Tag Archives: photography

Day 14: Happy National Poetry Month!

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Good morning! Today I’m presenting a fresh poem, but it’s actually one I wrote yesterday. I revised a bit this morning. And it’s all about this:

The world is a Monet painting. Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye

That’s what my yard looked like day before yesterday. Gorgeous, right? Absolutely. I love flowers. I especially love wildflowers. But spots of it were well over ankle-deep. I do not like snakes (I mean, I’m okay with them in theory, but since one killed my dog, I haven’t been super fond of having them near my loved ones). I also don’t like rats and mice in the house and keeping your yard cut back is essential to discouraging pest infestations.

And so I cut my yard. As much as it pained me to cut all those beautiful flowers, I did it. Because I’m a grownup, damn it. Sometimes that sucks.

Massacre

By Michelle Garren-Flye

I mowed my lawn yesterday,

painful as it was to cut down buttercups

and crowpoison and violets.

I picked a few to make a bouquet,

but the rest I had to let go,

sacrificed to the mower’s blade.

Tell me please, what else could I do?

Rats love weeds and grass

and don’t care if flowers contribute

to the refuge they require.

In shadows, snakes slither through,

so the overgrowth must go!

And still I knew I would miss

the cheerful heads I decapitated

so I stole a moment to admire

Nature’s beauty I must erase.

A masterpiece of color and scent

nevertheless met its fate.

The bouquet I picked from my backyard.
Photos and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye.

Day 13: Happy National Poetry Month

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I’ve never been reliant on poetry prompts before, but this month they’re really helping me out. I’m not doing the live writing today because I’ve already had a thousand interruptions, but I will tell you this is a fresh poem I wrote from a prompt I got here. It’s number 22, and, just as I’ve never liked relying on poetry prompts, I especially (usually) despise prompts like this one that give you specific words to use.

And yet, that’s the one that caught my eye. As a nod to the fact that I am definitely not always right, I used the prompt words for the title. I hope you enjoy this one. It’ll probably be in my book of love poetry. Possibly with a different title.

new rain card chance

by michelle garren-flye

i’m putting pieces of me together everyday

finding them in unexpected places

maybe i lost a small one down a drain

that i’ll find again in the rain

my mother sent one to me in a birthday card

i neglected to open until now

this search takes a toll it’s really hard

but with every moment i learn more about

how to check the hard-to-reach spaces

behind shelves and above cupboards

there’s no telling how far the bits of me strew

when my heart broke into a thousand pieces

i doubt i’ll find them all before i die—

I can replace what’s lost with something new.

I mowed my lawn yesterday, painful as it was to mow buttercups.
Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 12: Happy National Poetry Month

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Good morning! It’s 10:15 a.m. and I’ve just gotten settled at my desk with a cup of coffee and no idea what kind of poem to present you with. So I’ve decided to try the live poetry writing again. I kind of enjoyed that. Much more than I enjoy my live poetry readings, lol.

So I’m off to find another poetry prompt.

10:23. I found one. It’s not going to be an easy one to write. You can find it here. The prompt is: Write about neglect.

10:30. Sorry. Got distracted by my cat. I’m back.

Neglect (working title)

By Michelle Garren-Flye

How long since I looked at you?

You’re withered, turned brown,

no more blooms of blue,

lonely face droops down.

Mama shifts in her chair,

I know she’s in constant pain—

but the nurses did her hair.

(10:44. I have customers so going to have to take a break.)

(10:51. Where was I? Oh yeah.)

Mama shifts in her chair,

I know she’s in constant pain—

but the nurses did her hair.

And I’ve been away too long.

Walk away for a while,

forget to answer the phone

or water the plant

or leave someone alone.

(10:55. More customers. Might be interrupted again…)

Mama clings to my ginger hug,

her body so delicate, my own

health felt like a rude insult.

This old hospital is killing me.

(11:20. I was right. I was interrupted. Multiple times.)

When the mourning’s over, though,

drop the dead into the trash bin

even as tears track down, slow

when you remember the body so thin.

(11:32. First draft finished. Going to see if I can do a rewrite now.

(11:56. I finished it. And ouch. Read if you want.)

