pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

BREAKING

33475152902_808e51316f_n

Tired of news that
breaks
leaks
tweets
reeks
harms
arms them
imperils us
ends thus.

 

#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

birch-1593725_960_720

Photo credit:  Wildschuetz at pixabay.com

May we learn by heart
that live is three quarters love
and one quarter “I.”

#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

RECONNECT

601035_427583373929734_156293894_n

Photo by Keith R. Good

just once
catch first glint of dawn
chase rise and fall
of moon and sun and sigh

#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

 

Israelite’ish

12718153_10153811329421351_1168068422088427939_n

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

Tell me again
how You parted
the waters
that threatened my soul
to sink.

Remind me
the healings
when reeling
from lie’s ink;
death’s brink.

Retell the hell
from which
you snatched my feet.
Unseat untruth
I tell my past.

I ask, let’s talk
of solid rock
that drenched the earth
and quenched
my thirst.

Recall for me
the blood-soaked tree –
the guarantee
you set me free

from me.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

THE DIME

Izzy

I know impish Izzy who swallowed a dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.

I know impish Izzy who swallowed banana
that tasted so sweet and that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime.
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.

I know impish Izzy is waiting to poop.
And each time she does, Momma’s needing to “snoop.”
She swallowed banana that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.

I know a sweet Momma who thinks this all stinks.
Whose sweet little Izzy is full of high jinx
And while she’s high jinxing, she’s waiting to poop
And each time she does, Momma’s needing to snoop.
She swallowed banana that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.

I know impish Izzy, who gives us a run
For proverbial money. She’s playful, that one.
Her sweet little Momma just thinks this all stinks,
While Izzy is impish and full of high jinx
And while she’s high jinxing, she’s waiting to poop
And each time she does, Momma’s needing to snoop.
She swallowed banana that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.

Our Izzy is loaded with life and fun sass.
And as for the dime? Well, this too shall pass.

(And you ALL knew THAT was coming! 😀 )

 

Inspired also, of course by:
I KNOW AN OLD LADY
by Rose Bonne and Alan Mills

THE GOD I KNOW (a sonnet to my Savior)

13091901_10154003359141351_4276658190002327733_n

Bleeding Heart Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

I used to think I knew the God I know.
But over time, I’ve come to know Him more.
More intimately close than long ago,
I’ve learned more of this Heart I can’t ignore.

In part, I’ve come to recognize my sin
As more egregious than I had before.
This veil of righteousness is wispy thin,
For I am but a sinner at my core.

The realization of the heart of God,
Whose love spilled blood for even such as I
(A seemingly good woman, deeply flawed),
Just makes me long to praise and glorify

The One who drew me to Him as a child,
In whom I’ve grown remarkably beguiled.

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

words crack open

11222290_984170634937669_128032116415427820_n

Photo by Keith R. Good

words crack open

some willingly
spilling

some win-
some
some wince-
some

some pester
and fester

some swoon
in moonlit sky

and wonder
why
she’s deaf

to their cry

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

HOW IT ENDED (fable)

539894_462535920434479_376403441_n

Photo by Keith R. Good

 

“We’re all doomed!” wailed baboon.
“Now, says who?” asked the shrew.
“It’s a lie!” declared fly.
“You buffoon!” slurred raccoon.

“Please, please, please!” pleaded bees,
“What baboon says is true!
We are dying in droves!
If we die, you will too!”

“But that’s not what MAN says,
and he’d KNOW,” shrieked the crow.
And the rest felt affirmed
While baboon’s head hung low.

“We rely on each bee,” whispered unnoticed flea.

With the flea’s voice unheard,
And the baboon, insulted
No common sense stirred,
And the poet’s voice halted.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

No Longer Under the System of Law

17862742_10154824618953600_6432886436101224129_n

Amazing grace
complete, profound.
Enslaved in sin, set free.
How great the cost
that shook the ground.
Defining love for me.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

(Inspired, of course, by John Newton’s “Amazing Grace”)

ANDREA

 

12381964

A people-person and poet,
she learned to write
in a language not her own.

Alone, and on a small Danish island,
she yearned to connect.
To greet poetic kin.

In time, she braved the barriers
of language and space,
embraced globe and all therein.

Within her lay a yearning.
A burning desire to know You.
To believe in Your existence.

But the distance seemed too far,
and far-flung stars, more personal
than the God who hung them.

How often did she ask to unmask
the key to faith in a God who hears.
Loves. Draws. Speaks.

Yet I believe. I believe You
who knew her heart from the start
ran to greet her.

Mit barn! My child!
I believe she recognized You at once,
whispered tenderly, “Min far. My Father.

Never again will language be labored,
and never again faith
a far-flung star.

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

Sadly, our Poetic Asides family lost our Danish friend, Andrea Heiberg. She died of cancer Monday. Andrea never let language get in the way of relationship, clear across the globe. Her presence will be missed by so very many.

Next Stop:  Sejer Island.
   By Andrea Heiberg

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12381964-next-stop