Wheee!
By Michelle Garren Flye
You test the top of the slide
And yell, “It’s slippery, Mommy!”
At first I think you’re scared to try,
But next thing I hear is “Wheee!”
I know how right you are.
Time is slippery, too, I think.
Each second echoes in my heart
But they pass within a wink.
My child, you’re growing too fast—
I know soon you’ll need to be free.
I feel I’m watching you slip past
And all I hear is “Wheee!”
Wisdom of the Baby Bird
By Michelle Garren Flye
Like an eagle or hawk soaring
We want to leap into the sky!
We don’t know what waits;
We just know we want to fly.
Hawks dive onto their prey,
Seagulls wheel above the sea,
Eagles may drift along drafts
Our senses cannot perceive.
Maybe turn our eyes instead
To the baby bird in the nest.
Standing precariously on the edge—
He’s waiting, not taking a rest.
Take a leap of faith—oh yes, let’s do!
But only when the time is right.
Stretch the wings out first—
Take a short practice flight.
Only then will we grow stronger,
Only then will we avoid a plunge
Headfirst into a maelstrom
Of dangers we cannot dodge.
No poem today.
But do not fret and worry.
Poetry returns.
🙂
Seriously, I’m kind of happy to be done with the poem-a-day challenge. Writing poetry—everyday, anyway—gives you a new respect for Emily Dickinson. Not appreciation. Respect. There is a difference! I’ve always appreciated Dickinson, but the volume of poetry she wrote is something I now respect. It’s hard to write a poem every day.
But on to other things. It’s May Day! Let’s celebrate spring in spite of quarantine. What better way than by anticipating my upcoming new book? This is my new romance novel that takes place, of all places, on a cruise ship. Lol, right? If you can stop laughing long enough, though, take into account that I began writing this novel three years ago after I went on a cruise to Alaska. It was an amazing, truly magical experience, and to me, there is nothing so romantic as the sea. So, if you can clear the tears of laughter from your eyes, here’s the cover and a brief excerpt.
“Do you want me to leave?” He turned his hand over in hers so he could curl his fingers around hers.
“I think it would be best. Yes.”
“I will then.” He dropped his hand from hers, but then he leaned forward and kissed her, very quickly and softly, on the lips. “I’ve got plenty to do and you don’t need me here. I won’t see you again before your show tonight, though, so I want you to think about one thing for me.”
She wasn’t sure she could think about anything else but how his lips felt on hers and how much she wanted to repeat that experience. “What?”
“Have you ever once worried about what would happen if this thing doesn’t work out? Or have you just wondered what will happen if it does?”
His words gave her a jolt as she recognized the truth in them. She hadn’t thought about what it would be like to be stuck working on a ship with a man she’d attempted to date, perhaps to see him start another relationship with someone else. Not even once had that occurred to her. Why wasn’t she worried about that?
Because it won’t happen. I feel it. If we let this thing get started between us, it’s not going to stop. And maybe that’s what I’m scared of.
He stepped away from her, his eyes still locked on hers. He nodded. “Neither have I.”
From Magic at Sea by Michelle Garren Flye
So go celebrate May Day with cake, dancing (even if it’s solitary, dance anyway) and singing. If you have a May Pole, decorate it. Smell some flowers. Enjoy life a little. We all deserve it.
The Storm
By Michelle Garren Flye
Remember the year it rained so much
Water stood in every crevice and cranny.
The sky was never blue, just gray.
Like concrete, like it stopped us there.
Then we saw the rainbow and blue sky
And we thought the storm was over.
But it was just a little bit of calm.
And then the real storm started.
First the concrete sky came back
And then it began to move and boil
And rain and wind lashed us until
We cowered inside and watched.
The puddles grew bigger and fatter,
Eating everything they touched
Like some sort of dime movie monster
Until everything was drowned in them.
And then the rain stopped finally,
And we waited to discover
If anything had survived the storm.
I’ve become more and more experimental as the month wears on, it seems. This morning I decided I wanted to write haiku because I didn’t have as much time. But haiku won’t always hold everything you want to say. In a way, haiku became gravity on my dance. So I tried a different way. I’m including both. I actually plan to revisit the second of these later on.
