pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Category: 2020 Poetic Asides April Poem-a-Day Challenge

GROWING DREAMS

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Photo credit:  Keith R. Good

Wake up beautiful
Cute high heels, good for my feet
Feel pretty daily

No-pain fun workouts
Tasty food without weight gain
Flattering clothes, all

Snow with no slipping
Nightly beach stroll with no bugs
Flowers with no weeds

Warmth with no sweating
Nice chill with no shivering
Charcoal clouds with sun

Endless connections
Continuous potential
World with no borders

Love without judgement
Hard truths spread with soft edges
Loved. No exceptions.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

ANTI-SESTINA

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I will not write Sestinas, sir.
It’s not the form that I prefer.
See, when I try, my brain won’t purr.
It spits and chokes. My mind’s a blur.
I will not write for him, or her.
I will not write Sestinas, sir.

And you’d be right if you infer
I will not write Sestinas, sir.
To navigate me through, for sure
I’d have to have a good chauffer.
Or wine or beer or hard liquor.
But I don’t drink, so then I’d slur.

I will not write Sestinas, sir.
To your insistence, I demur.
My mind is striking, as it were.
I’m not a poetry poseur.
To Walt Wojtanik, I’ll defer –
Our chief Sestina Whisperer.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

OUR PRESENT DAY TWISTER

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“If I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with.” ~ Dorothy Gal

The tempest we face today blows me away. It has twisted our world and what we chase.

As we shelter in place, the view from space shows a cleansing of the air we share. Sweet messages and charming drawings in chalk fill each walk, drive, and trail. Mailed letters are back “in” as they’ve not been in decades. Roller blades, bikes, and hikes, and sharing while distancing …

We are witnessing a change, as we rearrange the life we’d learned to expect. Soon we’ll reflect on the effect staying at home had on us. On our planet. And just as we began it, we’ll be back to activities with the liberties that define us.

I pray when we are no longer confined, we’ll continue to align with the gentler pace the shelter-in-place afforded. For we’ve been rewarded with renewed love of home and neighbor, and the favor of unexpected gifts in the midst of forced simplicity.

With misty eyes, I reflect on these affecting words from Oz. Let’s never return from what was.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

The above quote that comes near the end of the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy has returned home, has been a favorite of mine since I was a child.  I cannot voice it without choking up; cannot think of it without misty eyes.  The sentiment is heartwarming wisdom, and the wording is exceptional.  I wish I had written it.

THE WOMEN WHO WAILED

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I wish I knew who to attribute this to.

Who were these women,
walking the path with Jesus,
this innocent man?

This One who showed them
they were not to be trampled –
thought as second class.

This One who showed them
they could learn and understand
scripture, and His words.

Who were these women
who did not turn away as
He was crucified?

Exhibiting strength
in their engulfing anguish –
strength I cannot know.

Facing the horror,
these women were not silent.
They howled in their grief,

but also in their
denunciation of this
slaughter of virtue.

Inconsolable,
but not without perception,
and not without hope.

As they witnessed His
final words, were they surprised?
This man that they loved

wasn’t just a man.
Even the centurion
who observed His death

exclaimed, “Certainly
this man was the Son of God.”
My Lord, and My God.

Through their mourning eyes,
did they sense that this dear man
was their Messiah?

Forgive me, my Lord.
I would not have had the strength
to attend to You.

Lamentably, I’d
have worried, crying to You
from my peaceful home,

averse to falling
apart with the sufferer.
(Forgive me, my friends).

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

ONE (Ekphrastic)

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Love, laughter, and fun
under the same moon and sun,
for we are all one.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

#seventeenintwenty

PREDICTABLY (limerick)

Plumber plugging a hole and trying to reach a valve.

Found this fun one on Cartoon Stock.  Super fun, Tarnowski! 

When the hubby attempts do to plumbing,
I’ll hear him sporadically humming.
Then hints of some fumbling
bring mumbling and grumbling.
That’s when I know cursing’s forthcoming.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

PLACED IN A TIME SUCH AS THIS

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Ohio Department of Health Director, Dr. Amy Acton (thankful for her)

I don’t believe in fluke of fate.
No, we were slated for this time.
But as we climb this curve
we work to flatten as ordered
to slacken this attack,
I am looking forward
to looking back.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

TRAPPED WITH A JOKER (sing along!)

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Stuck inside these four walls.
Feels it’s been forever.
Never seeing no one
sane again. It’s true.
It’s just you. Crazy you.

Will we ever get out of here?
Now it’s looking like months away.
I won’t make it out sound, I fear.
All I need is a break today
From your dad jokes and puns, my dear.
Hush and hand me those Tums, my dear.

Well, my mind exploded with a mighty crash
As he told another pun.
And it’s clear that he’s entertaining himself,
And I hope he’s having fun.

Man with a pun. Man with a pun.
And I’m stuck inside, nowhere to hide.
Oh, save me please, someone
From this man with a pun.
Man with a pun.
Man with a pun.
I am so done.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

Just kidding, guys! Actually LOVING being stuck with my funny/punny hubby!

Took this from Band on The Run, and ran with it.

Pardon? Maybe I Need Hearing Aids.

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Photo courtesy of Pixabay

Which wish is which?
Witch wish is which?
Which witches swish?
Which swishes which?
Which wishes switch?
Which wishes swish?

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

Not much of a poem, but lots of fun to write!

FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD

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It wasn’t a twister,
but a whirlwind of words
that whisked me away,
introduced my would-be Dorothy
to this would-be Scarecrow
who blows me away
with his way with words,
as very few can.
Our story began across a lake
and make no mistake,
he’s my partner in rhyme.
He believes he’s no longer
in his prime,
but I’ll tell you this (and you’d agree)
that his prolific poetry
has no specific begin and end time.
And moreover, he’ll turnover
every tune or turn of phrase
to raise the bar.
He’s the pace car.
And he will always be
the poetry man,
to me.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020