Political | pictured words

UNRECOGNIZABLE

What would I say were you to ask me when
my love of country first had gone astray?
I’d look you in the eye, pick up my pen,
and write my heart as best I can convey.

America, my love for you stands strong,
and that’s why my respect for you has died.
For almost all that once was right is wrong —
now gone the principles that edified.

Once welcoming of those who are in need;
once sticking to the promises you made;
now inhumane, you lie and bleed with greed.
How is it possible you’ve so far strayed?

The question, then, is when I lost respect.
It’s as these vile months in have gone unchecked.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

Just today alone in my country, immigrants began to arrive in “Alligator Alcatraz,” and our “servants” passed Trump’s “big beautiful bill.”

And it is only late afternoon.

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

October 25, 2020

NEVER HAVE I EVER

Never Have I Ever
is a party game, where one says,
“Never have I ever ___.”
(fill in the blank)
Those who have actually done that thing
lose a point.
Out of points? Out of game.

I’ll go first.
Never have I ever
seen early-voting lines,
let alone those that extend for blocks,
for days.

Now, how many of you are still in the game?

Truth is,
it’s not a game.
The stakes are high.
The views, dissimilar.

What do you see in the distance?
Hope?
Fear?
A kinder country?
Loss of freedoms?
Peace?
Chaos?

Don’t answer that. Because,
you know,
never have I ever
witnessed a greater loss
of kindness and respect
in discussions.

But, there is a vanishing point
where the look-back perspectives align.
Then we will see, and smile
at the vanity of it all.

In the greater distance, I see
celestial shores.
No lines needed.
We will know for the first time
what it actually feels like to be united.
To have no doubts in our King’s
kindness, love, and justice.
We will know for the first time
what it actually feels like
to be equal children
of the Living God.
To be home.

Never have I ever
longed more deeply
for a non-foreign Shore.

October 8, 2020

VP DEBATE, 2020

This debate was more civil than first.
But responses seemed vague and rehearsed.
Though some orderliness was restored,
Many questions were simply ignored.

Undecideds, I’d just like to ask:
Did you learn who is up to the task?
Or perhaps you just think it’s a crime
that the fly did not get equal time. 😉

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

2 Comments

May 31, 2020

voice

Image courtesy of Pixabay

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

2 Comments

February 18, 2019

ALL IN THE SAME BOAT (Or, “Idyllic,” a Sonnet for Political Sanity)

Photo by Keith R. Good

When I consider all, from left to right,
I find myself smack dab in center’s eye.
But I am now okay with that, despite
The pressures of a partisan outcry.

Those right of me say I should think as they,
And fault me for the way I lean more left.
While to my left are those who stand dismayed
That I am not (in their minds) more “progressed.”

Yet are we not one vessel, stern to bow?
We need to row as one, or we will sink!
And so let’s work together to learn how
Our center, left, and right can interlink.

Let’s turn off the contemptuous hate speech,
And focus on the positives of each.

9 Comments

November 22, 2016

Mother of Exiles

Photo credit: “Bill” of lovethispic.com

Silent lips call not the privileged,
But the pillaged –
Lifted lamp in hand, pursuing
Pomp’s undoing.
Mother of Exiles’ mild eyes
Don’t canonize ennoblement,
Nor demonize the waifs’ lament.
Her lamp is lit,
Her mission, writ –
“Send these,” her timeless, ceaseless plea.
Dear homeless, come. Be loved. Breathe free.

8 Comments