Far & wee: The (video) audiobook

It’s one thing to tell you how special this little book is. It’s another to show you. So here I am in a one-take video, reading my book out loud and explaining it as well as showing you the pictures as best I could.

Want to look for the balloon-man with me?

A box of dreams

I do not know what I want from you. I’m just certain there is something more and the only reason I consider love or romance is because I do not yet know the other. But my soul yearns for it. Across stars and oceans I call. But all I get back is the echo of a whistle of a far away balloon man.

Yesterday my book came. Far & wee. This is my “seize the day” book. I started writing it on May 21 and today, June 15—25 days later—it’s on the shelf at my store. It’s available on Amazon. You can read it if you want.

I’ve never been real good at “launching” my books. I suck at marketing. Especially the initial teasing about what it’s about and throwing myself a big party and signing. I’m more like, hey, I wrote a book. You know, one day it’s not on the shelf at my store, the next day it is. lol.

This book is no different in that respect. Yesterday it was not on the shelf. Today it is. I’ve signed it, priced it and even put up a sign that it’s mine (I don’t usually do that). But yesterday when I opened the box, I got this feeling that this box of books was different.

It’s a box of dreams.

My box of dreams.

New poetry book announcement: Far & wee (with excerpt—sort of)

Cover copyright 2022 Michelle Garren-Flye

So you’ve been with me from the beginning of this thing. May 21 doesn’t seem like that long ago, right? What is that, 19 days?

I never would have thought in a million years that I would write, illustrate and publish a book in nineteen days. But I did.

I’ve often felt that I write what is given to me from…somewhere else. I write for someone else and there’s a purpose I don’t necessarily know about for my writing. I don’t know who it is out there who needs to read this book, but it’s here now. It was my obsession, pushing everything else out of the way for 19 days. Now I need to move on to finish up some other projects. Projects that took me longer than 19 days. But I think I can do it now.

Anyway, as a little introduction/excerpt to the book, here’s the actual introduction of the book as it appeared on my computer while I was laying out the book.

Copyright 2022 Michelle Garren-Flye

Balloon-man Project: Excerpt from Sonnet #12

It’s 12:30 a.m. and I have to be up at 7 a.m. My son graduates high school this weekend. I’m working between graduation events. It’s a busy weekend.

But I’m up right now because I really wanted to share something else from my balloon-man project. You know, the one that seized me by the freaking throat, picked me up and shook me until I agreed to indulge it? And now it won’t let me go.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit violent of a description for what’s going on here, but I do feel like this one came out of nowhere. I mean, I decided to write sonnets one day and bam. There it was. Twenty sonnets in two days, all connected, telling a story. And now I’ve illustrated more than half of them and I’m pretty sure I know how to lay them out in book format (a very tiny book), and I’m thinking it’ll be ready about the same time as Hypercreativity, which I worked on for months.

I’ve never had a book happen this way before.

Poem and illustration by Michelle Garren-Flye

Poem: Adrift (Sonnet #15)

My heart is painful today, and I feel it is shared by so many others. But there’s also an apathy out there, convincing us that others’ blood is not ours. This is a mistake.

Adrift

Sonnet #15

By Michelle Garren-Flye

Safe on my boat of Belief, I will drift,

alone still, listening for your far song;

crimson sea all around—what caused this rift?

What action could create a flood so wrong?

Blood laps at the side of my little boat—

I work hard to avoid each splash and drip.

Something made this sea on which I now float;

An event so awful it caused hardship.

Is it right I ignore what I evade—

what doesn’t hit me will not hurt me—right?

My thoughts and prayers will come to the aid

of those visited by horrors each night.

In the end we are family in Pain

adrift on an ocean of bloody rain.

Photo by Michelle Garren-Flye

Poem 16 (National Poetry Month): Lost Days (For the Seniors)

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.

A more appropriate photo for quarantine. Enjoy the little things. Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 14 (National Poetry Month): How to Write a Sonnet

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.

Photo by Michelle Garren Flye

Poem 4 (National Poetry Month): Everything Grows (for the Bard)

An attempt at a sonnet, sort of a sonneninzio, inspired by Shakespeare’s Sonnet 15:

Everything Grows (for the Bard)

By Michelle Garren Flye

Everything grows, according to Shakespeare—

From the smallest microbe to the tallest tree.

Everything rushes to ends we all fear,

Hurrying along to the only way to be free.

What happens to us in the end, do you think?

What happens at last to the things that grow?

When life’s grasp loosens on eternity’s brink,

And we find ourselves caught in the universe’s flow.

What mysteries might we at last resolve?

Some say we fade, less important than we thought.

But maybe we find our way to finally evolve?

Into something better, something we’ve always sought.

Whatever happens, we can’t deny the bard was right.

Everything grows, everything rushes into the night.

Everything grows. Photo by Michelle Garren Flye