pictured words

MARIE

“MARIE” – an acrostic profile poem

MERCIFUL.
She finds it easy to be merciful, as she experiences daily the mercy of her God.

APPROACHABLE.
Welcoming eyes and ready smile … not peculiar enough to frighten, nor so lovely as to intimidate.

REDEEMED.
Sinner-deemed-sinless, a debt she can’t pay.

INDEBTED.
Humbly and deeply thankful for parents who taught much, and loved regardless; an abundance of encouraging, uplifting, loyal friends and extended family; and mostly her Creator, whose unyielding love, grace, and mercy breathe her very existence.

ENTHUSIASTIC.
Taught by her father that “Nothing great was ever accomplished without enthusiasm.”

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February 5, 2023

How I Long to Speak to Comets

How I Long to Speak to Comets

He sang the universe
into existence.
An estimated one septillion
stars,
each with a name
given by Him.
Oh, to be bestowed
the voice of an angel
to have sung with Him a star.
Just one.
And oh, how I long to speak
to comets.
To utter one sound
one note the comets comprehend,
then to soar on their tails,
singing praise to the One
who fashioned us.

The line, “How I long to speak to comets,” comes from poet friend Damon Dean’s A Comet, Green. Damon’s poetry may be found at: https://sevenacresky.com/

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February 2, 2023

This music is the picture and the poem

This audio clip is selected from a 1972 Poland Seminary High School band concert in Poland, Ohio, under the direction of my father, James Fagnano. The clarinet student featured is Ralph Lutz.

This was an extraordinary group of dedicated, passionate student musicians. Dad brought out the best in them — and they, in him. Over the years, I began to wonder if my memories of these high school students sounding more like a fantastic college or even professional musicians was simply overblown in my head. I’m thankful for these recordings. This band was every bit as good as I recall.

Per Kevin Cook, who, with Richard Woolford, kindly contacted me to get some of Dad’s music into my sister’s and my hands, these few selections are from “recordings made on Richard Woolford’s tape recorder, which Mark Kostyk made copies of and ultimately digitized. Since Rick was in band, Ralph Hutchinson served as the recording engineer. Kudos to Ralph for his diligent work. I contacted Rick and asked if he would allow me to share these recordings with others and he gave me his blessing.”

Guys, I can’t thank you enough. Warm smile and hugs to you all.

This second selection is titled Bugler’s Holiday (1972). The featured soloists are Loren Popio, Steve Alleman, and Karl Ivansen.

This third selection is titled Tone Poem (1970).

The fourth is titled Variations on a Korean Folk Song (1969).

I would love to share all I was given.

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January 29, 2023

HOW TO RECOGNIZE YOURSELF

How to Recognize Yourself

In somewhat of a hurry, she quickens her steps. Her eyes shift right as her side vision catches a glimpse of scurried movement in a store window.  In what seems like a nanosecond, her eyes are looking ahead of her again.  Just like that, her pace slows drastically, as her eyes again shift right in a nearly imperceivable attempt to pull themselves together.  “No,” they try to convince themselves, “that is not her.  That is not us.”  She allows herself to come to a full stop.  She turns to face the window, to stare into those eyes that betray her.  The woman staring back at her has sparse brows, and even sparser lips.  Her shoulders droop, negating the fact that she feels erect.  Her upper arms sag.  She wears sensible shoes.  She doesn’t know what the big hurry was.

Eyes search for signs of
former beauty.  Christ reminds  
us, we are His bride.

© Marie Elena Good, 2023

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January 22, 2023

ELEVEN

Eleven

Mature well beyond her years and big for her age, she is not a girly girl. She looks very much young- adult, and is sometimes mistaken as such. Those her age can’t relate to her, nor she to them. Yet in the midst, her kindness for all, shines. Her laughter comes easily. She faces young adult assumptions, expectations, misperceptions, and uncertainties. She seeks clothing and hair styles in an effort to make her more comfortable in her own skin. Today, we are at her Christmas-gift hair appointment. Appointment complete, her stylist says, “Pretty. What do you think?”

Eyes in mirror smile
while unexpected soft voice
slips, “I am pretty.”

