Ohio Department of Health Director, Dr. Amy Acton (thankful for her)
I don’t believe in fluke of fate.
No, we were slated for this time.
But as we climb this curve
we work to flatten as ordered
to slacken this attack,
I am looking forward
to looking back.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Stuck inside these four walls.
Feels it’s been forever.
Never seeing no one
sane again. It’s true.
It’s just you. Crazy you.
Will we ever get out of here?
Now it’s looking like months away.
I won’t make it out sound, I fear.
All I need is a break today
From your dad jokes and puns, my dear.
Hush and hand me those Tums, my dear.
Well, my mind exploded with a mighty crash
As he told another pun.
And it’s clear that he’s entertaining himself,
And I hope he’s having fun.
Man with a pun. Man with a pun.
And I’m stuck inside, nowhere to hide.
Oh, save me please, someone
From this man with a pun.
Man with a pun.
Man with a pun.
I am so done.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Just kidding, guys! Actually LOVING being stuck with my funny/punny hubby!
Took this from Band on The Run, and ran with it.
Photo courtesy of Pixabay
Which wish is which?
Witch wish is which?
Which witches swish?
Which swishes which?
Which wishes switch?
Which wishes swish?
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Not much of a poem, but lots of fun to write!
It wasn’t a twister,
but a whirlwind of words
that whisked me away,
introduced my would-be Dorothy
to this would-be Scarecrow
who blows me away
with his way with words,
as very few can.
Our story began across a lake
and make no mistake,
he’s my partner in rhyme.
He believes he’s no longer
in his prime,
but I’ll tell you this (and you’d agree)
that his prolific poetry
has no specific begin and end time.
And moreover, he’ll turnover
every tune or turn of phrase
to raise the bar.
He’s the pace car.
And he will always be
the poetry man,
to me.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Photo from HMbd.org
There is a distance
of point eight miles from my home
to “Indian Hills,”
our name for the site
of The Indian Wars, on
the Maumee River.
Seventeen Ninety
to Seventeen Ninety Five:
The “savages” fought
To save their homes from
American Pioneers
aiming to settle.
Nineteen Fifty Five:
An historical marker
was erected, and
continues to stand
regally, as visitors
are enlightened to
the proclamation
of “peaceful white settlement.”
And there’s not enough
Witeout on hand to
to cover our ignorance,
and there will never
be enough distance
between Seventeen Ninety
and my property.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Historical Marker of The Indian Wars. 1790-1795, erected in 1955 by the Historical Society of Northwestern Ohio
The marker begins, “When American pioneers attempted to settle the area north and west of the Ohio River, following the ordinance of 1787, the Indians, aided by the British in Canada, fought valiantly and fiercely for their homes in the Ohio country. It required the efforts of three American armies to break the Indian resistance.” It goes on to say, “ … the Indians signed the Treaty of Green Ville August 3, 1795. They were thereby placed under the control of the United States, and the Northwest Territory was opened, in part, to peaceful white settlement.”
And it makes me shudder.
Right before we got attacked
TP stood in towering stacks,
And I was there. (I was there.)
Can’t reach out my hand to you.
Watching a “washing hands how to.”
Once I was there. (But now I’m here.)
And oooooh …
Orders say I must stay home.
This coronavirus genome
Needs my cells to help it roam.
I’ll be here, right where I belong.
Can’t tag along,
‘cause I am holin’ up (Holin’ up)
Yes I am. Yes I am.
Two O’clock each day DeWine and Acton
Presenting us with some fun and fact’in.
Ohio, we need them. I’m glad they’re here. (Glad they’re here.)
They are here to protect us, (yeah baby)
With leadership that inspires us.
We are tuned in, and they are here. (Glad they’re here.)
Michael Jackson would be there,
but this cockamamie virus
holds me here, in my armchair.
I’ll be here, right where I belong.
Can’t tag along,
‘cause I am holin’ up (Holin’ up)
Yes I am. Yes I am.
If you should ever find more TP,
I hope that you’ll be nice, and share with me.
‘Cause if you don’t,
I can’t pee. (I won’t pee.)
Don’t say no baby!
Spare a square!
Don’t you care?
Just call my phone, I’ll be here. (I’ll be here.)
Don’t look over your shoulders honey, ooh –
Won’t be there. Can’t go there.
Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.
Don’t you know baby,
I’ll be here. I’ll be here
Just call my phone. I’ll be here. (Staying here.)
Ooh ooh ooh ooh Staying here. Staying here.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
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 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
She used to share me.
But no more. Now, silently,
She clutches me close.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2018
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.
pictured words 