#1
Gravity’s Effect on Dance
By Michelle Garren Flye
Walking by a field—
Three birds startle and take flight.
I laugh in delight.
The sky holds their dance
Steps made up of soars and wheels—
Wish to join the feels!
Stuck instead on earth…
Feet firmly rooted to ground…
My leap only a bound.
#2
Gravity’s Effect on Dance
By Michelle Garren Flye
Walking by a field today,
I watched three birds startle into flight
Seeing their dance, I laughed in delight.
The sky held their dance,
The steps made up of soars and wheels!
Oh how I wished to join their feels.
Stuck instead to the earth,
My dance can never leave ground—
My leaps to gravity are bound.
Ditch Flower
By Michelle Garren Flye
I’ll take your picture now
For tomorrow is uncertain;
We cannot tell when or how
The future pulls the curtain.
It’s pretty sure you’ll go
Sooner than later, my flower,
For the farmer is going to mow
Ere the clouds turn to shower.
Let me capture your grace
Behind my lens to store—
A ditch is not a safe place;
Soon you’ll be here no more.
Everything feels wrong now, and it seems that everyone is trying to quantify it and box it up and make it what they’ve always known. “Don’t judge people if you see them not wearing a mask or taking their kids out or trying to go back to work—you don’t know what they’re going through,” say some. This is true. But it does not escape my sense of fairness that some of these people are the same ones who are quick to judge those who take their families and flee from death and poverty in other countries. Don’t judge them, either. You don’t know what they’ve gone through.
We all want to go back to “normal”, but I don’t think we’re ever going to get back there from here. We’ll go back to some semblance of day-to-day life, but I believe what scifi writers have been warning us about—that some event would come along eventually that would change us forever—has finally happened. Where we go from here is really up to us. We can remain politically divided with half of us in denial about our doom and the other half constantly lecturing about it—or we can unite and fight for survival. I pray we opt to find the best in all of us when we declare victory over this virus…and return to “normal”.
When We Return to “Normal:
By Michelle Garren Flye
“I like that lady’s mask, Mommy.”
The little boy doesn’t wear a mask.
His face bare, he points at me.
Why is he here, I’d love to ask?
But life now is far from easy;
You can’t judge or take to task
Those whose differences you see.
Maybe we will remember this lesson
When we can declare our battle won.
When the world returns to “normal”
And we look each other in the face again
We may remember we are all mortal
And not judge each other by colors of skin.
Maybe we will recall we’re all one world
And where we come from is not our sin.
Maybe this can be done because it’s natural
When we survive a crisis with our fellow man.
Yes, let’s look at each other and see only “us”
When we stand on the battlefield victorious.
Inspired by the juvenile owl I saw perched next to his nest in my backyard while his parents chased away the hawks that saw him as prey. As well as my own experiences letting go
Stay
By Michelle Garren Flye
I know the wild world calls—
You want to spread your wings;
But, stay, a little longer, dear.
Put off your springtime flings.
Trust me when I say to you
I remember feeling that way—
Like I’d burst if I didn’t leave
To dance on the wind and play.
But stay, a little longer, dear;
There’s no need for you to rush.
There are dangers you don’t know
That all your dreams may crush.
Soul Snakes
By Michelle Garren Flye
There’s a barrel of snakes in the corner.
I’ve given each one a different name.
Take a look but do not get much warmer!
They are poison, this is not a game.
This one for instance, he is black and white.
I call him Prejudice for he can’t believe
Anything a bit different or unlike
Could be okay—he just can’t conceive.
His best bud is Racism, you can guess why.
Look there at the green ones, that’s Envy and Greed.
Wrath is a slippery one, he’s really too sly!
Indifference is this one, he ignores when you plead.
They’re all mixed up in my big melting pot,
Writhing and twisting, living in your heart.
(They usually find they can pick their spot.)
Decaying the human soul is their only art.
But look I have an experiment to show!
If I add this big one to the pot here
The others will ever more poison grow—
And that’s what you can expect from Fear.
Haiku Poem
By Michelle Garren Flye
Wildflowers grow fast
Where the lawnmower neglects
To stop their progress
Pink, white, violet
Mix it up on the roadside
Bumblebees’ delight
Forget a bit more
Let nature’s course continue
Color eases thoughts
