Albatross
Photo by Johann Van der Linde on Pexels.com
Term Two (a Tricube)
It feels like
quicksand, but
it isn’t.
We may be
in too deep
to get out,
but we can
still stand up
for what’s right.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
Robert Lee Brewer’s April 2025 PAD
This form is a Tricube: 3 stanzas of 3 lines of 3 syllables
Life’s View from My Recliner
The chair Mom rocked me in when I was a baby,
and when I wasn’t ready for her to stop.
The chair from which Grandma would flash that playful grin at me,
holding out the adorable ceramic kitten she would let me hold,
as long as I was in her lap. (That kitten is now mine.)
Decorative pillows Deanna brought home from Nepal for me
that now enjoy both my mom’s and my grandma’s touch.
The Tiffany-style lamp Dad turned from gas to electric,
and that now throws rainbows across my floor and onto my walls
and that sits atop the chess table he made
and the box that holds the wooden chess pieces.
The African violets started by my father-in-law.
They received the best upbringing, as he stroked and spoke to them.
Large windows that let in sun’s cheer, even as the scenes change
outside them. Visitors that grace those scenes …
colorful, talkative birds; various kinds of squirrels; chipmunks; deer;
delivery trucks that had halted during the pandemic;
moms and dads and grandparents pushing strollers or walking dogs;
children riding bikes;
the love of my life cleaning the gutters before tonight’s expected storm.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
Robert Lee Brewer’s April 2025 PAD
Day 2 prompt: From where I sit
Dear all:
The first time I was eligible to vote, I registered as a democrat. I proudly/excitedly/confidently voted for Jimmy Carter. In the very next election, I registered republican to vote (shaking in my shoes) for Ronald Reagan. For much of my life, I’ve considered myself a conservative republican. After my party went too far right for me, and the democrats too far left, I haven’t known how to politically label myself. I have always voted my conscious – I have never been a party-line voter. I am, and always will be, a follower of Jesus Christ.
But in this time we are in, I am democrat. Not because I agree with everything they think and do. Not because I have seen them accomplish all they say they are about (because I haven’t, because they haven’t). But because I see them as the only path to restoring our checks and balances in this America I already no longer recognize.
In this time we are in, I am American. I am Ukrainian, Syrian, Lebanese, Haitian, Afghani, Iranian, Iraqi, Sudanese, Somalian, Canadian, Burundian, Mexican, Peruvian, Cuban, Brazilian, Nicaraguan, Venezuelan … you get the picture.
In this time we are in, I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I am Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, Buddhist, Shinto …
In this time we are in, I am female. I am male. I am straight. I am lesbian, gay, bi, trans, queer, she, he, they …
In this time we are in, I am a citizen of the United States of America. I am a refugee, a parolee, an asylee. I am legal, illegal, undocumented …
In this time we are in, I am innocent. I am guilty, convicted, chained, and imprisoned.
Why do I say I am all these, when clearly I am not?
When Jesus’s feet were on this earth, He showed love and compassion for all. Yes, He stood for righteousness. He didn’t waiver from purity and holiness, and He encourages us to do the same (though it is impossible for us). He was sinless in His thought life. He was sinless in His behavior. He was all-loving, all-just, wholly compassionate, wholly empathetic, and (please hear this), He was sinless in His compassion and empathy. It is in large part why He came.
As a follower of Jesus, it is my duty and my privilege to honor with dignity and compassion every person ever created. We are all created in the image of God. It is His way. It is what He flawlessly demonstrated, and will do so eternally.
May He help me … help my country … be more like Him.
With all sincerity,
Marie Elena
Remember When
you were a child, afraid
of trying something new
balking at the color
texture
odor
untrusting of where it came from
afraid it might hurt you
even though some you know
and even trust
happily partook regularly
and encouraged you
just try it.
Remember when
you thought about a sample
just a tiny one
and thought perhaps it might not be
as risky as you feared
and in fact maybe
it might be tolerable.
Remember when
you matured enough
to actually test those waters
and found them to be okay
and maybe even appealing
and maybe even begged
another try
and then you discovered
you loved it
and that you even felt better
when you had it as a regular
maybe even daily
part of your sustenance
and did everything you could
to make sure it was right here
where it could fill you up.
And maybe I’m not talking about food.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
#welcomethestranger
Beauty
It isn’t my thing,
the glaring sun against sand
‘neath cloudless blue sky.
Sand beneath my feet
and waves washing shells ashore
hold little appeal.
Give me falling snow;
leaves crunching beneath bike tires;
charitable eyes.
There is no beauty
in the pearly white smile that
gleams self-interest.
Now this is beauty:
Jesus, gentle and lowly,
showing us His way.
Let me see Jesus
in your face; hear Him in the
song your kindness sings.
May He teach me how
to sing tender notes, and may
you hear Him in me.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
.
Untied State of America
Too many are in a state in which to appease this would-be king is a thing. Too many in power cower to the flurry of EOs. And I worry: are we in the throes of war? The doors of our neighbors slam and lock as they balk at what we have become … in one month’s time. A crime. America, loosed from friends who have deduced we are behind this unraveling, is disjointed. We’ve appointed a king, know it or not. Formerly brothers, we are now others in the sight of those who once had our back. They see what we don’t. Or won’t. Their eyes are open to the dulling of the shining city on the hill, while our king is culling our allies at his will.
Your falling isn’t
from the attacks of others,
my country, ‘tis of thee.
© Marie Elena Good, 2025
No Party for Me
I cannot vote for
killing babies in the womb
or outside the womb
killing grown babies
we send off to fight a war
to never come home
or come home missing —
pieces of themselves murdered —
never to come back.
I cannot vote for
babies who grew up to think
it is okay to
endanger those of
different cultures – cultures
they were taught don’t love
and that they are not
welcome to safety, if their
safety is near you
if their safety costs
dollars from a rich nation,
or even if not.
If their safety might
make you even just a bit
uncomfortable
then it isn’t worth
your time or your energy,
even if you find
it costs none of that.
I cannot vote for
babies who never grew up
never grew out of
thinking more highly
of themselves than others, and
showing it daily.
I cannot vote for
those unwilling to see that
some people need help
not because they are
unwilling to work, and not
because they’re lazy.
I cannot vote for
those who want to take away
American rights —
even those rights that
perhaps I disagree with,
or don’t understand.
I have no party.
I have no candidate, but
I love my country
and I will fight to
hold fast the America
that’s slipping away.
© Marie Elena Good, 2025
Of Humble Means (Sonnet to The Newborn King)
Expectant couple travels far and fierce.
She, full with child, atop a gentle ass.
He, worried as her sighs begin to pierce,
And finding there’s no room in inns they pass.
He, with no proper room to birth her child,
Secures a proffered stable to take rest.
The Babe comes quickly, there amidst the wild.
He frees her Son, and lays Him at her breast.
The Newborn listens to the bleating sheep.
The feeding trough He lies in smells of hay.
His weary mother tries to get some sleep,
Through rolling sounds of cry and bleat and bray.
Great throngs of angels revel in this day –
In lowly trough, there lies The Truth. The Way.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
Perusing Currier and Ives
I scroll images, pausing at those singing nostalgia to me. Pausing at the ones representing a simple splendor that’s long passed. Pausing to get lost in the films they spark in my mind’s eye. Pausing to play in the snow. Pausing to gaze into scenes of serenity and similarity. Pausing simply to
pause.
And, perhaps,
this is precisely the point.
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
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
pictured words 