FOUND POEM
The yellow stickies
with black ink I love yous, are
poetry enough.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2019
pictured words
a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
August 23, 2019
August 22, 2019
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Don’t like my string cheese stringy.
Don’t care for fishy fish.
Don’t want this squash-y thingy
that’s squishing in my dish.
I’ll take my eggplant scrambled, please,
with not-too-toasty toast.
I feel so sad for black-eyed peas,
and for the poor shanked roast.
My coffee grounds me just enough
to move on with my day,
but navigating it’s still tough.
Will curds show me the whey?
You’re nuts about my pecan pie,
but beef about my stew.
And I just chuckle, and here’s why:
It’s so fun ribbing you. 😉
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
August 11, 2019
SUMMER FAIR
“Let’s rhyme,” he says, and so I do
of summer fairs and barbeque,
with marching-band parades uptown,
and small-town smiles all around.
The carny folk that drew you in
with big stuffed prizes you could win,
but off you’d go with some cheap toy
you’d carry home, but not enjoy.
Yet nonetheless, you’ll reminisce,
and I will guarantee you this:
That you will wish you were still there:
that child at the summer fair.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
July 31, 2019
MY LORD AND MY GOD
Photo by Keith R. Good
When I breathe my last
I will see You face to face,
and life will begin.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
July 29, 2019
PARTNER IN RHYME
It is no small thing
to call yourself a poet.
Thanks to you, I do.
July 29, 2019
MOM (a tribute)
I.
You told me of the love in my eyes for you
when you first held me in your arms
the day I was born.
Is it any wonder.
I knew you, and had already experienced
the gentle warmth that was you.
II.
All my friends thought me the luckiest girl
to be able to call you mom,
even though you didn’t tolerate misbehavior
or disrespect. They saw the love right through
the discipline. I tried to emulate you,
but it seems that isn’t the same as
it being a part of who you are.
III.
I saw how the mention of you
brought warm smiles.
Your gentle demeanor,
laughter, and love
were contagious.
IV.
I understand being an introvert,
and I ponder with amazement
how you dealt with that part of you.
You could have written a “how to,”
I believe. I understand more and more
the sacrifices you made.
The way you encouraged others,
and always had a kind word to offer.
The way you treated everyone
with the same level of respect.
Fiercely loyal to those you were closest to,
in ways that had to have been draining.
But we didn’t see that you were drained.
You would simply go “rest [your] back
for a few minutes,” or “rest [your] eyes.”
V.
You were my moral compass,
and still are. I feel your nudges.
I hear your gentle voice. I pray
I inherited more of you
than I see in myself.
From womb to death,
and now beyond,
I thank God for the blessing
of you.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
July 28, 2019
All About the Love
Dad was a teacher, a band director, and a professional musician. In all of these professions, he was my father. I was always learning in his presence. He gave everything one hundred percent. I hear, in his voice: “Nothing great was ever accomplished without enthusiasm.” “Take it with you. If you need it, you’ll have it.” “Do your best.” “Practice right.” “Never look back. Just move forward.” “No regrets.” “Love is the most important thing.”
All of it, important. All of it, useful. All of it, wise.
There were times I was privileged to witness him at his core. Times that planted pride and love in my heart that I can hardly express. One of the things that made my knees weak came very late in life. I was sitting with a now extremely fragile man who was watching the love of his life slip slowly away, due to Alzheimer’s. “I’m not sure how to handle the coming day when I go to her room to kiss her goodnight, and she doesn’t know who I am.” My heart. The conversation was one of the hardest of my life. But also one that showed me he was still, in his elderly and fragile state, my father. As we talked about dark days ahead that could begin any moment, he gave me advice that encompassed all he was: “No matter what happens, remember her love.”
Love enthusiastically.
Love takes practice. Practice daily.
Take love with you. If you need it, you’ll have it.
(You’ll need it.)
Thank you, Dad. Thank you.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
July 25, 2019
WHERE LIES MY INTEREST?
Photo by Keith R. Good
When I was a child,
I loved to pretend.
The “what” mattered little,
As it was all in the imagining.
As a young adult,
I loved to garden,
Bicycle, and hike.
The “where” mattered little,
As it was all in the doing.
As a now-older adult,
My passions are to
Pray, write, and ponder.
The “why” matters much,
As it is all in the love.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
July 17, 2019
I DON’T MEAN TO BE MEAN, BUT …
HA!!! Photo by Keith R. Good
The times I feel breath near my face
Makes me nervous of who’s in my space.
Are you foe? Are you friend?
I don’t want to offend,
But deceased, just desist! Don’t touch base!
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
July 15, 2019
AMERICAN ENGLISH
American English is clearly a rebel,
against which I must rebel!
And while we’re on the subject,
why do we subject ourselves
to such madness as homographs?
Just for laughs?
And who invented them?
(Eye roll) What a gem!
Well, I think not.
And through all this thorough thought,
I’m fraught with not knowing
Who thought up homophones.
Dim watt!
And silent letters, and
those that change the sounds of others, too.
I have no clue. Do you?
Shrew!
And rules? Hardly more than flukes!
Like the whole “i before e” thing,
albeit cutely rhyming,
is the height of forfeiting
the rule books.
Kooks!
Now let’s talk contranyms.
For instance, weather means to withstand,
but also to wear away?
Well may I just say
only a contrary soul would assign
opposing meanings to the same word.
Turd.
I could go on, but you would just yawn,
and the point would be forgone.
So for now, just know
English brings me woe.
Whoa …
It’s plain to see why. *sigh*
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
