Teaching ESL (English as a Second Language) to Possible U.S. (United States) Citizens
We are too different to unite.
I will never be convinced
Integration is possible.
I see
Insurmountable hurdles.
Listen: Don’t be fooled into thinking these are
U.S. citizens in the making
© Marie Elena Good 2025
A reverse poem. Now read from the bottom line to the top.
Return of the Proverbial … Well, You Know …
It’s just a strainer/drain stopper for my kitchen sink. My Amazon cart fills with various designs, while my kitchen drain plugs up again and again and again. Don’t even ask me how much money I’ve wasted in total, as I don’t even bother to return them.
My drain plugs, cart fills,
and garage houses many
just in case models.
Meanwhile…
More than five decades
ago, man went to the moon
and safely returned.
© Marie Elena Good 2024
The photo is my newest drain stopper, with a strainer beneath it. I think this one might actually work! Ha!
Our Christmas Tree, 2024
My December Song, with Apologies to Sammy Cahn
Though the weather outside is frightful,
from my window, it’s delightful.
While sipping my steaming tea,
turn the thermostat up one degree.
While my husband clears off our driveway
on this high of only 5 day,
my kitchen’s warm sugar scent
made me weak – I confess! I repent!
When he finally comes inside,
gets a whiff of the goodies I made,
sees the guilt that I just can’t hide –
think he’d believe they’re mislaid?
Oh the weather outside’s now icing,
and our flannels’ so enticing.
Keith joins me for one last tea;
turns the thermostat down one degree.
While we gaze at our Christmas tree,
we hear winds howling outside our door.
Nestling close while we sip Chablis,
I feel the draft on our floor.
Though the temperature’s turning bitter,
here inside, the tree’s a-glitter,
and the fireplace is aglow.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
Turns the thermostat up …
© Marie Elena Good 2024
Photo by Ahmed akacha: https://www.pexels.com/photo/men-holding-his-daughter-on-a-campsite-19263993/
When I come home,
I lock my door.
When you arrive,
I’m committed to open my door
and unlock my heart.
© Marie Elena Good 2024
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
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.
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
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. 😉
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
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
pictured words 