Fortune Cookie Poetry

Almost every night I have a fortune cookie with a cup of tea. It’s become my ritual. They are sometimes funny, sometimes uplifting, sometimes philosophical, sometimes almost a little spooky in the way they apply to my life.

I’ve been doing this for a couple of years now. I try never to throw them away. It seems sacrilegious. I do lose them sometimes, but I try to take a picture if it’s something I want to remember.

Here are a few I memorialized:

This one came along when I was floundering, trying to convince myself I could still write:

And then there was the time my fortune seemed to be hitting on me:

And finally, there was this one. It struck enough of a chord to inspire a poem. I thought it was a riddle, but when I did some research, I found it’s more of a philosophical conundrum. Fun stuff.

I have no idea what wisdom you can actually find in fortune cookies. Though Chinese restaurants adopted the cookie to appease Americans who wanted something sweet to finish off their meal with, no one actually believes they’re Chinese. In fact, though I did find some evidence in a quick Google search that fortune cookies originated in Japan, I’m pretty sure my fortune cookies are very American. And yet, I’ve found that the Universe can speak in many different languages, and English is definitely one of them.

WHAT HIDES IN AN EMPTY BOX?

We puzzled over the fortune cookie
long after dinner was done 
and the dishes taken away;
the check was paid 
and you and I were on the way home.
Darkness, you said, that’s what hides there
and I figured you were right
because if you open the box
and let the light in,
the darkness can’t be seen.
But later still, lying awake
with darkness pressing on my face
smothering me
like your apologies
I wondered if we had been wrong.
Maybe the darkness didn’t hide
when you opened the empty box.
Maybe when the light chased it out
it roared and screamed
and lashed about.
Maybe what hid there in its place
was my heart.

It is done.

Yep. I had my live this morning at 11 a.m. I had a couple of people on it. I read a few poems. I mostly embarrassed myself. And to make it all better, I have preserved said live as a reel on Instagram. You can view it here: https://www.instagram.com/p/CvC2kWGuEQY/

Enjoy.

Where the Sidewalk Begins is also still free for one more day. So go get a copy if you want one. You can find a copy here: https://www.amazon.com/Where-Sidewalk-Begins-Love-Poems-ebook/dp/B0C8DP1N12/

And that’s it from me. I’m going to go work on my novel. Or submit a poem or two somewhere. I don’t know.

Let’s just see.

Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye Copyright 2023

It is what it is.

Poetry can be difficult to sell. I understand that. It took me years to realize I not only love reading it, I love writing it. And when I buy a book of poetry, it’s most likely going to be a book of classics. Old favorites like Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson. Although there are still some living poets who can tempt me to read their work.

These are the poets who are famous in their own lifetime. I’ve read their work, and it’s terribly good, enough to make me feel inadequate in a truly awful way I don’t feel when I read my old favorites. I think that’s because my old favorites are legends and my new favorites will be legends. Seeing that happen is like witnessing something being born. Messy. Beautiful. Frightening.

I read my poetry and I know I’m not there. Maybe someday though. Until then, it is what it is.

You’re wearing the white dress you could never afford until you thought you were too old, with lacy sleeves and frills and pink ribbons.

From Mama’s Daffodils by Michelle Garren-Flye
Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye Copyright 2023

It’s kinda funny, actually.

Yesterday I saw a sign that said “Live like someone left the gate open.” It summoned to mind a dog running like crazy, sniffing everything he’d never been allowed to sniff, peeing freely wherever he wanted. Yeah, it’d be nice to live life that way.

Today, I saw a meme of a sign that read “Whatever you do today, do it with the confidence of a 4 year old in a batman t-shirt.” And I thought, yes. That’s what I need to do.

I’m a writer.

That does not mean I’m famous.

The publishing world is not designed for people like me. I know this. I am nothing but a middle-class white woman who hasn’t had any real hardship in her life. There’s nothing remarkable about me to make me stand out from the crowd.

I am everywoman.

I can string words together, sometimes even brilliantly. I know the basic rules of grammar (don’t ask me about who/whom though) so I can edit my own work and there won’t be any egregious errors. I also have a pretty decent vocabulary—hence egregious.

I’m a good writer, but I’m still everywoman.

I remember how excited I was when my first book was published. It was a good little romance. I still think it is. I’ve gone back and re-read it without flinching. Much. It was traditionally published by an ebook publisher. In fact, it came out in July 2010. It’s been out for thirteen years.

I’m still not famous.

Since 2010, I’ve had two more traditionally published ebooks (both romance). But I have self-published ten romances, a romantic fantasy trilogy, two children’s books, a young adult book, a comic book, and most recently, seven books of poetry.

Somebody left the gate open.

So here I am, a self-published, relatively unknown writer, frolicking along on the roadside where I’m not supposed to be, publishing books like I’m a 4-year-old who believes fiercely that I can become a superhero—or at least pee anywhere I want to. To make it even better, I now own a bookstore and I try my best to encourage people to try other writers than those embraced by the publishing world.

Because there are more stars out there than those you see at first glance. Some of us just aren’t given the opportunity to shine.

Are you sure you wish to hear my tale? It’s really only about me.

From “Han River” by Michelle Garren-Flye
Just a dandelion, really. Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye. Copyright 2023

It’s…scary.

I won’t lie. Instagram Lives are not my thing. It’s disquieting thinking strangers could be listening to me. It’s even more nerve-wracking thinking one of my friends could be on there. In fact, if I’m looking at the screen, I’ll see who’s watching.

It’s very different from recording myself reading poetry and putting it up. That live feedback is sort of shocking.

Why is it different from a live audience? I mean, I’m terrified of those, too, but somehow the online lives are worse. I guess it’s the faceless aspect of it. I have no idea if you’re laughing or crying or bored or even sleeping. Whatever’s going on on the other end of the Instagram line is a mystery to me.

All I can do is present the poetry I wrote as best I can and hope you like it.

At 11 a.m. Sunday.

Today I’m drawing yellow. Is it love or just spring?

From “Today I’m Drawing Yellow” by Michelle Garren-Flye
Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye. Copyright 2023

Are We Afraid of New Stories?

J.K. Rowling said, “There’s always room for a story that can transport people to another place.”

But is there? J.K. Rowling herself has become an icon of what I think of as “Cancelhood” by expressing an opinion that was not popular among…who? Twitterers? Gen Z? I don’t even know. But they “canceled” her so they have as much power as the men in black, the alternative state, the dark government.

The Cancelers.

I’m digressing a bit. I’m worried about storytelling. I’m worried we are no longer open to new ideas. Are there any new ideas?

It’s not a totally new thing that we are more comfortable with the stories we know. Look at how old Cinderella is. Is there anyone who doesn’t know that story in one iteration or another? We may all think of the Disney version, or the more educated may even know Charles Perrault’s version, but the story goes back much further in Greece and Asia.

Women have been losing shoes for freaking forever, man.

And bored royal men have been fetching them for us.

I’d never thought of Cinderella as a women’s empowerment tale until just now.

But again, I digress. I saw a news report today about the spectacular failure of Pixar’s latest movie (probably only spectacular failure because it was Pixar and Pixar is supposed to not fail). The report went on to examine the current hits, all of which are sequels, remakes and adaptations featuring familiar characters.

I’ve been watching a lot of Korean television recently. “K-dramas” as we Americans call them, aren’t necessarily new stories (they’re mostly soapy love stories or about lawyers or doctors—very familiar territory), but they are told from a different point of view in a different setting, sometimes in very unique ways. (I’m looking at you, “Extraordinary Attorney Woo”!)

The art of storytelling is reaching its end because the epic slice of truth, wisdom, is dying out.

Walter Benjamin

I hope that’s not true. It’s definitely getting harder to tell new stories as the routes of communication are closing in on themselves. Disney owns Pixar and ABC, FOX owns CNN, let’s not even get started on the lack of publishing houses. It’s easier for the megacorporations to churn out more and more of the same stuff the public has consumed for years. But in doing so, they’re taking away the superpower of communication, stripping away mankind’s ability to see beyond what is to what could be.