Neglect

By Michelle Garren-Flye

How long since I looked at you?

You’re withered, turned brown,

no more blooms of blue,

lonely face drops down.

Mama shifts in her chair,

I know she’s in constant pain—

but the nurse did her hair…

and I’ve been away too long.

Walk away, pretend it’s only a while,

forget to answer the phone

or water the plant

and leave someone alone too long.

Mama clings to my ginger hug,

her body so delicate, my own

health feels like a snub.

“This old hospital is killing me.”

When the mourning is over, though,

drop the dead into the trash bin,

even as tears track down slow

when you remember the body so thin.

Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 10: Happy National Poetry Month!

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And this is what I love about poetry. Mostly it grows naturally.

And this is what frustrates me about poetry. Natural growth can take a while.

By “naturally”, I mean that poetry is mostly organic. A seed is planted in your brain and then, bam, it’s a poem. Last night for instance, I was staying at an Airbnb with my daughter. I saw this set of instructions for guests.

I laughed and asked my daughter, “Well, that’s fine for summer and winter. But what about weather like this, like in weird spring?” (There was a frost warning last night, to give you an idea.) And then I said, “Weird Spring would be a great name for a band.”

She agreed and we moved on, but those two words stuck in my brain. And it turns out, they make a pretty decent poem, too.

Weird Spring

By Michelle Garren-Flye

That moment when the air stops

and a stillness falls

like just before a storm

but then the music crashes in

and it’s weird spring

and you’re on the road again

with violets blooming

on the brick walls

and words dripping from arbors

like sweet-smelling jasmine

or wistful wisteria

and everything is purple all day long

and gold at night

when you hold my hand in the moonlight

because it’s weird spring

and anything is possible.

Weird Spring flowers. 😉 Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye.

Day 8: Happy National Poetry Month!

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Translation is an art in itself; it is the re-creative process of transforming the magic of one language into the magic of another.

—Kahlil Gibran

Recently I have jumped on the train of people watching Korean dramas. I never thought I could be so addicted to watching television with subtitles! It’s not that I’m a language snob, it’s just that I’m lazy.

And yet, here I am, watching one Korean drama on Netflix after another. There seems to be a never-ending supply of them. And they all tell compelling stories with humor and intelligence and empathy I can’t seem to find in most of the stuff coming out of Hollywood these days.

Recently I’ve been watching to the end so I can catch the translators’ names. I always say a quick thank you to these gods of language because without them I would never understand these beautiful stories I’ve fallen in love with.

I ran across the quote at the top of this post the other day and it got me started thinking about the art of translation. I wrote this (very) rough draft while thinking about translation. I will admit the image I used in the poem was more Japanese than Korean because I think it is beautiful the way Japanese writing falls from the top of the page instead of our bland left to right thing.

Don’t be surprised if you see this poem in my book of love poetry. Love comes in many forms and I definitely love that someone takes the time to translate beautiful things. A note, though, that it will probably take some editing for this one. I just wrote it and I’m not sure about the format, the rhyme or even some of the wording. And that last line seems sort of…bland.

Translation

By Michelle Garren-Flye

Words drip into my ear,

hang from an imagined sky,

but I am helpless to hear…

They are a mystery in my eye,

and I despair until you appear.

(I’m glad you didn’t miss my cry!)

Oh, draw your finger down the vine

of cryptic crosswords I cannot crack—

the codes of other worlds I want to find,

the loves of other dreams I cannot track.

Your key to this language is sublime—

my translator is the gift for which I thank.

Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 7: Happy National Poetry Month!

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It’s 11:15 a.m. I have not written a poem to share. Nope. So I’m going to write one right now. Live…ish.

Excuse me a moment while I go find a prompt I like.

Oooh. Found one. On this website. Number 10. “Create a gallery of your heart. Take readers on a guided tour of what they might see there.” That immediately sparked my imagination. So here goes.

Heart Gallery

By Michelle Garren Flye

Watch your step, it’s showing its age

this old heart gallery of mine.

But really the cracks set the stage

and let the artwork shine!

Over here, memories of days gone—

you’ll see Mama’s picture set up high—

and the nest from which I’ve long since flown,

those who watched as I took to the sky.

