pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Category: Poetic Bloomings

May 31, 2026

Dispirited

Photo by Tuu011fba on Pexels.com

DISPIRITED

Darkness descended
within and without.
No glint of joy.
No moon to spill soft light.

Margins blurred between night and heart
as she sat silently,
giving no voice to the shadows within.

He held her silence,
and built her a fire in the hearth.

Her eyes fixed on the flames,
as if her only solace.
He tended the fire long into the night,
until the final log was nearly consumed.

He then rose from his rocker,
split it,
and kept the flames alive.

© Marie Elena Good, 2012 (reworked in 2026)

This expresses a true event of an evening during one of my daughter’s darkest seasons and her rien remarkable act of sensitive selflessness.

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May 24, 2026

Predicament

Predicament

There once was a gal named Marie
A head of brunette curls had she.
Then some became white
and, what seemed overnight,
she saw scalp where some curls used to be!

© Marie Elena Good 2026

For today’s pictured words post, you’ll have to picture it. 😉

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May 17, 2026

Through My Window

Through My Windows

 Antique

Old lamp’s prisms
reveal rainbows
and remembrances.


Night Light

Night’s lesser light
strikes snow’s pure white.
My bedroom awakens.


Senses

slender window
flaunts lilacs,
draws scent

© Marie Elena Good 2026

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May 10, 2026

Two Poems for Mother’s Day

The Mother of Alzheimer’s

Who birthed (unearthed)
This unwelcome invasion,
Or gave it the right
To hijack each occasion
Meant to endure and assure her
She’s loved. She belongs.

It ceaselessly wrongs her,
Assassinates her senses;
Condenses her being
To fleeting moments,
Thought amputation,
Self dislocation,
And few kin.

And it will win.

© Marie Elena Good, 2016


Mom’s Passing (2018)

She began speaking
of needing to get ready
for the bus (taxi?)

that would very soon
be arriving to take her.
If she knew where to,

she didn’t tell us.
Such questions were hard for her,
so we wouldn’t ask.

We’d just pack for her,
had she asked us to do so.
For years she couldn’t.

She couldn’t decide
what to take, or what to leave.
Empty her closet.

Sleep in the guest room,
as her bed was filled with clothes
she would take nowhere.

Now she couldn’t leave.
Couldn’t get up from her bed.
She didn’t know that.

She didn’t know that
she was on hospice care now.
She didn’t know that

her last fall would be
what interrupts this disease,
and its progression.

That it would still win,
but wouldn’t finish the race.
So she would win, too.

… and the “slow goodbye”
ended in twenty eighteen,
when she journeyed on.

© Marie Elena Good 2026

3 Comments
April 26, 2026

What Do I See?

Photo by Isaac Quesada on Pexels.com

I look out my window,
and what do I see?
Two squirrels playing tag
in a big maple tree.

I look out my window,
and what do I see?
A face in a cloud
with a funny goatee.

I look out my window,
and what do I see?
My mom’s picnic table
and pitcher of tea.

I look out my window,
and what do I see?
The wind left a space
where my shoes used to be!

I look out my window,
and what do I see?
I see Bigfoot’s footprints!
(You might disagree.)

I look out my window
and what do I see?
Our bee balm is blooming,
and see? There’s a bee!

I look out my window,
and what do I see?
I see the black cap
of a cute chickadee.

I look out my window,
and what do I see?
I see squirrels, trees, and bees,
and a pitcher of tea.
I see funny cloud shapes,
and a cute chickadee.
I see bee balm and Bigfoot.
(You’ll still disagree.)

(But in all of my views,
I don’t see my new shoes.)

I look out my window,
what more do I see?
I reliably see
a reflection of me.

© Marie Elena Good 2026

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April 19, 2026

Of Haiku and Children’s Stories

Photo by http://www.kaboompics.com on Pexels.com
Of Haiku and Children’s Stories

once upon a time
and five-syllable launches:
openings I trust

© Marie Elena Good 2026
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April 6, 2026

Favorite Color

Photo by Lucas George Wendt on Pexels.com

You know how people sometimes ask what your favorite color is?  It has always been so hard for me to give a firm, convincing response.  The green outdoors is so life-giving that I love to bring it inside.  And when I wear it, it makes my eyes look pretty green.  Soft, watery blue is lovely and restful.  YlnMn blue is the most magnificent color I have ever laid eyes on.  It is even better than royal or cobalt. Lemony yellow is cheerful and bright.  My husband likes it when I wear red, though I don’t own much.  Gray is fantastic for making any imaginable color near it pop.  Being my favorite season and bringing welcome childhood memories, autumn colors warm my heart. But it wasn’t until this weekend that I suddenly realized I do have an absolute favorite.

Spring’s first buds and blooms.
Snowfall.  Fresh sheet of paper.
Purity and peace.

© Marie Elena Good 2026


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April 5, 2026

EASTER COLORS (three 5/7/5 poems)

1.
The Color of Redemption

I can’t bear to think
of His beautiful dark skin
ripped down to muscle.

2.
Lapis Lazuli

More precious than gold,
this deep blue embodies the
Mother of Jesus.

3.
Holy Reflection

Only light as pure
as reflects from God’s own Son
can mirror His love.

© Marie Elena Good 2026

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March 30, 2026

Self-Portrait in Syllables

silver splatters on
dark construction-paper hair
of pulled ribbon curls
with eraser-rubbed 
quarter-sized patch of almond
alopecia

now-sparce arches frame
uneven eyes colored with
loosely held crayon
trying to capture
the green for which there is no
Crayola pigment

but a fine black pen
and a steady hand capture
right-eye’s lopsided 
cat-pupil-like shape:
a visual reminder
of eye surgery

thinner,  aging lips
colored deep red. tempted to 
draw outside the lines,
but she won’t bother
because a genuine smile
makes up for the lack
 
Sfumato technique?
No. Since this is her portrait,
she faces herself.

© Marie Elena Good 2026

(Sfumato is a technique for softening and blending.)
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March 8, 2026

Connecting Neighbor with Neighbour

Photo by Griffin Wooldridge on Pexels.com


Connecting Neighbor with Neighbour

Completed in 1929, the remarkable Ambassador Bridge over the Detroit River is about a one-and-a-half-mile suspension bridge that connects the U.S.A.’s Detroit, Michigan with Canada’s Windsor, Ontario. Being likely the most unobservant person you’ve ever (or maybe never) met, it amazes me that I’ve never found myself unintentionally on the entrance ramp. I’d have approximately 7500 feet to contemplate how to handle my situation upon arrival.  My chances of being prepared, dignified, and self-assured are nearly nada.

“Hi!  Give me a hug!
Finally, we meet! And me,
without my passport.”

© Marie Elena Good 2026

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