Poetic Bloomings | pictured words

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.

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.

Anything.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

4 Comments

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)

AI generated image

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

February 16, 2025

New Neighbors

New Neighbors

It’s dark. I see the lit porchlight across the street. A glow shines from inside the home. For several years, there were no lights. It seemed no one lived there, but I knew better. The house used to be graced with a family. Then, only the man remained. He seldom came and went. When darkness fell, the house disappeared.

There’s something about
how the light warms the snow, and
how love warms the house.

1 Comment

February 9, 2025

TWENTY TWENTY FIVE

Twenty Twenty Five

My year’s focus word
is listen. I chose it, not
knowing what’s to come.

The last twenty days,
I see myself shouting on
social media.

The need to be heard
in daunting times is real, but
shouting gets tuned out,

so is left unheard.
And yet, the need is still there.
I can’t help but shout.

The last twenty days,
my listening turned to an
Intense need to scream.

I don’t scream outdoors
out of respect and care for
all of my neighbors.

I don’t scream indoors
for fear of terrifying
my loving husband.

I scream inside me,
silently, lest I drown out
my God’s still, small voice.

© Marie Elena Good, 2025

5 Comments

February 2, 2025

Call Me Home

Call Me Home

She’s lived with me twenty-four years now.
She loves me.
She appreciates how cheerful I am,
no matter what is happening in her life.
Even those who visit us feel my sunny spirit.
No matter her day,
I know how to make her relax.

Her gait has slowed
more than she likely realizes.
I hear and feel her shuffle
across my hardwood floors.
Sometimes she seems to catch herself, and
picks up her feet a while.
The shuffle returns.
It always returns.

More and more, I hear

pauses

as she searchers for a lost word.
She often discovers the first letter,
but can’t retrieve the remainder.
Then sometimes I’ll hear, “All gone.”
Just like her mother used to say.

My post stands at the bottom
of the steps leading to the basement.
It bears my weight,
and the weight of her worry.
Might she or someone she loves
fall and hit their head on my post?
What are the chances of survival?

I hear her and her husband
as they contemplate their future with me.
Perhaps make my guest bedroom
a half-bath and laundry —
eliminate the need for stairs.
But it’s a part of me she admires
just as I am.

She’s lived with me twenty-four years now,
and hopes for twenty-four more.
Maybe her husband and I can make that happen.
I know he’d be on board with it.
She and I are a good team,
making him more cheerful and relaxed, too.

© Marie Elena Good, 2025

1 Comment

January 26, 2025

I PACE, AS I FACE MY GOD

I PACE, AS I FACE MY GOD

Lamenting. Praying for His intervention. Seeking Him through tears that feel like they could flood my floor. I contemplate how my Jesus, co-Creator and sovereign over all of it, describes Himself as “gentle and lowly of heart.” It’s not part of who He is, it is who He is. Gentle and lowly is His driving force. It is the force behind His strength. It is His very being. I pray this for my country. I beg this for my country. May our heartbeat become gentle. Lowly. May this be our strength, who we are, and how we are known.

One man. One moment.
Hearts ruptured. Lives imperiled.
One swipe of a pen.

2 Comments

January 19, 2025

COMFORT FOOD

Aunt Dora (these were the good ole days)

COMFORT FOOD

Mom’s homemade pizza
and cinnamon rolls that she
made with extra dough

and her homemade pies
and cinnamon rolls made with
extra pie crust dough

chicken paprikash
rich with a sour cream gravy,
served with dinner rolls

stuffed green peppers, or
Italian sausage sandwich
with onion, pepper,

and mayo on a
bun, served with potato chips,
onion dip, and pop

oil-popped popcorn, made
on the stove in Dad’s old pot,
buttered and salted

Aunt Shirley’s cheese ball
Aunt Peg’s roast beef with gravy
and all the fixin’s

and her to-die-for
apple dumplings covered with
hard vanilla sauce

Grandpa Dunn’s bacon
Grandma’s pancakes swimming in
real maple syrup

Toast, and tea served in
my teapot from Grandma Dunn
when I was unwell

All that came out of
Aunt Dora’s basement kitchen
that begged us, “sit down.”

Aunt Judy’s version
of Aunt Dora’s sauce, which she
claimed was never right 😉

homegrown tomato-
spaghetti sauce with meatballs
that simmered all day

and was poured over
capellini (angel hair)
served with garlic bread

Grandma Marchionte’s mush
piled on a breadboard from which
we kids all chowed down

believe it or not
fried bologna sandwiches
blackened, with mustard …

But it’s what’s in the
air that most brings me comfort:
scents of memories.

January 12, 2025

SPLENDOR

SPLENDOR

An evening snow
of tiny glitter seems of
no real consequence.

Yet it’s all it takes
to blanket lawn, coat tree, and
hush and light the night –

its quiet splendor
reflecting the still, small voice
that sang its being.

© Marie Elena Good, 2025

1 Comment

pictured words

Category: Poetic Bloomings

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)

February 16, 2025

New Neighbors

February 9, 2025

TWENTY TWENTY FIVE

February 2, 2025

Call Me Home

January 26, 2025

I PACE, AS I FACE MY GOD

January 19, 2025

COMFORT FOOD

January 12, 2025

SPLENDOR