Sometimes the words flow easily and sometimes not so much.
when you don’t feel the rhyme
by michelle garren flye
you say you’re down and just can’t
feel the rhyme
the world off its axis and fallen aslant
you haven’t the time
and life’s hours seem too scant
let the pain flow away instead
to hold us in sway
while an unjust world continues to tread
unless you stay
your hand and find the rhythm instead.
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.
How to Write a Proper Sonnet
By Michelle Garren Flye
First, find someone whom you can pledge your heart;
Second, you’ll want to make sure you can rhyme;
Next, make certain you’ve perfected the art
Of striking the beat and staying on time.
Taking the next step is a bit tricky—
Into your feelings you’ll need to dig deep.
Telling us how you feel can get sticky,
But trust me, get ready to take that leap.
Fill your lungs with all the air and desire
You are able to rouse on short notice.
Holler out your emotions with fire!
Then postpone to see who reads your opus.
Instead you could do what I have done here:
Follow the steps without getting too dear.
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.
When she was born, I finished the process of becoming a mother of three.
For My Daughter
By Michelle Garren Flye
You’re my heart and my soul,
You’re a star in my sky.
You made our family whole,
When the stork dropped you by.
You are loved, my firefly,
Never doubt your self-worth.
No one else could satisfy
Your place on this earth.
Happy May Day! I remember one particularly happy May Day in elementary school when our art teacher arranged for us to dress up in white and perform a maypole dance. I loved the pretty dress I wore and the colorful ribbons we wove around the maypole (which was actually a flag pole, I think). I’ve always thought it would be fun to do that with my kids, but I guess—like many fun things—the maypole dance is actually sort of a pagan ritual.
May Day and pagan rituals aside, I have completed my own ritual of writing a poem a day in April, and I am actually quite happy with the results. I learned a lot about poetry. It’s a totally different style of writing than writing prose, and especially different from writing a novel. I think my sense of rhythm improved this month and I know I got better (or at least more daring) at rhyme. But what really surprised me was the sense, when I completed a poem, that I’d created a piece of art. Like a sculpture or a painting. Much more so than when I write novels.
I don’t think it has to do with the length of the story. I believe it’s the skill required to combine rhyme, rhythm, structure and story all in a compact nature. Though I can write a poem in a matter of minutes, it requires more thought and planning than you’d think. So, in a way, it’s like sculpting words.
As it happens, I didn’t love every poem I wrote last month, either. But I am happy to note that I only resorted to a simple haiku three times, one of those being Easter. I chose haiku style for the three stanzas of “Headline Design” on purpose, but I don’t think it was a simple haiku. I’m not sure which is my favorite. Possibly “Living in Eden” or “In Over Your Head”. It’s hard for me to like “Self Portrait” because it feels sort of—too revealing. But at the same time, I think it is good. I really like “Beverly Cleary 101”, too.
So that’s it for my poem-a-day-thon. But I think I’ll still post poetry on here from time to time. And I definitely plan to keep writing it. That sense of accomplishment at the end of each poem is too satisfying to give up!
