pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Category: Poetic Bloomings

TOO LATE (a waltmarie)

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com
I ignored your advances. I made you beg my
pardon,
while you strained to gain my affection …
but I 
couldn’t encourage candor. No, not when you
meant to
lead me to altars and vows, and expected to hear me 
say I 
do, while my panic clearly cried I don’t
love you.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

Inner poem reads:

pardon,
but I
meant to
say I 
love you

(Disclaimer:  While most of my poems are based on my life and thoughts, this one is completely fabricated.)

LIFE

Photo by Keith R. Good

Sometimes we don’t see
past the beauty in focus.
Sometimes life holds life.


#seventeenintwentytwo

17 syllables written on freedom

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

Never “not now,” I
curl into the lap of the
One who answers prayer.

#seventeenintwentytwo

For me, this is the hands-down greatest freedom of all. 

REDUCED

She drips eloquence,
but her needs, desires, and core
are not free to speak.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

#seventeenintwentytwo

GARDEN SONG (a waltmarie)

Photo by Marie Elena Good
A Buffalo poet and I have never met, yet
we tend
a common garden of unlocked gate, with
poets
we welcome as friends we’ve also never met
who plant
pretty poesies of love and life -- friends who share
themselves
with verses that enrich the song  
in us.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

#waltmarie

This is a little tribute to Walt Wojtanik of Buffalo and the poets who frequent the poetry site we share, called Poetic Bloomings.

The form used (waltmarie) was created by Candace Kubinec, and featured on the Writer's Digest. 

Here are the guidelines for writing the Waltmarie:

-10 lines

-Even lines are two syllables in length, odd lines are longer (no specific syllable count)

-Even lines make their own mini-poem if read separately

HOLY WEEK

Photo by Vanderlei Longo on Pexels.com

The week leading up
to the most sacred of our
Christian holidays

looks back on events
saturated with the love
of our Lord Jesus,

impregnated with
prophesies being fulfilled
in His light and life:

Some, miraculous.
Some, endearing.  Some, baffling.
Others, horrific.

A dizzying week.
A hill of execution.
A crucifixion.

But 

I believe that the
road to Golgotha began
in a feeding trough

where a virgin girl
gave birth to a baby boy
who already knew

the way.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

He is risen, indeed!

LIFE, COMPOSED IN THREE PARTS

Photo by Keith R. Good
Part 1. LEGATO

Since love and laughter
sang the notes to her childhood,
she tuned in to life.

She felt melodic,
harmonious, and ready
to embrace her song.

Part 2. ARPEGGIO

A child bride’s ballad,
meant to mirror her childhood,
ends in broken chords.

A sharp turn taken,
her imposed solo becomes
a balanced duet

as her new partner
discards the shards, and the two
play in consonance. 

Her children (her heart),
born improvisers, still long
to dance their own dance.

Part 3. CODA 

Moons rose and set. Her
parents grew sickly; her song
became elegy.

Still, her partner hums
his strength, and her Composer 
breathes psalms in her lungs.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

My Years of Teaching

Water for Ishmael American Schools wall banner, painted by Andrea Price

There are the teachers
equipped with knowledge, and the
skills to impart it

There are the teachers
with a passion for learning
that is contagious.

There are the teachers
who delight in (and well-wield)
books, maps, and whiteboards.

I am gifted with
none of that. But I love, and
love assists learning.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

FIRST, DO NO HARM

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com
I’m itchin’ to upgrade, and pitchin’ a fit.
For now, I’m afraid, I have zilch to submit.
While someone is flippin’ through pages of verse,
I want my name there before I’m in a hearse.
It’s paltry and petty, this dream I’ve unfurled. 
But?
Improvin’ at versin’ can’t worsen the world.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

OPEN MINDED

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

I am of the age
where knocks at the door did not
need to be scheduled.

This was a time when
hospitality welcomed
spontaneity.

A time when one was
made to feel valuable –
greeted with a smile

and a hand gesture
first ushering you in, then
offering a seat.

I wish I could say
that is a custom I still
embrace. But it’s not.

Feeling unprepared
makes me uneasy, and it
seeps right through my smile.

I hope to become
genuinely embracing
of a friendly knock –

to swing wide the door –
no thought of untidiness;
no eye on the time.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022