pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

FOREVER SIX

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This little beauty is no longer six, wouldn’t want to be six, and would probably want me to let you know this is not based on a true story.  But I paired my poem with this pic because, well, I love her death and the ‘tude totally works. 😉   Not sure who snapped this shot.  Maybe her daddy? 

“I think I’ll be six now forever and ever,”
she said, and I told her she’d need to be clever
to pull off this whimsical, wondrous endeavor.
Now, did I believe her?  I didn’t.  However,
she smirked as she pulled out her six-ever lever.
‘K. Whatever.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

(This is a sequel to Now We are Six, by the extraordinary A. A. Milne.  My poem begins with his final line.)

ARMED TO THE TEETH

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Image courtesy of Pixabay’s ThePixelman

My stomach is tied up in knots.
I wonder who’s calling the shots.
And will they admit
when the bullet gets bit
even they had their own second thoughts?

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

THE PAST IS A FOREIGN COUNTRY

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Photo by Keith R. Good, 2014

“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”  From The Go-Between, by L.P. Hartley

Hindsight is a curious thing.
It can swing from delight
to fright, and anything between.
I mean, we’ve seen the ways
the history books make crooks
look chaste.  But oh,
the aftertaste.
And who would know
we owe apologies for
theologies twisted,
persisted, and falsely
scripted.
As we become aware
and lay bare the lies,
our own past appears
foreign in our eyes.
Don’t bury the dead.
Look behind; look ahead.
Yearn for better days.
Find better ways.
Learn who we are.
Raise the bar.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

DEANNA (BRIGHT AS DAY)

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Freehand original art by Deanna Marie Metts

Her light was dimmed years ago. Everything she enjoyed was taken from her.  Books.  Music.  Art.  NY Times crosswords. Energy. Drive. Laughter. All of it, gone.  All of it.  But in God’s timing and in His way, the expression of herself through her art has been returned.  Not in the same way, but brand new, as God renewed her spirit and drew her to Himself.  Rekindling her light with His own, she is never truly alone.   New Spirit. New Light never fails her, despite that which ails her.

At her drawing board,
what was lost is now restored.
New way. Bright as Day.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

CHRISTMAS’S ONLY PERFECT GIFT

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If one knew not what Christmas was about,
it seems that they’d find little evidence
of Jesus Christ.  Not much to make them doubt
the countless signs of our greed’s eminence.

The season focuses on “perfect” gifts,
beginning in our early childhood.
Our storefronts mostly offer toys and glitz,
all tempting us to spend more than we should.

It’s not that I’m a “humbug.” Truly, not.
But when I’m home from shopping, my heart warms.
My focus shifts from things that I have bought,
to what I wish were more the season’s norms.

A Christmas flag portrays Christ’s holy birth.
A swaddled Baby rests in bed of straw:
This One Who Saves, through whom we have our worth,
Whose sinless life fulfilled for us God’s law.

The manger scene glows warm beneath my tree,
while Santa makes his presence known nearby –
his hat removed, head bowed, on bended knee,
in humble awe.  Let God be glorified!

Let’s celebrate the birth of God’s own Son.
In Him, our full redemption has been won!

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

 

GOD BLESSED US, EVERY ONE

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Image credit:  Pixabay

 

Can we be thankful
for that which we aren’t aware
we’ve even received?

Yet God has blessed us,
every one of us, with
His very own Son,

leaving the glory
of heavenly realms aside,
born of a virgin

in humblest of means,
crying with the bleating sheep,
and braying donkeys.

No silent night, this,
yet holy, miraculous,
and liberating.

A virgin woman
bore this “for unto us” Child
in obedience

to the very God
Who chose her to give life to
the Giver of Life.

She named Him Jesus.
He who had no beginning –
Who was here before

the world’s foundation –
the Co-Creator of all –
became a newborn.

He grew in wisdom,
and did only that which His
Father told Him to.

His Father gave Him
all things, and left our judgement
in His holy hands.

We are guilty, all.
But the Father made a way:
His name is Jesus.

God gave His own Self
in the Person of the Son
to redeem the lost.

We are all the lost,
falling short of God’s glory.
But now He sees us

through the saving grace
of The One who redeemed us
on Calvary’s cross.

So I ask again:
Can we be thankful for that
which we aren’t aware

we’ve even received?
Jesus Christ died once, for all.
Many witnessed it.

And many witnessed
also His resurrection
from that very death –

the death that was ours.
He gifted us with His love,
and His saving grace.

Know Him, and know this:
God sanctified us. God blessed
us, every one.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

McKelvey’s

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Photo source unknown.  Found at Bob on Books.

When I was a child, Christmas season included a trip downtown to window shop. Mom and Aunt Peg, my sister,  our Grandma, and our cousins went together.   My favorite was McKelvey’s Department Store, where our moms let us kids go to the fifth floor – the toy floor! Countless beautiful dolls, doll houses, trains, erector sets, life-sized stuffed animals, puzzles, paper dolls, coloring books and crayons galore, and a huge gumball machine. Imagine the magic! Not just a section, but an entire floor devoted to toys.   And imagine the disappointment when Mom and Aunt Peg came through the elevator doors, and we knew it was time to leave.

No purchase needed
when you’re dreaming with cousins
and Santa’s in town.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

ELOQUENT TEARS (No Words for My Savior)

Infinite grace, unhindered and free
Limitless mercy, darkness eclipsed
Undeserved pardon, lavished on me
Gratitude lies unexpressed on my lips

Silence of tongue, and hands I can’t raise
Words strung together fall short in their worth
Only my tears are fluent in praise
Here in my tears, my worship gives birth

Eloquent tears spill praise to The King
Dampening cheeks He crafted in love
Moistening lips that yearn to sing
Genuine worship to God above

© Marie Elena Good, 2014

SNOW WHITE (acrostic)

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She
Nibbled
On
Wicked
Witch’s
Harvest,
Ill-advisedly.
The
End.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

MIDDLE

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Photo credit:  Deanna Marie Metts

Supposed to write a “middle” poem,
but got too much to do.
You caught me in the middle of
a critical breakthrough!

I’m finally centered, finally calm,
and finally bridged a gap,
and now I’m in the middle of
a well-earned little nap.

So, see, I cannot possibly
be writing as I sleep.
But maybe there’s an old poem
in the middle of my heap.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019