Baby pictures, treasures—it may seem inane—

letters of old love, scraps of life on display…

Most of it appears designed to cause me pain—

the open book of my past I failed to file away.

I will not banish any of it from my trove,

because, above all, I feel only love.

It’s 11:45 a.m. I just finished the edits. It’s not bad. A sort of sonnet. What do you think?

Maybe I should’ve used the moon for a prompt? I’ve done it before, though.
Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 6: Happy National Poetry Month!

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Sorry to be a bit late with this one, but I wrote it literally an hour ago. Had to let it sit for a bit to make sure it’s not too bad to share. I don’t think it is. What do you think?

Wanna?

By Michelle Garren-Flye

Warm sun burning skin,

wind’s touch cools, swirls sandy beach—

but I am not there.

Wanna come with me?

We’ll watch the waves crash ashore,

feel peace for a while.

Wait, though, I’m not sure…

Waves, wind, and sand are precious.

Do I wanna share?

More Beach Evening Primrose. Aren’t they just so pretty? Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye.

Day 5: Happy National Poetry Month!

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Good morning! I’m feeling kinda good this morning because I did something last night that I haven’t in a while. Instead of firing up Netflix after my shower, I pulled out my computer…and wrote a poem.

It turned out pretty well, too.

I’m not going to share it here, though. Sorry. I’m not being coy, but I do want to save something for my book of love poetry, and this one fits.

However, I am going to share a poem. I write a haiku to post on the message board at my store (I own a bookstore). I write a haiku every month for that message board. Of course, they’re promoting reading/books, but it’s fun and keeps me in the 5-7-5 practice.

Anyway, I finished my April one a bit late this morning, and thought I’d share it here for my daily poetry post. It’s something a little different to keep things spicy! 🙂

Photo and Haiku copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 4: Happy National Poetry Month!

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So I may have missed my mark by a few hundred years. I believe I belonged in the time of romantic poets. Shelley, Byron. Keats, Dickinson… Today’s successful poets write about social issues in a way I wish I could write. I’ve tried. It mostly (a few exceptions) ends up sounding trite.

But writing love poetry, romance, looking at the moon—that’s my jam, man. lol. (what decade am I actually living in?)

I wrote this little poem yesterday. It was much less good until I wrote it today. Now it’s much gooder. To give you an idea, this is the original ending:

I seek you when I fall asleep at night

but this poem will need a good rewrite.

I was definitely right about that. So here’s another one for my collection of love poetry that is yet to come:

Missing You

By Michelle Garren-Flye

I miss you when I look at the moon

and know you won’t be back soon.

I’ve made loneliness into an art

to which I have devoted my heart.

On the radio, I may hear a tune—

against your charm, I am not immune.

Oh, can’t you rescue me from this plight,

steal me away from all anger and fright?

This love is most inopportune,

painfully made and roughly hewn.

It pokes holes in my soul, leaves me

with a wish I wish most wantonly.

Yesterday’s primrose. Photo and poem copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 3: Happy National Poetry Month!

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Today, we have a new poem.

But before we get to that, I saw a few of you joined my live yesterday. It was on my Instagram. It was sideways. Lol. My daughter reassured me that people could turn their phones if they wanted to watch it, so I did save it to my Instagram, so you can go check it out if you want. I was nervous. It was honest-to-god my first-ever live. I’ve posted videos before, but I can stop and redo those if I mess up or whatever. This one’s got me fumbling for words and misreading and everything. All in five minutes! What entertainment.

Anyway, I haven’t gotten any actual questions about poetry to answer yet, so I probably won’t do another live until next Sunday unless something comes up before that I think would make more sense to answer live than here on my blog.

And now, a poem! I actually wrote a poem I kind of like! This morning!

(I’m a bit excited.)

It’s about a primrose.

No, really. A primrose. I took a picture of a Beach Evening Primrose this morning and it turned out super good. Plus, a friend sent me a poetry prompt last night from another poet/writing coach who suggested that we find something in nature that inspires us and write a poem about it. I intend to post this picture with the poem on Instagram and tag her to see what she thinks, hopefully. Her name is Ann Kroeker. She wrote a really nice poem about a pinecone. You should look her up.

Poem and photo copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye