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.
I considered titling this poem “Lasting Effects”, but I prefer the blatancy of this title instead.
COVID-19
By Michelle Garren Flye
Don’t do that, it will make you sick.
Don’t go out—don’t even try.
The virus is out there, it’s too quick,
You can’t outrun it, you can’t defy.
But what if it never ends?
What if we’re stuck this way?
There may be no amends
If the virus is here to stay.
Fear has found a place of assembly,
Even in the hearts of the brave.
Soldiers cannot fight this enemy,
And maybe there is nothing to save.
Maybe this is what we’ve earned
Through years of war and strife—
When we’ve never really learned
What’s important in life.
Like many I fell for a Facebook trend recently which consisted of posting your senior photo in support of this year’s graduating class. I don’t actually have my senior photo anymore because it was a few years ago, but I do have my old yearbook, so I pulled it out and took a pic of my old photo. And posted it with some encouraging words for this year’s seniors who are basically missing out on a pretty fun part of their lives while we take our corona break.
But I started thinking. Was that post more about me than it was the seniors? Probably. I mean, I looked good at 18. We all looked better than we do now, let’s be honest. I got a lot of nice comments on the photo, too, and those are always good. But how in the hell was it supposed to make today’s seniors feel better?
So, as an act of contrition, I wrote a poem, and not just any poem, either. An Italian sonnet, which is widely regarded as a difficult form. Here goes:
Lost Days (for the Seniors)
By Michelle Garren Flye
Just a worn out page in an old yearbook,
A memory captured in a photo.
Days gone by in years long past, but lo!
Posted here now for you to take a look—
To show you we know what you forsook.
Has anyone ever been dealt such a blow?
Taking your freedom, knocking you low.
But we’re here with you, do not be mistook.
Wait! Is it possible we are in the wrong?
What is an old photo but a memory kept,
An experience savored in celebration?
This is what you’re denied all along.
These lost days are what you have wept—
While we make posts of self-congratulation.
Coalescence
By Michelle Garren Flye
My brother had a kaleidoscope
When we were little, and I
loved looking into it
Watching the little
Flowers and
Figures
Join.
I feel like that now, watching as
Tiny beliefs and strategies
Join together into one
Whole at the center.
A tiny pinprick,
With fans of
Color
Expanding
Outward in a
Glorious rainbow
Technicolor colors
Many individuals with
Only one cause at the center.
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
(un)social
By Michelle Garren Flye
if I waste my time worrying
what others might think
my life may pass in a blink
leaving me sorrowing
(whose fault would that be
where does the blame lie
if common courtesy I defy
and refuse to say I’m sorry)
life goes on with and without
toilet paper on the shelves
and the news overwhelms
the very people it is about
I’ll just drink my corona (beer)
with a little slice of lime
and we’ll talk another time
no matter what you may hear
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.
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.
A walk after rain is often enlightening. A walk after rain in the spring never fails to bring to mind e.e. cummings. A walk after rain while thinking of e.e. cummings will either bring inspiration…or make you feel like a dullard. I’ve had it both ways, but I still like to try.
April 9, 2020
Inspiration After the Storm
By Michelle Garren Flye
Shhh.
This is my favorite part.
After the storm,
When the world comes back to life.
Listen.
The birds sing their
Survivor song.
I walk quiet
Through the mud-
Luscious world
Cummings warned me about.
Careful. Feel it?
Desire.
For the words
For the waiting photo
For inspiration—
But all I see is the mess after the storm.
Leaves and branches
Cast aside,
Petals litter
Wet pavement.
My dog stops to watch as a bird bathes in a puddle—
But I didn’t bring the right lens.
We walk on…Oh,
Where is my balloon man?
But wait.
Listen.
Shhh.
I hear him now.
Or maybe it’s a frog.
No, look.
That leaf is new.
That rose.
That puddle with petals
Of the dogwood tree
Drowned inside.
Oh yes.
This is my favorite part.
Inspiration always comes after the storm.
April 8, 2020
Spellbound
By Michelle Garren Flye
I stopped for the butterfly,
Spellbound by his splendor,
As if he were dressed in finery
At an event where I wore jeans.
Sunlight sparked jeweled wings,
Black and gold speckled shade.
Magnificence in the midst
Of common beauty.
He took no notice of me
Though I froze in place
To make way for his jaywalking.
He just fluttered by,
Leaving me foolish,
A heart-deep longing
He woke in me.
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 