As storytellers, maybe it’s up to us? Find a way to make stories that are new but introduced in a familiar way. Or a way to tell old stories in a very new way. Maybe we have to risk being canceled to break through walls now. Maybe we have to tell stories that aren’t comfortable to hear or read.

Maybe we need to lose a shoe and see who brings it back to us?

Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can’t remember who we are or why we’re here.

Sue Monk Kidd
My book of “love poems” will be available soon. Copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Spoiler 3: Where the Sidewalk Begins update

I’ve been super busy working on Where the Sidewalk Begins. This book is a new start for me in a lot of ways, so I’m taking my time and making sure it’s exactly what I want it to be. I’m really loving the way each block is coming together in the bookbuilding process.

Here’s a tiny large spoiler for you. The illustration is my favorite from the book. The quote is from one of my favorite poems in the book. Of course, I’m trying to only include my favorite poems in this book, but you get it.

Copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

I Promised Spoilers

I haven’t really followed through, have I? I’m close to having Where the Sidewalk Begins ready, but I’ve only done one spoiler! lol. I’m sure you’re all hanging in there waiting for each one, right?

Appropriately, I pulled today’s “spoiler” from a poem titled “Echoes in a Fangirll’s Heart”, inspired mostly by David Bowie, with a small nod to Stray Kids (if you’re not familiar with them, check them out).

I hope you enjoy. And I hope you’ll stick with me for another month or so when I’ll have the book finished!

Spoiler #2. Copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

What I’ve Been Doing

I know, I spend an entire month on here giving you a new poem (or something) every day, then I disappear for more than a week. I have been working and planning, though. My next book, Where the Sidewalk Begins (with apologies to Shel Silverstein), must be published! I revealed the cover at the end of April. Now I’ve begun planning the shape of the book itself.

I have (thanks in large part to April’s poem a day) enough love poems to make a book. It took me a while to decide how to illustrate it, though. I believe I’ve settled on the look I want. So, from now until I publish the book, I’m going to give you a “spoiler” image with a quote from one of the poems at least once a week. This will keep me working steadily. I’m hoping to have an illustration for each poem, so 50 poems, 50 illustrations, but it might end up being half that many. We’ll have to see.

Anyway, here’s “spoiler #1” for the poem “Where the Sidewalk Begins”.

Copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye

Day 30: Happy National Poetry Month!

It’s bittersweet this ending of National Poetry Month. This one, more than many others, has meant a lot. I’m happy it’s over, but sad at the same time.

I’m happy because I have a lot of material to work with when I got to put together Where the Sidewalk Begins. I’ve written some good stuff, some decent stuff, some stuff that needs work. It’s going to be interesting to see how it comes together.

I’m sad because I enjoyed the pressure of writing a poem a day. Why can’t I continue that after this month? Well, because it’s a bit of a pain in the ass. I mean, look at just the past few days. I’ve been sick, I’ve been trying to get caught up at work, I’ve had two big events this weekend. And every day I either had to write something poetic or do an Instagram live.

Speaking of the Instagram live, I do realize I owe you one of those. I promise to do it soon. As I mentioned before, I’ve been sick and I don’t really look great right now. So I decided to take today off and just write another poem instead.

So here’s the last poem of National Poetry Month 2023. Thank you for joining me this month.

Symphony in My Head
By Michelle Garren-Flye

Today I hear flutes playing 
…not in the distance…
No, they’re inside my head.

Trumpets kick in a blaring note
…make me start a bit…
But they’re not the only ones.

A harp, a violin, a trombone or two
…is that an electric guitar?...
It’s a full-blown symphony up there.

The drumbeats start and I have to move
…what other choice do I have?...
I’ll dance along, keep time with their song.

Oh, it’ll keep me going all day long
…the rhythm, the flow, the beat…
How I love this symphony in my head!
Working cover for Where the Sidewalk Begins. Hope you’ll check it out when it’s done!
Copyright 2023 Michelle Garren-Flye