Photo credit: Wildschuetz at pixabay.com
May we learn by heart
that live is three quarters love
and one quarter “I.”
#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen
pictured words
a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
Category: Robert Lee Brewer’s April Poem-a-Day Challenge, 2017
May 4, 2017
May 1, 2017
Israelite’ish
Photo by Deanna Marie Metts
Tell me again
how You parted
the waters
that threatened my soul
to sink.
Remind me
the healings
when reeling
from lie’s ink;
death’s brink.
Retell the hell
from which
you snatched my feet.
Unseat untruth
I tell my past.
I ask, let’s talk
of solid rock
that drenched the earth
and quenched
my thirst.
Recall for me
the blood-soaked tree –
the guarantee
you set me free
from me.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
May 1, 2017
THE DIME
I know impish Izzy who swallowed a dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
I know impish Izzy who swallowed banana
that tasted so sweet and that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime.
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
I know impish Izzy is waiting to poop.
And each time she does, Momma’s needing to “snoop.”
She swallowed banana that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
I know a sweet Momma who thinks this all stinks.
Whose sweet little Izzy is full of high jinx
And while she’s high jinxing, she’s waiting to poop
And each time she does, Momma’s needing to snoop.
She swallowed banana that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
I know impish Izzy, who gives us a run
For proverbial money. She’s playful, that one.
Her sweet little Momma just thinks this all stinks,
While Izzy is impish and full of high jinx
And while she’s high jinxing, she’s waiting to poop
And each time she does, Momma’s needing to snoop.
She swallowed banana that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
Our Izzy is loaded with life and fun sass.
And as for the dime? Well, this too shall pass.
(And you ALL knew THAT was coming! 
)
Inspired also, of course by:
I KNOW AN OLD LADY
by Rose Bonne and Alan Mills
April 30, 2017
THE GOD I KNOW (a sonnet to my Savior)
Bleeding Heart Photo by Deanna Marie Metts
I used to think I knew the God I know.
But over time, I’ve come to know Him more.
More intimately close than long ago,
I’ve learned more of this Heart I can’t ignore.
In part, I’ve come to recognize my sin
As more egregious than I had before.
This veil of righteousness is wispy thin,
For I am but a sinner at my core.
The realization of the heart of God,
Whose love spilled blood for even such as I
(A seemingly good woman, deeply flawed),
Just makes me long to praise and glorify
The One who drew me to Him as a child,
In whom I’ve grown remarkably beguiled.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
April 27, 2017
words crack open
Photo by Keith R. Good
words crack open
some willingly
spilling
some win-
some
some wince-
some
some pester
and fester
some swoon
in moonlit sky
and wonder
why
she’s deaf
to their cry
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
April 22, 2017
HOW IT ENDED (fable)
Photo by Keith R. Good
“We’re all doomed!” wailed baboon.
“Now, says who?” asked the shrew.
“It’s a lie!” declared fly.
“You buffoon!” slurred raccoon.
“Please, please, please!” pleaded bees,
“What baboon says is true!
We are dying in droves!
If we die, you will too!”
“But that’s not what MAN says,
and he’d KNOW,” shrieked the crow.
And the rest felt affirmed
While baboon’s head hung low.
“We rely on each bee,” whispered unnoticed flea.
With the flea’s voice unheard,
And the baboon, insulted
No common sense stirred,
And the poet’s voice halted.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
April 16, 2017
No Longer Under the System of Law
Amazing grace
complete, profound.
Enslaved in sin, set free.
How great the cost
that shook the ground.
Defining love for me.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
(Inspired, of course, by John Newton’s “Amazing Grace”)
April 13, 2017
ANDREA
A people-person and poet,
she learned to write
in a language not her own.
Alone, and on a small Danish island,
she yearned to connect.
To greet poetic kin.
In time, she braved the barriers
of language and space,
embraced globe and all therein.
Within her lay a yearning.
A burning desire to know You.
To believe in Your existence.
But the distance seemed too far,
and far-flung stars, more personal
than the God who hung them.
How often did she ask to unmask
the key to faith in a God who hears.
Loves. Draws. Speaks.
Yet I believe. I believe You
who knew her heart from the start
ran to greet her.
“Mit barn! My child!”
I believe she recognized You at once,
whispered tenderly, “Min far. My Father.”
Never again will language be labored,
and never again faith
a far-flung star.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
Sadly, our Poetic Asides family lost our Danish friend, Andrea Heiberg. She died of cancer Monday. Andrea never let language get in the way of relationship, clear across the globe. Her presence will be missed by so very many.
Next Stop: Sejer Island.
By Andrea Heiberg
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12381964-next-stop
April 11, 2017
A SOMBER SONNET, THIS
*
Ain’t got no time for silliness, I say.
No room for fun. No need for loud guffaws.
Can’t cope with pranks. Can’t stand the phrase, “Let’s play.”
I’d rather deal with early menopause.
Ain’t got no time for silliness, for sure.
Won’t take the time to write a silly poem.
I’m too articulate, and too mature.
I’d rather chew on tin or Styrofoam.
Ain’t got no time for silliness, ya hear?
I’ve got no use for gigglers all aglow.
Don’t whisper no sweet nothings in my ear.
I’d rather use teaspoons to shovel snow.
Were I to pen some fun, I’d be remiss.
I’m glad that it’s a somber sonnet, this.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
*Izzy’s first haircut! 😀
April 10, 2017
UNITED
I wish all had disembarked.
Teach United
the meaning of its name.
#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen
#aprilpad
pictured words 