© Marie Elena Good 2023

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January 15, 2023

VISIT WITH GRANDPA

Photo by Francisco Fernu00e1ndez on Pexels.com

Visit with Grandpa

Walking up my street,
I see a man walking toward me.
Aww. Looks like Grandpa, I think,
knowing it couldn’t be.
As we get closer, there is no mistaking.
Yes, it is Grandpa.
I don’t want to wake up, and miss out.
He approaches me.
“Grandpa!”
He gives me a hug.
As is nearly always the case when I dream
of the dead, all senses are engaged.

“Grandpa, what are you doing here?”
He says he came to tell me not to worry about
circumstances that were consuming me.
Everything would be just fine.

Then he says, “You know I can’t stay.”
Yes, of course.
I just don’t want to lose him again
so quickly.

“But I will come back,” he assures.
He hugs me again, and,
just that quick,
he’s gone.

My long, detailed dream continues.
It seems to last a good portion of the night.

Suddenly, there he is again.
This time, he doesn’t speak.
His silence stills me,
while it declares a grand reassurance.

I wake from the dream,
recognizing it hadn’t been merely a dream.

And I smile.
When he said he would return,
I hadn’t realized he meant
that quickly.
That night.
That dream.

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January 8, 2023

Not to Mention the Smell of Wet Wool

Not to Mention the Smell of Wet Wool

Thought by now I’d be asleep,
but I’m not, because these sheep
will not let me close my eyes,
will not sing me lullabies,
gripe and whine and bleat and cry,
in from rain, they then drip-dry
on my pillow and bedspread,
on my PJs and my head,
arguing amongst themselves,
busting up my bedroom shelves,
dancing with their noisy hooves,
(must admit they’ve got the moves)…
I could just go on and on.
Woe to me, here comes the dawn.
Counting sheep must be unwise.
Next time, I’ll just close my eyes.

© Marie Elena Good, 2023

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January 1, 2023

NEW WORD FOR 2023

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Each year, I choose a word.
Grace, joy, giving, hospitality, empathy, prayer …
You know, words that improve my focus
and my life.
Not one for resolutions,
the idea of a word of the year appeals to me.
It is simple. Embraceable.
I nearly chose prayer again,
but after much thought and, well, prayer,
I decided on open.
Open heart.
Open door.
Open to grace, joy, giving, hospitality, empathy, prayer …
Open.
And I’ll open 2023 in prayer
that my Lord will more fully open my heart
to His open arms.

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December 25, 2022

King of Uncommon Love

“Let earth receive her King.”

King of Uncommon Love

Where are the humble kings?
Those who do nothing
     but what their father tells them to do?
Where are those who set aside power
who leave glory
who serve
who wash the feet
     of friend and foe
who wear sandals
who cook fish on the shore
who feed multitudes
     with a few fish and rolls
who change water to wine
    for wedding guests
who walk with, feed, and touch
    those deemed unclean
who spend time
    with those others shun
who come not to judge,
     but to save
who give their lives for their people.
Where is a King of uncommon love?
Look to a manger.
Look to a cross.
Then come.
Come,
     let us adore Him.

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December 23, 2022

2022 Bomb Cyclone Christmas (to the tune of White Christmas)

Prelude:
     The wind is howling,
     as temps dip low
     and birdfeeders whirl and weave.
     Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.
     We’re hosting here, I believe.

     But we’ve a Bomb Cyclone
     on our hands,
     and it threatens to wreck our plans.

We’re dreaming of a white Christmas,
but not quite like the one on tap
where each wind gust threatens
to hurl its weapons
and blues fill our weather map.

We’re dreaming of a white Christmas,
with fam’ly here tomorrow night.
We have lots of yummies
to fill our tummies,
but safe travel’s not in sight.

We’re dreaming of a white Christmas
but winds are sweeping off the snow
‘til no treetop glistens.
White-out conditions
make car travel a no-go.

We may not have a white Christmas,
but we have power on inside.
Water pipes did not burst.
It could be much worse,
so we’ll take it all in stride.

Still hoping Christmas Eve happens
and safely we can gather here
for some much sought-after
food, fun, and laughter,
and we can spread some Christmas cheer!

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

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