Poem 28 (National Poetry Month): Gravity’s Effect on Dance

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.

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 26 (National Poetry Month): Ditch Flower

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.

Here today, gone tomorrow. Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 24 (National Poetry Month): When We Return to “Normal”

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.

Like a flower conquering concrete, we will survive. It’s where we go from there that matters. Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 23 (National Poetry Month): Stay

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.

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 20 (National Poetry Month): Soul Snakes

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.

Not a poisonous soul snake. Just a pretty little racer I saw this morning. Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 19 (National Poetry Month): Haiku Poem

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

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 18 (National Poetry Month): Walking Outside on a Windy Day

Walking Outside on a Windy Day

By Michelle Garren Flye

I walk outside to the wind waiting for rain

a fluttering clash quickly dissipates

so when I turn my head

I see only a single feather

twirling down

the only evidence that remains

of the maelstrom

before the storm came.

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 13 (National Poetry Month): In the Middle of the Storm

In the Middle of the Storm

By Michelle Garren Flye

In the middle of the storm

There’s no time for wondering

If what we are doing is right

(That’s what preparation is for)

The noise and distraction

Leave no room for discussion

About what we’re supposed to do

(So we just do and hope)

It’s only after that we find out

It’s only when we stand on the edge

And survey what’s left that we know

(If we’re lucky enough anyway)

History watches every decision

Written by victors (or victorias)

A reflection of what we did

In the middle of the storm

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 11 (National Poetry Month): Leakage

Another attempt at rhyming poetry. Some are better than others

Leakage

By Michelle Garren Flye

The pool in the forest looks endless and deep.

But I know a secret that I will always keep.

The stream that away from the pool leads

Now has all the water a little stream needs.

But look closer, look harder, and you will find

That time to the stream will not be kind.

Upstream a dam has been built to cut off

The flow to the pool and the stream’s runoff.

Does the pool know it is leaking away?

Will it attempt to make the water stay?

Or just like us, it may avoid the strife

And allow the leakage to continue for life.

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 10 (National Poetry Month): World of Fire

World of Fire

By Michelle Garren Flye

It’s hard to inspire

In a world of fire.

It’s best to prevent

Such a common event.

If day to day life

Is uncommon strife

The world fails

To hear your wails.

In a world of fire,

Down to the wire,

Very little impresses.

Even your caresses.

Every day a travail

No way to set sail

No way to escape—

This is your fate.

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye