Happy National Poets’ Day!

I still remember the first day I actually identified as a poet. September 11, 2020. I had entered a local poetry contest and there was a reading. Still wearing a mask to keep the dreaded COVID-19 at bay, I attended with my then husband. The poem I read that night was prophetic, but the sticker the organization gave me to wear with my name badge was even more so.

It said, quite simply: “Poet”.

And when I put it on, I didn’t feel like an impostor.

I’ve read a lot of my poems in public since then. I’ve read other people’s poems in public, too. No matter what I do, I know I am a poet. Maybe we are all poets at heart, so maybe I’m not that special, but I have fully embraced being a poet.

Today is National Poets’ Day. It seems an appropriate day to share the news of my latest poetry book, Unwelcome Souvenirs. I’m very proud of this book. It has more than ninety poems in it, including many of the fortune cookie poems I wrote last April for National Poetry Month.

As a very important aside, my daughter also published her first poetry book this week. This was not planned. We finished them close to the same time, and when she told me hers was ready, I thought about how we used to get hiccups at the same time when she was a baby.

Just so you know I am not an impostor poet, I will share the last poem from the “Broken Things” portion of my book:

Just the Heart
By Michelle Garren-Flye

just the heart
that's all that's left
after all the acid rain
and all the cleansing pain
washed everything else away

just the heart left
on a simple pedestal
i let the rest of it go
(not without a fight though.)
I'll plant it now, see what grows.
Copies of my daughter’s book next to mine on the shelf at my store.
Photo and poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye

Poem: Call Me Destructor

So, yesterday, when I might or might not have preferred to be watching anime, I mowed the lawn. My lawn hadn’t been mowed in about two weeks, and it had, in the meantime, been watered well by the rains of a tropical storm. It was thick, lush, quite tall, and inhabited by many crickets, spiders, moths, mosquitoes, and some very pretty green bugs with lacy wings.

It was an entire habitat.

Needless to say, in my little urban neighborhood, said habitat had to go. Not to mention that it also probably housed roaches, mice, and other pests that I’d prefer not to encounter when I take my dog out at night.

To alleviate my guilt, I imagined myself as an anime villain, mowing down everything in my path, laughing evilly as the innocent bugs tried to escape. And that got me writing this poem in my head. I originally thought it was a villanelle. Not sure what it ended up as, but I do like the rhyme scheme, and the evil tone that grows more seductive through the poem is a little chilling, even to me.

Call Me Destructor
By Michelle Garren-Flye

Call me Destructor;
watch me lay waste.
I cannot hear your cry,
but you will not escape.

Luxuries can’t make me poor;
destruction is my only taste.
My use of power I justify;
just watch me lay waste.

I feel the rush in my core…
Victims stuck in my mindscape—
watch them flitter and fly!
I laugh as they try to escape.

Never enough, I always want more.
Your dreams I will reshape—
raze it all, the only way to satisfy
this desire I have to rape.

You want what you know is in store;
your desires were never chaste.
I know this you cannot deny.
Are you sure you desire escape?
Photo and poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye.

National Poetry Month: Fortune Cookie Poetry 30: “It’s not the end yet. Let’s stay with it.

hee hee ha ha…ya gotta be kidding me?

If ever I’ve wondered if God had a sense of humor, this was answered today. I honestly howled with laughter when I read today’s fortune. And I swear by all that is holy, that is today’s fortune. I’d just been thinking thank goodness this is the last one when I pulled that fortune out of the cookie. I wish there’d been a camera on me because I honestly felt like somebody was pranking me.

Maybe somebody is. Maybe it’s my balloon-man telling me there’s more to come out of fortune cookies than I know. Maybe even a book?

Whatever. This has been a wonderful month creatively. I’ve written some of my best poetry, and I don’t think I’ve written some of my worst this month, so there’s some creative growth that has occurred. So good. I wrote when I was sick, when I was traveling, when work was busy, when I was finishing up an editing project…I never missed a day during all that.

I do thank you for reading it all. I’ll keep you posted if the fortune cookies decide it’s a good idea to fill up a book. 🙂

Photo and poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye
It’s not the end yet. Let’s stay with it.

What a Month
By Michelle Garren-Flye

I’m tired and distracted and ready to go.
I’ve other things to do that take up my time!
Don’t overstay, you’re breaking the flow.

Life goes on may be a tale of woe,
and that’s easy to say when it’s not your dime.
I’m tired and distracted and ready to go

We’ve had a great run, but this I know:
drawing out a good thing would be a crime.
Don’t overstay, you’re breaking the flow.

If needs were less or the pace would slow,
if only I could be forever in my prime!
But I’m tired, distracted, and ready to go.

This month has left us much to show.
It hasn’t been easy, but we made the climb!
Don’t overstay now, you’ll break the flow.

I’m guessing you’d like a little quid pro quo,
and I thank you for reading all my rhythm and rhyme.
Now I’m tired and distracted and ready to go.
Don’t overstay. You’re breaking the flow.

National Poetry Month: Fortune Cookie Poetry 24, “Just wait for the right moment. Keep your eyes and ears peeled.”

Yesterday’s poem just sort of came to me. Today’s was more difficult. However, I had so much fun with the concrete poetry form, I decided to try it again. It’s sort of an Earth Day poem (two days late), and it started out a little more lighthearted than it ended up. I’m not super happy with it, but that’s kind of what this month is all about, right? Writing a poem from a fortune cookie prompt in a short amount of time. It may end up as a masterpiece…it may not.

So, take it as it is. I hope you enjoy it a little, anyway.

Photo and poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye

National Poetry Month: Fortune Cookie Poetry 13, “Nature, time and patience are the three great healers”

Ah, these fortune cookies.

My counselor once told me that grief isn’t linear…but it does happen. It may loop back on itself so that when you thought you’d entered the acceptance phase, you suddenly find yourself set back to the anger.

So, while I agree with my fortune cookie to an extent, I also know it’s not a super simple process.

To make the writing of this poem even tougher on myself, I decided to do it as an acrostic poem. I’ve never actually managed one of those successfully. Until now. I think it worked. I probably need to rewrite it some but it’s not bad, actually.

Hope you enjoy!

Photo and poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye
Nature, time and patience are the three great healers

Going On
By Michelle Garren-Flye

How long must this go on—
every moment evokes
agony of loss and heartbreak;
remind me again that
time is our greatest healer

and nature will help fade the
clarity that loses its draw when
harking back to previous
eras only brings pain.

Help will come, but be patient,
endure each day knowing
authentic healing happens with
living.
Seasons pass, life does go on.

National Poetry Month: Fortune Cookie Poetry 6, “Negotiations move along smoothly. The outcome is favorable!”

Another long one that threw me off. I’m actually not negotiating for anything in particular right now, so I started thinking about St. Peter and the Pearly Gates and how I could negotiate my way into heaven when that time comes. As I am very much a human with the usual foibles, I can see how it might be a difficult sell, but maybe this fortune is telling me it’ll come out okay.

Photo and poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye
Negotiations move along smoothly. The outcome is favorable!

A Conversation with St. Peter
By Michelle Garren-Flye

Yes, I killed spiders and the occasional mouse.
I couldn’t help it…they were in my house!
But think of the turtles I stopped to save
on the side of the road…the time I gave!

I guess you could say I drank too much wine
in my vain attempt to make myself feel fine.
The Sabbath was just a day to sleep late;
I didn’t really think I was making God wait.

I did give to charity—when I was asked.
Sometimes I volunteered without being tasked.
I’m not craven or evil or bad or corrupt,
so think about that as you measure me up.

Oh, another attempt at a ghazal on the anniversary of my Mother’s death

Today I’m remembering my mother. She died one year ago. Throughout this year, I have had moments when I wanted to talk to her more than anything else in the world. And knew I couldn’t.

Maybe that’s where this poem came from.

At any rate, I’m sure it’s not just me. (Although some of you may not write ghazals about it. Or attempt to. I’m still struggling with this form!)

Hug someone you love today.

Oh. 
By Michelle Garren-Flye

I wait for the rhyme to come but, oh, pain?
The rhythm runs through my thumbs, oh pain!

Sometimes it all feels right—no strain—
and others it’s nothing but, oh, pain.

Some might seek comfort in cocaine
but that will not shelter me from…oh. Pain.

Your beauty I have come to know, fain
would I reject its attraction, oh Pain.

My last refrain is your domain;
rest, you’ll fly in my love, oh pain.
Photo and text copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye

Happy Valentine’s Day

I’ve been told that the worst sin is to covet what you don’t have. It does seem that this is the way most humans spend their lives. I do not except myself from this, either. It’s always hard to wait for the universe to bring you what you need. Especially in today’s world of social media designed to display everything others have.

