pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Category: Prompt by Robert Lee Brewer

SATURDAY

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Entombed in darkness –
and yet never extinguished.
The Light of the World.

 

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2019
#seventeeninnineteen

Image Credit:  Spun By Me

(Marie E of Spun By Me:  If you happen on this post of mine, I hope you don’t mind that I used your image.  I had a very difficult time finding one with the stone still rolled in front of the tomb, to represent Holy Saturday.  I also could not find a way to comment or contact you on your site to get permission to use the image.  On a side-note, I found it of interest that your name is Marie E., as mine is as well [Marie Elena].  May God bless you.)

BY NO MEANS

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By no means do I like to travel
On water, air, pavement, or gravel.
So by all means, go.
I’ll stay put. (You know,
Ain’t pretty to see me unravel).

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

HER VOTE

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HER VOTE

She used to share me.
But no more.  Now, silently,
She clutches me close.

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2018

Untitled response to Poetic Asides Prompt 418: THAW

seriously-snow

I thought I thaw a thnowball
Up on a thnowy wall.
How fun to throw,
but I’m too thlow,
and what I thaw had thawed.

My Favorite Christmas Things (to the tune of My Favorite Things)

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Banister greenery, tied with red ribbon.
Moonlit iced tree branches sparkle and glisten.
Carolers harmonize laughter with song.
Uplifting lyrics ring all season long.

Silver-belled streetlamps are charmingly pretty,
Casting their glow on the streets of the city.
Life-sized nativity graces a lawn.
Warmth from a hay bale entices a fawn.

Crystal-like snowflakes that shimmer and twinkle.
Enchanted children, with noses that crinkle.
Scents of warm sugar that waft through the air.
Sense of the kindness of folks everywhere.

Children’s wonder
Peaceful slumber
‘neath a silent snow

The best of the season
all point to the reason –
the birth of a Babe I know.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

RECEIVING SONNET

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Photo by Keith R. Good

The very word is musical, to me.
Her soft iambic pentameter, calm.
Her rise and fall, a wave of soothing sea.
A therapy. A troubled spirit’s balm.

The sonnet seems to whisper, not to shriek.
No heart has she for bias or outrage.
Her soul is surely humble, yielding, meek.
A lady, moving gracefully through age.

When strolling wood, I hear her hollowed call.
While contemplating God, she sometimes sighs.
Perceptible in mid-west farmland’s sprawl.
She’s many means to draw and mesmerize.

Each time she calls, I gladly sit with her.
I stroke each word, and listen for her purr.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

JESUS, I BELIEVE YOU (Sonnet for The Son of Man)

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Image credit:  “Nail Pierced Hands of the Ultimate Superhero”

Conceived of virgin, launching life of strife.
In unpretentious setting, You were born.
You claimed to be The Way. The Truth. The Life.
Judged blasphemous, then kinged with crown of thorns.

They say a prophet goes unrecognized
In his or her own town … and this was You.
For there you were, distrusted and despised –
Not warranting the hatred that You drew.

Could they not see Your Father in Your face?
Were they not there to witness healing hands?
Were they not awed by one so full of grace?
Yet all was in accordance with Your plans.

My Jesus, I believe Your every word,
Which, only by Your grace, my ears have heard.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

In The Name of All That is Right

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Photo by Keith R. Good

This Land of the Free can’t agree on taking a knee.  But it’s not about the knee.  It’s about equality, and that’s the key to being free, from sea to shining sea.

See?

© Marie Elena Good 2017

#takeaknee

I Am An Aging, Living Being

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No longer vibrant
smooth
-skinned strength, framed
on the nightstand

No longer quick
-witted or
-stepped
fluid in mind
agile in stride

No longer resourceful
proficient
a step ahead
with a head in the game

At times still life,
I am life, still

I am aging

living

being.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

SLOW WRITER (a dizain)

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In the time it took to write this dizain,
I should have lost weight.  So why didn’t I?
Well truly, Sugar, I just can’t explain.
You’d think it would be as easy as pie.
I’m just in a jam.  Can’t figure out why.
Computer cookies! Could there be a link?
My appetite for the sweet flow of ink?
Digesting rhymes in the grocery aisle?
The weight of my words?  It all makes me think.
I wonder. Let me chew on that awhile.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2016