pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Category: Poetic Bloomings

FOR SOPHIE AND IZZY (our Rosie and Bean)

Four little loved feet lived a few feet away
‘Til they moved to St. Thomas’s lush Caret Bay.
Abruptly, an ocean and 2,000 miles
Created a chasm, and dampened our smiles.

But then they moved closer (no ocean to cross)
And the far-fewer miles seemed less of a loss.
“It’s all relative,” as the old saying goes,
But oh how we still miss our Bean and our Rose.

Now all of a sudden, life’s changing again!
We’re all looking forward to Saturday, when
Four little loved feet can stay put and not roam:
Our Sophie and Izzy are coming back home!

It’s hard to believe it’s been only one year
Since we said our goodbyes, and we choked back our tears.
Here’s move number three in a rather short time –
Returning our smiles, and ending this rhyme.  😉

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

MY INTERVIEW WITH DARLENE FRANKLIN

1560521_10203475159614466_6647038950039089686_n

COME MEET WELL-PUBLISHED AUTHOR OF CHRISTIAN LITERATURE, DARLENE FRANKLIN!

Interview may be found HERE.

WISTFULLY CONVINCED

spoon-3926924_640

Helps the medicine go down.

“Imagination is the true magic carpet.”  ~Norman Vincent Peale

I. JASMINE AND MARY

One flies on carpet.
The other, her umbrella.
Both take me with them.

II. UNCLE ALBERT

Sometimes I believe
if I laugh hard enough, I’ll
float to the ceiling.

III. DOROTHY

Don’t be surprised to
witness me clicking my heels
when I get homesick.

IV. BASTIAN

See, books are more real
than our realest lives, and “nothing”
can take that away.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

 

 

THE DEARLY DEPARTIED

technology-3200401_640

 

There once was a gal named Marie
Whose good friends and fam would agree
If she’s uninvited,
She’s just as delighted
To stay home and drink her hot tea.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

WHEN THE PURPOSE OF KNEES WAS TO BE SKINNED

61376877_10156663268568600_7855837626421477376_n

Splinters were the worst.
Tweezers first;
Needles if needed
While I screamed and squirmed
And wormed my way
Back out to play.

Skipping, flipping
Chipping my tooth
(Now it’th loothe)
Palms muddied
Bloodied nose drips
Split lips
Both knees shredded
Splinter still embedded.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

Inspired by the line “when the purpose of knees was to be skinned,” from John Tobias’ Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle Received from a Friend Called Felicity
(Thanks to my friend Lydia, who gifted me the book that contains John’s poem!)

MY SOPHIA ROSE

At the age of seven, Sophie built a hand bouquet for me, a few items at a time. When it was complete, I told her how beautiful it was. The short conversation that ensued may not exactly be a poem, but it is sheer poetry to me, and will reside in my heart forever:

It’s complete? It’s beautiful, Sophie. Thank you!

         It’s your personality, Nonna.

This bouquet is my personality? What do you mean? What would you say is my personality?

        Eternal happiness and love for everyone.

Oh, Sophie … that is so sweet. Thank you! And what would you say is YOUR personality?

        I’m love, too. And care for everyone, everywhere.

Light emanating
from an unsullied child’s heart
sparks a better us.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

Sentimental Longing

59793894_10156627929508600_539407601289396224_n

nos·tal·gia  /näˈstaljə,nəˈstaljə/   – noun.
A
sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations.

I’d say that everyone looks back on their childhood fondly.
But the unfortunate truth is that is unfortunately untrue,
and that unfortunate truth means I was truly fortunate.
In spite of that wording being almost comically convoluted,
it is written through tears of genuine gratitude.

My parents were simple and loving.
They infused me with a love for simple things. 
Perhaps it was the times.  Just the way life was.

But I don’t think so.
I think if they were to start over,

this time would be no different. 
Family would still be priority.
There would still be no such thing as coming home
to an empty house.

Music would still fill the soul.
All my love, and love me always would still grace every note
in every house we call home.
I love you.  You know that.
Yes Mom.  I do know that.  You lived it every day,
even when Alzheimer’s threatened to erase us
like chalk on a board,
leaving only ghostly swipes.

Longing to return to childhood
for one more day. One more hug.
One more chance to watch Mighty Mouse
T-boned on the floor with Dad,
my head using his tummy as a pillow.
One more turn to curl up in Mom’s lap,
rocked in the very chair that now sits across from me
as I write this poem, longing to hear her voice.
“I love you.  You know that.” 

© Marie Elena, 2019

27657619_10155628101688600_6004715281279615069_n

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  I miss your beautiful face and gentle love.

Two Catena Rondo for Two

59323830_2204494796507435_5594137036945620992_n

1. SOPHIA ROSE

This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.
Her baby days just sadly up and went.
He says he loves her eighty one percent.
This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.

Her baby days just sadly up and went.
Her daddy says he’s losing all his hair.
There’s no way for a daddy to prepare.
Her baby days just sadly up and went.

Her daddy says he’s losing all his hair.
This eighty-one-percent kid’s just too cute.
The two of them together are a hoot.
Her daddy says he’s losing all his hair.

This eighty-one-percent kid’s just too cute.
He’s also sweet, so Sophie’s got good taste,
But baby years have too soon been erased.
This eighty-one-percent kid’s just too cute.

He’s also sweet, so Sophie’s got good taste.
This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.
There’re others, too, but he’s the real McCoy.
He’s also sweet, so Sophie’s got good taste.

This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.
Her baby days just sadly up and went.
He says he loves her eighty one percent.
This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

 
2. ISADORA KATHLEEN

And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.
She picked her future husband years ago.
He’s dutiful, and she’s a dynamo.
And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.

She picked her future husband years ago,
When binks and naptimes were a part of life.
And (dutifully), he chose her for his wife.
She picked her future husband years ago.

When binks and naptimes were a part of life,
Those pint-sized wheels were spinning in her head.
Who knew the ploys and schemes that lay ahead,
When binks and naptimes were a part of life.

Those pint-sized wheels were spinning in her head.
And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.
I wonder how her daddy will survive
Those pint-sized wheels still spinning in her head.

And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.
She picked her future husband years ago.
He’s dutiful, and she’s a dynamo.
And n there’s little Izzy, just turned five.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

God help us, lol! 

MILKY WAY

milky-way-2695569_1280

In last night’s sky
I saw hundreds of stars
above me,
and I remembered
Michigan’s night sky,
when you and I stood
beneath not hundreds
but billions
or trillions
and I wished
I could take them home.

In last night’s sky
I saw hundreds of stars
above me.
Today, not even one.
Not even the sun.

But now?
Now, I know they are here –

billions
and trillions
and even the sun,
and even when I see
not even one.

And I see no need
to take them home,

for now I see
they are my home.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

MY INTERVIEW WITH RYAN K. RUSSELL

Processed with VSCO with b1 preset

 

COME READ OUR INTERVIEW AT POETIC BLOOMINGS, HERE:

INTERVIEW