And today is the worst for those who covet love. Romantic love, family love, the love of friends or even pets. Our spirits yearn for all of it. Unless we feel we’ve been denied it for so long we shut ourselves off to it. Unless we decide we are one of those unfortunate individuals who was put here to never have what others have…no matter how much we covet it.

Perhaps there are such individuals. I don’t know if they were made that way by whatever heartless gods there are or if they became that way because they coveted so much they couldn’t see or feel love anymore.

I believe there is love out there for you if you truly open your heart to it. I cannot tell you what form it will come to you in. It may or may not be the true love you see in fairytales. It might be a stray cat or dog. It might be a flower blooming in an unexpected place or a kind word spoken by someone you thought was indifferent.

Look for it. You’ll find it if you’re persistent. And when you do, let it fill you up with love that you can share with someone else.

Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope this day finds you filled with love to give others.

Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye. Copyright 2024

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year! (Happy Winter Solstice)

People think I’m crazy when I say this is my favorite day of the year. But it is. It’s the day I feel the most hope for the future.

Today. The darkest day of the year.

Want to know why?

Because every day after this one gets brighter.

In honor of the darkest, most hopeful day, I’m doing a “live poetry writing”. If you haven’t joined me for one of those, it’s sometimes interesting since I’m working at my bookstore and am often interrupted.

(At 11:16 a.m. I’m already interrupted by customers. How dare they? Just kidding!)

Winter Solstice

By Michelle Garren-Flye

(11:20 a.m. debating about form versus free verse…really should’ve thought about this ahead of time!)

What makes the darkest day of the year so bright?

When the sun leaves early, why do I still hope?

I refuse the fear the end of day, the coming of night

With the long darkness, I know I can cope.

(11:23 a.m. I’m thinking sonnet, then. I do love sonnets.)

Daylight may not last as long while the night grows

and flowers cannot emerge in the absence of sun

but even now, I sense the spread of nighttime slows

and the approach of dawn will soon come.

(11:29 a.m. I know. Sun and come don’t really rhyme…)

In my bed, I wait to hear the first bird’s sweet whistle

(11:38 a.m. Sorry, I was off trying to find a book for someone. Back now.)

in the dark and the cold, with my head on my pillow.

and then it comes, like a message of dismissal

to the cold of yesterday, a welcome to tomorrow.

(11:45 a.m. I did stop in the middle of those last few lines to check out a customer. Not doing badly on time, considering…)

I jump from my bed, ready again for employ.

This day and the next I feel will bring joy.

(11:49 a.m. I wrote this couplet to end the sonnet thinking I wanted to write about joy, but as I wrote the last line, I thought maybe I should concentrate on faith instead. So, I’m working on an alternate.)

I jump from my bed, but wonder about my haste,

I pause to think but I know: it’s all about faith.

11:54 a.m. I’m done. This was fun and I will most likely polish this one up some. No idea what I might use it for, but it’ll go into a folder on my computer, anyway. Thanks for joining me! Enjoy the darkest day of the year, but don’t forget to have faith. Tomorrow will be brighter!

Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye. Copyright 2023

Silence (a poem)

Poetry continues to be my main objective in spite of a couple of ideas I’ve had about novels. If I hear about a new form of poetry, I have to try it out. And then I have to stretch it. Remember Stretch Armstrong? How you would stretch and stretch him to see how far you could stretch him and he’d still go back to his original form…until he didn’t.

I sort of feel like I did that with haibun. Haibun is the combination of a haiku and a prose poem. Matsuo Basho wrote them. I discovered them relatively recently and decided to give them a try. And stretched the form a bit. What do you think? Is it still a haibun at its heart?

Silence
By Michelle Garren-Flye

it’s awkward, silence,
because it wants treasuring
and I reject it

laying too heavy on my ears in the dark, begging to be broken, shattered against the brick wall, revealing the death of sound ringing in my ears, spilling out like the yolk of an egg until the utter madness is stunned by a brief click in the wall behind the thermostat as the furnace breathes life into our emptiness…

don’t rejoice too soon
complete silence verges on
total perfection

you will seek it again, want to crawl into it, feel it envelop you in velvety warmth as if it can never break because it always always bends and that’s why you can never make friends with silence, why you can’t love it even if you want it, you will always seek release from it, but…

the birds will ghost you
the wind and waves will give up
leaving you…awkward
November flower. Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye