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
pictured words
a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
Category: July P.E.O.D, 2019
July 31, 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
July 13, 2019
SATURDAY NIGHTS
Found photo at blog of James Wallace Harris
When I was just a little girl,
I’d whimper in my room.
I’d plug my ears, hold back the tears,
And fight the dread of doom.
With covers pulled up to my eyes,
I’d suffocate my scream.
What once-a-week would make me freak?
The Perry Mason theme!
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
I WAS SUCH A WIMP! Still am. 😉
July 11, 2019
CUBS IN MY TUB
“BEAR IN THERE” POEM AND ILLUSTRATION BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN
For Poetic Blooming’s prompt to write a poem reflecting the poet I wish I was.
I adore everything Silverstein! He inspires me to write for children, but oh to write like he does! My poem entitled “Cubs in My Tub” was inspired by Mr. Silverstein’s “Bear in There.”
CUBS IN MY TUB (by Marie Elena Good)
There are cubs in my tub
So I gave them my scrubby
To sponge off the grunge
That was left by my hubby.
But now, misbehaving,
They’re splashing, and shaving
(With hubby’s new blade!)
And now clearly a maid and a plumber
Would be laborsaving.
I opened the fridge to find Poppa bear there,
And I asked him to come get his cubs.
I was nervous (a smidge),
But then out from the fridge came
-Their poppa
-Their momma
-My hubs!
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
July 9, 2019
DEAR MOM AND DAD,
Dear Mom and Dad,
Having devoted grandparents made my childhood something special. Holidays were spectacular, with wall-to-wall cousins and outstanding meals — Irish on one side; Italian on the other. Summertime meant choosing a cousin to spend a few nights at Grandma and Grandpa’s. I suppose you probably knew, but we were kind of given free reign, and ice cream and nonpareils rained freely. Those were fun years of my life. I miss the years, and I miss my grandparents.
I don’t miss them like my kids miss you. We didn’t have the special closeness my kids had with you … the kind where they weren’t sure they could ever live without you. The kind where they spent their lives fearing the inevitable. The kind that took special grace from God to go on in the wake of losing you both within 35 days of each other. The kind that begs, “Just one more day. Just one more conversation. Just one more hug.” The kind that made their lives richer for the living, a bit shattered in the leaving, and grateful for every shared moment.
A love worth the loss.
This is who I want to be
To my granddaughters.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
pictured words 