanese haiku from Matsuo Basho, I’ve learned that there’s more to haiku than just counting syllables and lines. It’s more about the feeling you are left with at the end of the poem. So haiku isn’t so much about what’s there as what’s left. If that makes any sense.

Anyway, here are thirteen haiku I’ve written over the course of the last few days. I’d love to know if you have a favorite. Do any of them leave you with anything?

The gardener prunes

But new growth won’t be restrained

Bright green emerges

Fireworks entertain

But divisive words excite

Rebellion looms near

Stained glass wings hover

Glory in the hot summer

Swoop fast, stop away

2020 sucks

plague, famine, deluge and war

make a new start now