On Receiving a Tarot Warning of You By Michelle Garren-Flye
Which numbers more, the chirp of crickets or the sparkle of the stars?
Today you promise me the world but it’s a pack of cards. Dance! Let your wings unfurl before we all fall down.
Oh, will the judgment be enough or leave us standing naked and cold in our own graves surrounded by the flood? Rejoice in new beginnings and your past will reward you.
I fear the dark, glowering man on the throne, his staff held casually, bruisingly on a booted leg. When will he leave me, let me be alone? Can I knock the crown from his head?
I search for the promised love, bare my soul and body before Cupid’s embrace, but romance still seems far away and likely to avoid me—or lay me low.
Death’s scythe continues its sweep, cutting back excessive joy of life, Distant sunset blood does creep and brings along fear of living only in strife.
Only promise me the song of the stars, and pour out your life to the babbling river.
Photo and Poem Copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye
Today I did something kind of fun. I have a book of Matsuo Basho’s haiku on my desk that I often read when I’m experiencing writer’s block. It’s a beautiful book even though now it’s a bit beat up and coffee-stained. But the pages are full of haiku by the master of haiku. Sometimes when I read them, I feel like I can picture him on his travels, taking inspiration from the simplest of things, writing his verses even in discomfort, possibly hungry, cold, stuck in bad weather, probably tired.
And then I wonder how on earth I can claim any adversity at all.
At any rate, today I was reading some Matsuo Basho and I found this one:
snow on snow
this night in December
a full moon
—Matsuo Basho
I’m currently editing my book Winter Solstice for republishing so this little haiku caught my attention, especially when I read the backstory of it. Basho wrote it for two fellow poets who were arguing, hoping by pointing out the beauty of the moon’s glow on the snow, he could defuse the fight.
I don’t know if it worked for them, but it gave me something to think about. I wondered what it would be like to write a sonnet with the same idea. So I did.
For Basho By Michelle Garren-Flye
Why persist in impatience and strife? When yonder field full of starflowers reflects the moon’s light into our life, how can this world of war be ours?
Sit here beside me, give me your cares. Worries, bad habits, and visions begone! Along with all the stuff of your nightmares— the ones that sometimes linger on.
This world is full of beauty, you know: meadows turned into a galaxy of stars by nothing more than the moon’s glow concealing all of our cuts and scars
Take heart! Come with me and dance in soft grass among stars and planets.
It’s hard to remember sometimes that our world has been through a lot and survived. Sometimes the news makes it seem we are on the brink of all the disasters. Politicians make money off our fears, the media churns out new ones every day. But today I saw a Monarch on a bunch of pink lemonade lantana, and it made me happy.
Photo and poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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.
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 