TODDLERS’ ECONOMY

What’s mine is mine. What’s yours is mine.
Remember this, and we’ll be fine.
E-con-oh-me? Not for the wee!
E-con- NO! MY! economy.
© Marie Elena Good 2009

What’s mine is mine. What’s yours is mine.
Remember this, and we’ll be fine.
E-con-oh-me? Not for the wee!
E-con- NO! MY! economy.
© Marie Elena Good 2009

Photo credit: Deanna Marie Metts
One heart was freed
One soul was saved
One life unchained
One sentence waived
One died for me
One took my place
One sacrifice
One act of grace
One Holy God
One Trinity
One Perfect Lamb
One thankful me
© copyright 2009, Marie Elena Good

A life that’s wanted is a life that’s life.
Unwanted life? Disposable tissue.
So at what point does life become a life?
Unplanned or planned – too often the issue.
The silent scream of babies ripped apart
Is deafening to me – I can’t be still
And not express what grieves my beating heart
While theirs are halted at another’s will.
What right have we to turn a woman’s womb
Into an unplanned baby’s living tomb?
© Marie Elena Good, 2016

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts
All I wanted was to give you a gift –
A pretty something you could wear
On your wrist,
Or around your neck.
Something having nothing to do
With construction paper,
scissors,
or crayons.
Something purchased with paper money
From a department store.
Something wrapped in ribbon.
Now all I want is to give you a gift –
Something having nothing to do
With purchases
With paper money.
I want to give you
Sunny smiles,
Smooth sailing,
Sweet solace.

Media photo as presented by Photography of Nia
I can’t pretend to understand
As hostile minds, with arms in hand,
Disturb a peaceful country’s night
While innocents hole up in fright.
Another friend, another cry,
Another ally begging, “why?”
Another hashtag adding weight
To those who prompt and spread the hate.
This fallen universe, complex:
While animosity is flexed,
A softness tries to smooth the way
From violent night, to placid day.
Let softness have its gentle sway;
Let mankind not be mankind’s prey.
© Marie Elena Good

Photo by Keith R. Good
Hate reigns. What remains
To say? To pray?
We disavow
(somehow)
Our sin in errant skin –
Our callous view of life
As strife endures, and carnage lures
The vilest mind.
Oh, mankind!
Weep desolately deep
As France steeps in blood,
And floods of tears release
A piece of Nice.
© Marie Elena Good

Photo credit: dreamstime.com
We as children
Face-up in soft grass
Hands clasped behind our heads
Watching floating scenes above,
Seeing things differently –
Each through our own lens,
Mimicking real life.
© Marie Elena Good

As life bleeds red,
My guilt, this:
I thank my God
My love is not
In blue uniform;
My son, in black skin.
© Marie Elena Good