It has been four years
since we nearly lost Izzy,
our grandbaby girl.
It has been two years
since my mother passed on to
the heavenly realm.
Now my son-in-law’s
mother is hospitalized,
fighting for her life.
The second week of
the second month of each year
feels like a movie –
a film I am in,
but choose to view from a safe
distance. Unseated.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
A poet and his princess
In April of 2009,
I shyly met poets online.
But there was one who
would help me break through.
I call him my partner in rhyme.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
I’m thankful for this man I’ve known for 10 years, but have yet to meet. Without his encouragement, I would never have referred to myself as a “poet.” I’m not the best poet, and never will be, but I am a poet nonetheless. Thank you, Walt. Thank you.
P.S. This little gal looks like she could brighten the darkest of days! ❤
Photo by Daniel Nebreda, at Pixabay
Call faith what you will –
a crutch, if it helps me stand
on my principles.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2020
I’m a home body
but sometimes to what degree
still surprises me.
I have no swagger
but sometimes I am staggered
I look so haggard.
I’m now sixty one.
Changes in me equal none.
So why am I stunned?
I’m simply Marie,
and nothing should surprise me.
But “should,” is the key.
No surprise to me:
My prized phrase that has lasted?
“I’m flabbergasted.”
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
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.)
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
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
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
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
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
