tarot reading | BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye

Yesterday I posted a semi-free verse poem based on a Tarot reading. It got some good feedback. For some reason, recently, I’ve been fascinated with poetic form and transforming poetry to different forms. Today I was reading sonnets (classic stuff, not mine), and it occurred to me that yesterday’s free verse would read really well as a sonnet.

Or does it?

You can judge. Here’s yesterday’s post. Let me know in the comments!

On Receiving a Tarot Warning of You
By Michelle Garren-Flye

Just for today, promise me the world,
even if it’s just a pack of cards.
I’ll dance about, my wings unfurled,
cavort until the fall of the stars.
Judge me harshly, naked and cold,
standing alone in my own grave. 
Wash me away in the coming flood!
New beginnings are only for the brave.
The dark man glowers, my love he denies,
promises made in Cupid’s embrace.
I will bare my heart, my soul to your cries,
but our abstract romance never takes place.
Through sunset’s blood, Death sweeps
and star’s life out of the pitcher leaks.

Photo and Poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye

On Receiving a Tarot Warning of You
By Michelle Garren-Flye

Which numbers more, the chirp of crickets
or the sparkle of the stars?

Today you promise me the world
but it’s a pack of cards.
Dance! Let your wings unfurl
before we all fall down.

Oh, will the judgment be enough
or leave us standing naked and cold in our own graves
surrounded by the flood?
Rejoice in new beginnings and your past will reward you.

I fear the dark, glowering man on the throne,
his staff held casually, bruisingly on a booted leg.
When will he leave me, let me be alone?
Can I knock the crown from his head?

I search for the promised love,
bare my soul and body before Cupid’s embrace,
but romance still seems far away
and likely to avoid me—or lay me low.

Death’s scythe continues its sweep,
cutting back excessive joy of life,
Distant sunset blood does creep
and brings along fear of living only in strife.

Only promise me the song of the stars,
and pour out your life to the babbling river.