Poetic Bloomings | pictured words

SURRENDER

S*U*R*R*E*N*D*E*R

Me, a young girl in
a whirlwind of sudden change.
Strange new surroundings.

Unsure what is real,
or who, in this new-to-me
space, can be trusted:

One who stands rusted;
one too timid to answer;
and you, straw dancer.

They win me over
(especially you), and they
chauffeur me to Oz

because, because, be-
cause, because – because they’re there,
and they care. Deeply.

Green skin. Broom. Smoke. Threats.
And me, tricked. I lost my friends
when I clicked my heels.

But to my surprise,
I see you in these eyes I’ve
always known, at home.

2 Comments

The Heart of Golgotha

“And heaven’s peace and perfect justice kissed a guilty world with love.” ~ Dyma gariad fel y moroedd

The Heart of Golgotha

Before He stepped foot,
He knew the path: Golgotha,
“the place of a skull.”

He knew it, for He
had formed it. Created it
with God His Father.

Before carrying
the crossbeam on this long path,
He created it

before man became;
before woman, born of man,
bore The Son of Man;

before the first sin
had ever been committed,
or life led to death,

and before you were
formed in your own mother’s womb,
He knew you, and He

chose you, and He chose
the horrific path He’d walk
and death He’d conquer.

It was a matter
of turning your face to Him;
of loving you first.

It was a matter
of bonding your heart to His,
for eternity.

© Marie Elena Good, 2025

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” ~ John 15:13

2 Comments

April 13, 2025

As I Stop at the Light

As I Stop at the Light

She, with little to her name, fumbles a moment in her purse, rolls down her window, and hands money to the man with the sign she can’t read. He thanks her, and says, “God bless you.” All she understands is his smile, which she returns with a nod of her head. She rolls up her window. I place my hand on her shoulder. She smiles at me, and I at her.

And how could I have
immediately known her,
if not for the light.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

1 Comment

April 12, 2025

Untitled angst

If not for nations
coming to my own doorstep,
I’d never know them.

I’d never have seen
they’re here to feed me the food
that comforts their souls.

I’d never have seen
they’re here to make my home both
strong and welcoming.

They’re here to make us
kinder. Gentler. Here to make
their own lives better,

but also the lives
of all those who welcomed them,
and those who didn’t.

I want to save them
from the strangling hands of this
administration.

If not for Donald,
would Vance, Rubio, Musk, Noem,
and all the others

be so emboldened
to heartless vindictiveness
and mercilessness?

If not for clear signs
from history (you know which),
one might never know.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

April 6, 2025

Untitled haibun-like firehose

this not a trickle but a wide-open firehose that is not meant to douse flames but to disorient the American people leaving us reeling feeling discounted disregarded overlooked overwhelmed overpowered and overthrown (overthrown?) unquestionably and categorically overthrown and now so unrecognizable my country looks far more distorted than even what I see through my wrinkled retina and make no mistake this firehose is intentional gish gallop in its inundation and devastation and

How can one stall a
strategic tsunami with
a spoon and a sponge?

2 Comments

March 23, 2025

I am

“I am”

It is a small book –
just seventy-five pages
cover to cover.

As the pages turn,
the voices of brave women
speak in harmony

using a language
they did not grow up speaking;
now trying to learn.

Here, they’ve been given
the opportunity to
escape grave danger.

Their stories speak of
the safety afforded them
here in the U.S.

They came here via
invitation. Legally.
and “through the front door.”

And though they miss home,
they “know” they are safe. Some for
the very first time

in their entire life.
They enrich our lives with their
smiles and love.

They pay their taxes.
They obey our laws. They are
happy to be here.

But there is a “but.”
The safety they felt sure of
when they wrote, “I am”

swiftly disappeared.
From one semester of school
to the next, it’s gone.

The front door has slammed.
Families are being shoved
out through the back door.

Insecurity
is gripping them once again.
We’ve become lawless.

They’ve become victims
of we who invited them,
then pointed fingers

shouted “criminal!”
and decided they are a
danger to our lives.

We have no reason.
They have no recourse.

March 16, 2025

Eye of the Beholder

Eye of the Beholder

Some of the most
physically gorgeous
sincere
generous
intelligent
strongest
kindest women I know —
women I have the privilege of loving
and being loved by —

scream.

Not with their voices

but with their color
covering
accent
mother tongue.

They scream,
Foreigner!
Criminal!
Unsafe!
Unwelcome!

The beautiful truths in their hearts
are misperceived.
They are viewed as ugly lies
in the eyes of the listeners
who hear only what they are told
to hear.

If only you knew them.
If only you were willing
to spend time
communicating
communing
sharing food
exchanging smiles
searching their eyes
tracing their hearts
experiencing their generosity,

your hate and fear would
shut up
shut down.

Your heart and home would
open
expand
make way.

You would hear not screams, but
intelligent ideas
endearing emotions
liberal benevolence
soothing sentiments

and you would do anything in your power
to protect their lives and their hearts,
and protect your relationship with them.

4 Comments

March 9, 2025

Maternal Strength (Mother of Exiles)

Maternal Strength (Mother of Exiles)

Her light, once shining full and bright,
now dim from weeks-long dark of night.
Her eyes glimpse loss of prized allies.
Tear-flooded eyes say their goodbyes
to those once-welcomed, now in throes
of deportation, unopposed.

“Rise up!” She pleads, “to stop this man
who’s changed our core in six-weeks’ span.”
Maternal strength with nurturing spirit,
sing your welcome! Let us hear it!
Shine bright your lamp and wail your plea,
“Send poor and tempest-tossed to me!”

Title and final line of course inspired by The New Colossus, by American poet Emma Lazarus

2 Comments

March 2, 2025

In Like a Lion. Out Like a Lamb. (2 poems)

In Like a Lion

An apex predator vying for position,
he dons an illegitimate crown
and struts it
around the world stage.

He marks his territory
leaving a stench —
his pride
sniffing rank.

He joins forces with males
who also relish the roar —
none of whom have reached
maturity.

Out Like a Lamb (Found in God’s word)

And he said, “Behold
the Lamb of God – He who takes
away the world’s sins.” ~ John, the baptist

“… for I am gentle
and lowly in heart, and you’ll
find rest for your souls.” ~ Jesus, the Christ

“Like a lamb that is
led to the slaughter – so He
opened not His mouth —

Though He had done no
violence, and there was no
deceit in His mouth.” ~ Isaiah, the prophet

2 Comments

pictured words

Category: Poetic Bloomings

May 4, 2025

SURRENDER

Image | April 27, 2025

April 20, 2025

The Heart of Golgotha

April 13, 2025

As I Stop at the Light

April 12, 2025

Untitled angst

April 6, 2025

Untitled haibun-like firehose

March 23, 2025

I am

March 16, 2025

Eye of the Beholder

March 9, 2025

Maternal Strength (Mother of Exiles)

March 2, 2025

In Like a Lion. Out Like a Lamb. (2 poems)