Pathya Vat Prayer Verse
Sadly finding
Old fashioned prayer
Wretchedly rare;
Socially railed
© Marie Elena Good
pictured words
a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
Category: Uncategorized
June 13, 2016
TWIST HER
Photo credit: thedancingimage.blogspot
What changes would no twister bring?
Everything.
The wicked witch? I guarantee
Would still be
Ruby slipper’d, with stockings striped
Black and white.
Her Aunt Em’s home would not take flight
No straw psyche; no tin goodwill
Contentment would elude her still
And everything would still be black and white.
© Marie Elena Good, 2016
June 12, 2016
AND IT’S NEVER OKAY
Bomb or gun
Mass or one
Gay or straight
Hate is hate
Foreign-run
Or homespun
Vain debate
Hate is hate
Deeply flawed
“Under God”
Won’t negate
Hate is hate
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2016
Photo from http://www.gmpcc.org.uk/news/stand-together-against-hate-crime/ .
June 8, 2016
2016 PRESUMPTIVE NOMINEES
I do not trust each nominee.
I cannot vote for T nor C.
I will not vote for he nor she.
I cannot, will not! Nope, not me!
This poem I penned is childlike:
Less fighter jet – more toddler trike.
But this election’s not grown up –
We’re drowning in a sippy cup.
© Marie Elena Good, 2016
May 28, 2016
“Mary” (Entry from the journal of Mary of Magdala)
This morning
This mourning broke me.
Reality pierced my soul,
Left a gaping hole, with fears
No tears can fill.
This morning
His eyes haunted me,
As I already strained to recall
The implausible love I saw in them
Before the cross.
This morning
I longed to once again see myself –
Me as he saw me –
The me he presented to others –
Instead of the wretch I see in me.
This morning,
In darkness of mood and day,
I made my way to his tomb.
My heart and breath halted
As my eyes assaulted my senses.
This morning
He was gone.
I was even robbed of his lifeless body?
The cruelty of this was agonizing
And my wounds grew deeper still.
This morning
I wept harder and longer and deeper
Than I ever have before –
Not even at the cross, for I was too traumatized
For tears.
This morning
I saw men? Angels? Someone – something – angels
At the head and foot where he had lain.
They asked me why I was weeping.
How could I explain such pain?
This morning
I turned and saw a man – the gardener?
He asked me the same question the angels had.
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
Once my closed throat allowed me to speak,
I begged of him, “PLEASE sir, where have you put him?”
“Mary.”
Rabboni!
This morning
Mourning broke.
Light rose from darkness,
Spoke my name,
And I will never be the same.
©Marie Elena Good
Gospel of John, Chapter 20
Photo credit: Shutterstock.com
May 25, 2016
untitled aubade (dawn)
Photo by Keith R. Good
“Make it dark, make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke.” ~ Josh Whedon
My mind was entombed
In the dark night of my soul.
Then it dawned on me …
May 10, 2016
YAWEH ELOHIM
Photo by Keith R. Good
This is the first time I have posted words gleaned from someone else. I created this little site to be a place to pair my own poetry with images from others … but these words from my pastor so richly and deeply touched me, I wanted to share them here. As is often the case, one of my husband Keith’s photos serves as a perfect backdrop.
If you do not know this Yahweh Elohim Pastor Kain speaks of, I would be honored to introduce Him to you. Feel free to leave a comment below, with a way to get in touch with you.
Marie
May 8, 2016
MOTHER OF ALZHEIMER’S
Photo by Themes.com
Who birthed (unearthed)
This unwelcome invasion,
Or gave it the right
To hijack each occasion
Meant to endure and assure her
She’s loved. She belongs.
It ceaselessly wrongs her,
Assassinates her senses;
Condenses her being
To fleeting moments,
Thought amputation,
Self dislocation,
And few kin.
And it will win.
© Marie Elena Good, 2016
May 4, 2016
LOST, BUT NOT AIMLESS
Painting by Jackie Meier
I believe in small government. I love my Uncle Sam, but don’t trust him to use our taxes effectively, efficiently, or fairly to benefit the needy among us. I believe in the heart of the American people to nurture the disadvantaged, and I don’t begrudge those who have much.
I believe in lifting our lamp beside the golden door. I believe that lady in the harbor meant what she said, and knew that big hearts win in the end.
I’ve always looked right for my compass, but I’ve become disoriented.
I don’t recognize the mercenary face extending a deceitful hand to haul me down a freeway that is not free, and is not the way.
And yet …
Don’t talk to me about turning left at the intersection. For there I see a self-aggrandizing dragon that breathes intolerance even as it feigns open arms.
Don’t talk to me about moderate. A little of this and a pinch of that have no home – no place to rest their head or raise their voice.
Lost, but not aimless … and not alone.
“In the LORD’s hand the king’s heart is a stream of water that he channels toward all who please him.” ~ Proverbs 21:1
© Marie Elena Good, 2016
Jackie Meier: ( https://www.facebook.com/JackieMeierPaintings/?fref=ts )
April 20, 2016
Ours is not a Fairy Tale
He’s not Prince Charming – nor I, Snow White.
He’s loved me, not as spell-bound knight
in dreamy woodland’s moon-spilled light,
nor magic-carpet star-strewn flight.
A quiet man who’s loved me through
the ugliness real life can brew.
No fairy tale – More trials in queue,
This noble man fulfills “I do.”
© Marie Elena Good, 2016
Happy 25th, Keith. Though ours is not a fairy tale love, it’s far deeper than enchanted storybook romance. I love you and thank God many times per day for you.
pictured words 