National Poetry Month: Poem 3

Poem 3:

17

By Michelle Garren Flye

 

Today’s the day.

Seventeen.

Amazing how the years

Aren’t long enough.

Filled with Moments.

Moments to live over and over again

And Moments to wish you had back.

 

Nobody said it’d be easy.

Did they?

Nobody said there’d be no regrets

Or that everything would be perfect.

They said

You’ll be a family.

We are.

We have been

From that first Moment

Of love.

National Poetry Month: Poem 2

Poem 2:

The Unknown

By Michelle Garren Flye

Golden leaf volumes

On dusty library shelves

Knowledge unembraced.

 

And from my youngest:

The Early Bloomer

By Jessica

Snowfall ends. 

But the trees still don’t have leaves.

No flowers yet bloomed.

Until one tulip pops up.

Tulips aren’t supposed to be up yet.

Oh well it is very beautiful.

The next day, it’s not there.

Oh no.

It was gone.

Forever and ever.

It inspired other tulips to grow, though.

Now there were millions.

Everyone loved that early flower.

Everyone loved that early bloomer.

(Inspired by tulip season)

Happy National Poetry Month!

It’s my favorite month. National Poetry Month. I try to read a poem or two a day during National Poetry Month. It’s not very hard, so this year, I’m challenging myself to something a little tougher.

Write a poem a day.

Post it here.

Yeah, I know, not smart to post raw stuff, but I’m determined and not many people read this anyway. So today I dug deep, and here you go:

 

End of Daffodil Season

By Michelle Garren Flye

 

Thick, yellow air.

Breathless.

 

Sun warming,

Breeze chills.

 

Tall stems sway

Shrivel.

 

Die.

 

No more buds

To love.

 

Yellow blossoms

Are gone.

 

Winds promise

More fun.

 

Soon.

 

Just Spring is over… Share your favorite poem with me!

For those who don’t know, April is National Poetry Month. This year I’ve celebrated by teaching some amazing kids about poetry. It’s been fun, rewarding and, at times, truly amazing.

But I digress. Last week we wound up our study with a look at concrete poetry, which gave me the opportunity to share e.e. cummings’s haunting “[In Just-]“. I’ve always loved this poem and read it regularly to see what else I can discover about it. I remember the first time a teacher displayed this poem on the overhead projector and I was so puzzled by it. I was just getting used to poetry that looked like poetry and here was this crazy mishmash of unrhymed, strangely patterned words.

And yet, it’s the poem I come back to most often when I think about poetry. And it’s the poem I think of when the world is mud-luscious and starting to warm up and the flowers aren’t blooming yet but you know they will… Just spring.

Perhaps the world does us an injustice by making just spring so short a time. It’s over here now, ending with the brief month of April. The first flowers are past their bloom, the mosquitoes are beginning to bite. Summer and pool time and the beach and lazy days are coming. We’re all looking forward to it, but we’ll miss those first days of spring.

Next year when March and April come around, though, I look forward to again listening for the far and wee whistle of the little lame balloon man. And in the meantime, I’ll watch for the seeds I planted this April to sprout and grow.Image What’s your favorite poem? Share it with me in the comments!