Short poems fast track readers, but they’re a poet’s measured expression.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
Written for Robert Lee Brewer’s April Poem-a-Day challenge. Today’s prompt is to write an express poem.
Allen Ginsberg created the poetic form he called the American Sentence. It is a complete sentence of 17 syllables.
It’s stress memory that makes them strong enough to bloom in unknown soil.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
Written for Robert Lee Brewer’s April Poem-a-Day challenge. Today’s prompt is to write a seed poem.
Allen Ginsberg created the poetic form he called the American Sentence. It is a complete sentence of 17 syllables.
silver splatters on
dark construction-paper hair
of pulled ribbon curls
with eraser-rubbed
quarter-sized patch of almond
alopecia
now-sparce arches frame
uneven eyes colored with
loosely held crayon
trying to capture
the green for which there is no
Crayola pigment
but a fine black pen
and a steady hand capture
right-eye’s lopsided
cat-pupil-like shape:
a visual reminder
of eye surgery
thinner, aging lips
colored deep red. tempted to
draw outside the lines,
but she won’t bother
because a genuine smile
makes up for the lack
Sfumato technique?
No. Since this is her portrait,
she faces herself.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
(Sfumato is a technique for softening and blending.)
Connecting Neighbor with Neighbour
Completed in 1929, the remarkable Ambassador Bridge over the Detroit River is about a one-and-a-half-mile suspension bridge that connects the U.S.A.’s Detroit, Michigan with Canada’s Windsor, Ontario. Being likely the most unobservant person you’ve ever (or maybe never) met, it amazes me that I’ve never found myself unintentionally on the entrance ramp. I’d have approximately 7500 feet to contemplate how to handle my situation upon arrival. My chances of being prepared, dignified, and self-assured are nearly nada.
“Hi! Give me a hug!
Finally, we meet! And me,
without my passport.”
© Marie Elena Good 2026
Welcome, then Watch
Women who are new to our country, culture, and language enter Miss Tatyana’s classroom for their first day of school. For many, it is their first day of school, ever. They enter a clean, well-lit, lovely room. They are greeted with warm, smiling eyes, and an offer of tea. They see words they can’t read, written on a large whiteboard, “I didn’t come here to teach you. I came here to love you. Love will teach you.” These words, from ancient Indian scripture, speak the heart of their new teacher. She translates the words to their own language, and watches as their nerves visibly ease. They hug, love in return, and begin to learn.
When welcomed inside
and planted in prepared soil,
non-native plants thrive.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
Sisters in Service, Walk Proud
There are those who travel
because they have the desire
and the means.
There are those who travel
because they have the need to escape
with no means.
And there are those who travel
because duty calls them …
and this means they must.
These are the sisters who, steadfastly,
walked in service to our country.
They served intentionally.
Honorably. Sacrificially. Heroically.
Love of their homeland drove them.
The road they chose wasn’t easy,
nor was it safe.
It was demanding.
Challenging. Grueling. Trying.
It took discipline. Heart. Courage. Resilience.
A willingness to be at risk,
knowing they will likely be unacknowledged
and unseen, as had their sisters before them.
They chose this road not for glory,
but for the betterment of
the land and people they love.
And this road they’ve chosen
is one they themselves built
with broken ceiling’s glass.
© Marie Elena Good, 2026
It was my honor to read this poem at the Women Veterans retreat sponsored by American Legion Post #587 and Women Veterans Initiative yesterday, (February 21, 2026). It was humbling being in the presence of these women.
Alysa Liu
Proud daughter of a
political refugee,
gold wasn’t her goal.
Those who’d see her worth
only through a gold medal,
wouldn’t see her worth.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
Trust sweater weather
for steamy mug of tea
and warm conversation.
Affecting music
even with no lyrics, moves
the coldest of hearts.
Winter Olympics,
please bring earnest empathy
nation-to-nation.
Mittens are better
for keeping fingers warm,
for they get to cuddle.
Each winter, our birds
follow suet meals with a
preheated bird bath.
(c) Marie Elena Good 2026
Todays and Tomorrows are Made of Moments
I hail tomorrow
as if this day I have is
not nearly enough.
Or dread tomorrow
as if this day I am in
is all that matters.
Lord help me embrace
the moments and hours of now,
before time slips by.
Help me spend my time
in ways that venerate You.
Not frivolously.
Not indifferently.
Kindly. Considerately.
In lockstep with You.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
#seventeenintwentysix
You know the saying: “There aren’t enough hours in a day.” For me, it seems true. Whether I’m swamped or have a relatively clear schedule, tasks sit languidly. Then there’s, “God gave them more than 24 hours in a day.” This isn’t a saying. It is simply what my husband and I tell each other regarding a few people we intimately know. These are people whose eyes appear to focus on the manifold good God seems to ask of them. Their hands and feet don’t falter. They accomplish more in one day than I do in perhaps a month. Evidently time is of no concern when motivated hearts are in sync with God’s own.
“She would have helped
had she but found the time,”
the saddest stone cries.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
pictured words 