pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Category: Poetic Bloomings

November 24, 2024

Bring Something to Share

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

Bring Something to Share (Sing along!)
Disclaimer:  Just for fun. Not my family.😉 )

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
All our hearts filled with thanks to be here.

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Two party lines
Most with hearts filled with thanks to be here.

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Three basted birds
Two party lines
Many hearts filled with thanks to be here.

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Four kinds of carbs
Three basted birds
Two party lines
Many hearts filled with thanks to be here.

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:

Five
Biased
Spats

Four kinds of carbs
Three basted birds
Two party lines
Some with hearts filled with thanks to be here.

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Six guys on sofas

Five
Biased
Spats

Four kinds of carbs
Three basted birds
Two party lines
Some with hearts filled with thanks to be here.

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Seven women cleaning
Six guys on sofas

Five
Biased
Spats

Four kinds of carbs
Three basted birds
Two party lines
And still hearts filled with thanks to be here.

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Eight tipsy members
Seven women cleaning
Six guys on sofas

Five
Biased
Spats

Four kinds of carbs
Three basted birds
Two party lines
Fewer hearts filled with thanks to be here.

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Nine knock-down-drag-outs
Eight tipsy members
Seven women cleaning
Six guys on sofas

Five
Biased
Spats

Four kinds of carbs
Three basted birds
Two party lines
And some hearts wondering, why are we here?

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Ten football rivals
Nine knock-down-drag-outs
Eight tipsy members
Seven women cleaning
Six guys on sofas

Five
Biased
Spats

Four kinds of carbs
Three basted birds
Two party lines
And more hearts wondering, why are we here?

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Eleven players playing
Ten football rivals
Nine knock-down-drag-outs
Eight tipsy members
Seven women cleaning
Six guys on sofas

Five
Biased
Spats

Four kinds of carbs
Three basted birds
Two party lines
And the kids’ hearts all glad to be here.

On this day of Thanksgiving, our fam’ly brought with us:
Twelve-midnight snacking
Eleven players playing
Ten football rivals
Nine knock-down-drag-outs
Eight tipsy members
Seven women cleaning
Six guys on sofas

Five
Biased
Spats

Four kinds of carbs
Three basted birds
Two party lines

By next year, we’ll be glad to be here.

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

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November 10, 2024

AFFECT

Photo by Turgay Koca on Pexels.com

She entered my class
in purple, with her purple
phone, and purple coat.

Obviously, this
is her favorite color,
and it becomes her.

She is tall, and has
an elegance about her,
along with a wit.

But the shimmering
gold of her heart was revealed
when she used her phone’s

translator app to
say, “Teacher, if I could, I’d
give you my own eyes.”

I’m not sure what the
color of humbleness is,
nor of gratitude,

but I imagine
the shades of them reflected
in my complexion.

© Marie Elena Good 2024

This is true. Last Thursday, this lovely refugee soul entered my class, an absolute vision in purple. Due to recent surgery from a retina tear and detachment, as well as detached macula, I cannot see from my right eye. She hugged me, and then used her translator app to speak this most sincere, generous sentiment. I couldn’t hold back tears. Amazing heart.

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September 1, 2024

Untitled (lost and found prompt)

Photo by Elu012bna Aru0101ja on Pexels.com

Disoriented.
Unable to find herself
until a loved one

sat in her stillness,
not looking her in the eye
until requested

by a subtle sigh
that was released to set free
her burning to be.

© Marie Elena Good 2024

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August 25, 2024

ON MY CALENDAR

Photo by Bich Tran on Pexels.com

On My Calendar

Mondays
On Mondays we enjoy a meal
with family, and it’s ideal –
even when the food ain’t great
that sits there smirking on our plate.
The love we share is the appeal.

Tuesdays
Tuesday mornings I’m content
immersed in weekly blessed event
of breakfast with each granddaughter.
Our one-on-one constructs a cotter,
bonding hearts in time well spent.

Thursdays
My school-year Thursdays are the chance
to teach my heart the steps to dance
with women I would not have known,
and through whose cultures I have grown.
Their love is huge.  My life, enhanced.

Fridays
Each final Friday, there’s a date
for cousin’s lunch, and I can’t wait.
We’ll keep it up year after year,
won’t let whatever interfere.
It keeps us bonded, and that’s great!

