pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Category: Poetic Bloomings

MORNING’S OPEN WINDOW CALLS

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Photo by Keith R. Good

I see and hear the birds, the deer,
the kids that play across the way.
I feel the breeze, and watch the trees react,
and I make eye contact with Chickadee.
I smile as he rests on my sill.
Then I refill my coffee mug,
sit snug and still and know
the golden glow of morning sun,
and glorious One who made it rise
and harmonize with all I see
outside my window;
inside me.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

YESTERDAYS (Father’s Day 2020 Sonnet for my Dad)

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Just one more chance to hear your drum set swing,
And feel the pride well up inside my core.
And I believe I’d give most anything
To watch as you conduct a band once more.

To hear you call Mom Sweet Pea one more time,
And see the love for her in aging eyes
That cleaved to days of youth, well past their prime,
Embracing the enchantment love implies.

From time to time, I feel as though you’re near.
I sometimes hear your words play through my mind.
Oh how I’d love to linger for a year
While you are here, and death is left behind.

Though we may try to hold what fades away,
Our yesterdays were never meant to stay.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

UNTITLED

OIP

“They call me Mr. Tibbs.”  ~ Virgil Tibbs, In the Heat of the Night

It’s 1967. I’m 9 years old. My dad is explaining the gist of a movie I am not allowed to see. I don’t want to see the movie.  More than that, I don’t want to see the nightly news.

It’s 2020. My granddaughter is 9 years old.  As in ’67, I don’t want to see the news.  Yet, there is a difference in the images this time:  Many protesters and police officers are wearing masks, attempting to protect those they see, from a virus they can’t.

The Long Hot Summer
of Nineteen Sixty Seven
begs us take a knee.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

2020 VISION

architecture art clouds landmark

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In my imagination,
I see the eyes of a nation
opening
focusing
noticing
seeing each human being,
and agreeing their wellbeing
gives meaning to our own
as we bemoan our past
and hold steadfast
to our bloodstream’s dreams
of fairness for all
that made landfall
in 2020  –
not for the goal of the many,
but the whole of humanity.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

voice

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Image courtesy of Pixabay

in need to be heard,
he sings. flies.  calls. cries.  songbird –
winged and otherwise.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

A Memorial Day untitled senryu


His Navy Dress Blues

displayed on the bed, look like
he was ten years old.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

SIGNIFIC’ANT

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Image courtesy of Prawny at Pixabay

At the top of the slide, she screams.
(As in chillingly nightmarish dreams.)
And it’s all justified:
There’s an ant on the slide,
So she’s coming apart at the seams.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

AWAITING WATERSHEDS 

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Photo by Keith R. Good

Every crisis in my life
has left expected tinges
I wish were erasable,
but also unforeseen traces
of the embraceable.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

MY SPIRIT’S SONG (a poem with wrapped refrains)

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Image by Colin Behrens, courtesy of Pixabay 

I’ve often said it is no toss
‘tween loss of sight or hearing loss.
for music is to me as bread.
It feeds my soul, I’ve often said.

My heart beats to a melody –
a bond abiding breathlessly
as harmonies are coursing through,
in tune with what my heart beats to.

And I believe when angels sing,
our parched earth sips from worship’s spring
to praise a God we can’t conceive.
They catch my ear, and I believe.

It need not be a “worship song”
to lift my eyes and make me long
to sit upon my Father’s knee,
and see my worries need not be.

Should I not hear jazz beat of drum,
or soothing sound from cello’s strum –
Good Father, hearer of my prayer,
please sing to me, should I not hear.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

 

 

 

 

 

RELATIONSHIP

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This is an age of unbroken connection.
Our fingertips tap into instant links.
We’ve little tolerance for imperfection,
And as our ego grows, our goodwill shrinks.

And in this age of unbroken connection,
Our face-to-face relationships have waned.
Resulting loss of physical affection
May render us emotionally maimed.

Now suddenly a time of social distance
Is thrust upon us necessarily.
Most look for ways to be of some assistance,
And find these ways, extraordinarily.

I’m thankful in this time of social distance
For God, who binds my drifting heart to His.
Our Father God pursues us with persistence.
Be still, and let Him show you who He is.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

Quick note: My last three lines include words and truths from scripture, and from a long-loved hymn, as follows:

“Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” by Robert Robinson includes the phrase of prayer, “Bind my wandering heart to thee.”

The Bible overflows with God’s pursuit of us, including Psalm 139.

Psalm 46:10 tells us, “Be still, and know that I am God.”