Saturdays
Any college football day
tends to chase my blues away.
(Except for a specific blue:
that one with maize that passes through.)
Love my scarlet and my gray!

Sundays
Sunday mornings spent in church
singing, praising, heartfelt search
through all the evidence of God
who we can know, and see, and laud.
(Sometimes Keith’s out catching perch. 😉)

Days unnamed, not unembraced,
leave ample time to just be graced
with quiet time
to read or rhyme,
or stuff that’s hard, but must be faced.

© Marie Elena Good 2024

I spent more time on these little pieces than it looks like. They need polishing, but at least the gist is there. 😉

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July 21, 2024

PREFERENCES

Spring Blooms photo credit Keith R. Good

Preferences

I prefer water
falling, or babbling in brooks,
to crashing on shore.

I prefer my sun
filtered through dense forest pines.
The air I breathe, chilled.

I prefer trees dressed
in fall leaf, winter white, and
spring pastel blossom.

I prefer my sweets
whisper, never scream. Infer.
Teach my buds to taste.

I prefer poems
short. Simple. Unpretentious.
Teeming with meaning.

I prefer poem
to novel. Rain song to rap.
Bird song for play list.

I prefer my eyes
open to seeing the good.
Closed to finding fault.

I prefer voices
softly smoothing sharp judgements
and callous replies.

I prefer humble
to haughty. Natural to
embellished. Modest.

I prefer cozy
to large. Simple to stately.
Relaxed, and restful.

I prefer colors
sparsely vibrant, interspersed
in tranquil setting.

I prefer dancing
leaf shadows on my walls to
swanky wallpaper.

I prefer shadows
(sometimes) to that which casts them.
(Art of creation)

I prefer my love’s
letters on small sticky notes
to grand sky writing.

I prefer my home
and my husband to any
-where, and anyone.

I prefer bridges
to walls.  Pathways to highways.
Left ajar to locked.

I prefer the truth
even when you think I won’t.
Even when it hurts.

I prefer Jesus,
gentle and lowly.  King. Christ.
Forgiver of sins.

I prefer my God’s
still small voice that compels me
to be still, myself.

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2024

I wrote three of these seventeens previously

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June 2, 2024

CAUSTIC CREDO

Photo by Rahul on Pexels.com

Entertaining thoughts
of lynching trial jurors?
More insurrection?

Trump and his trial
likened to my sweet Jesus?
Never!  By no means!

© Marie Elena Good 2024

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May 26, 2024

Seeing Through the Disconnect

Photo by Darya Sannikova on Pexels.com

How dissimilarly we are wired.
How varied, the ways we’re inspired.
We think as we do,
Due to all we’ve been through,
For we’re products of what has transpired.

© Marie Elena Good 2024

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April 21, 2024

HUMANITY, ECLIPSED

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

A Syrian friend
flees the supper table with
her whole family

leaving home-cooked meal
to decay in silence, as  
bombs scream her story.

While bombs shake her house
in Ukraine, a sweet young child
runs out the front door,

glares at a gutless
foe, shakes her fist, and bellows,
“You cannot scare me!”

A gentle woman
from Afghanistan stumbles
as she tries to bolt

away from the bombs
in her path. She breaks her nose.
But her lungs still breathe.

More friends from Ukraine
had no light, no heat for months.
This, in my friend’s words:
 
“Life is divided
into before and after
war came to our house.”

In shadows, evil
slinks across the globe beneath
our sentinel moon.

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

These are just a few of the stories of war-weary refugee friends of mine. These few don’t express but an infinitesimal spec of the havoc war wreaked on our planet in the time it took me to pen this poem. What we humans are willing to do to fellow humans is unspeakably horrific.

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April 14, 2024

Far-reaching light

Photo of March Lake Erie morning sky, by Carrie Wakeman

My Father, may I
ask that as the sun rises,
I may sing for joy.

That as the sun sets,
I will recall each moment
spent in Your presence.

Not just for me. For
all whom the sun, moon, and stars
reflect Your love’s light.

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

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April 7, 2024

MIDWEST

Photo by Keith R. Good


You may not have guessed, but I can attest that the Midwest is blessed. And might I suggest your quest be to test if I jest in what I’ve expressed, lest your life be suppressed and you end up depressed for your lack of Midwest nest. I’m from the Midwest, and sincerely request that you come be my guest. 

And yes, I’m obsessed.  

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

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