pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
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. 

©  Marie Elena Good, 2022

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December 25, 2022

King of Uncommon Love

Photo by Juan Carlos Leva on Pexels.com

“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.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

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December 23, 2022

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

Photo by Temo Berishvili on Pexels.com


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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December 22, 2022

Don’t ask me how

Photo by Nadezhda Moryak on Pexels.com

Don’t Ask Me How

there are things my brain knows,
but doesn’t tell me.

Or maybe there is a disconnect
between this side of my brain
and the other side.

Like years ago
when I helped a friend bake
potato chip cookies
to take to my cousin later that night.
Somewhere, my brain knew he was
getting work training on the other side
of the country.
But not the part of my brain
helping my friend bake.  That part
might as well have been with my cousin
on the other side of the country.

Or that time in the shower
an hour ago
when I was thinking about
hosting Christmas Eve,
praying the weather holds out
and guests are safe in travel.  Praying
for these guests that are my family –
my daughter and her family
my cousins and their grown kids
and their little children

and the sudden slap of that’s all.

No grandparents.  No aunts and uncles.
No parents. 

Now, that’s us. 

My brain knows this.
It intimately knows this information
that it didn’t share with me
until the shower started searching
for tears.

Don’t ask me how.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

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December 18, 2022

GIFT

GIFT

What is the best gift but food for one who is hungry, and drink for one who thirsts? For those who feel most unlovable, love feels most crucial, yet most inaccessible. For those who’ve done wrong, the most meaningful gift is forgiveness in full.  For this, God set His power aside to be born of a virgin as a helpless newborn boy, reliant on a woman’s breast for nourishment, heart for love, and her tutelage and care for survival and growth.  For this, Christ Jesus came: to feed, to love, to quench, and to fully forgive.  

The extravagance
of the season, embodied:
God wrapped in infant.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

(Full disclosure: I decided to write this haibun, using the final 17 syllables I’d written many years ago. May the Gift of this season settle into your own heart.)

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December 4, 2022

Now, we wait

Painting by Akiane Kramarik

“The world waits for a miracle. The heart longs for a little bit of hope.”  ~ Light of the World, Lauren Daigle

Now, We Wait.

His feet left Paradise to touch earth’s soil 
as we, embroiled in distress,
tried to access His heart.
Some walked with Him, 
and He unlocked their closed souls - 
leaving their lack exposed
and showing them His plenty
in the face of His poverty.  
They learned Him.  They loved Him. 
But the moment He upturned death,
they truly knew Him.
And now, we wait for His return.
We yearn for the Prince of Peace to increase, 
and our anguish, decrease.
Light of the World, right us.
Lift us.  Gift us hearing ears,
seeing eyes, 
and hope, 
realized.  

© Marie Elena Good, 2022


P.S.  I LOVE this painting!
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November 27, 2022

Sky Blue (Crayola color born in 1958, the year of my birth)

Rose Lake Photo credit: Keith R. Good, 2014

Who came to decide
the precise color of sky –
which blue hue, and why?

For the ocean’s sky
on a sunny day, may be
pegged as Robin’s Egg,

while she that adorns
a brisk Erie autumn morn
is a deep, cold blue –

the loveliest hue.
And I’ve clamed her and named her
my October Sky.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

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November 23, 2022

GIVING THANKS while sick for Thanksgiving


This photo is not a well-focused, balanced, artistic photo. It is just my snapshot
of homemade chicken noodle soup, made by my super caring husband.
It is one thing I have to be thankful for while I am sick on my favorite week of the year.
And there are so many others.
My cozy home, with the Christmas tree up, and a comfortable recliner from which to enjoy it.
My soft lavender robe, and just-as-soft tissues for my nose.
A family member who will be doing a Thanksgiving meal “porch drop” for Keith and me,
and other family members who offered the same
and friends and students who have offered food and help and loving words of encouragement
and who check in on me just because they are selfless souls who care deeply
and a doctor able to see me on the same day I called
and insurance to pay the doctor and the medicine
and a comfortable spare bedroom for Keith to sleep in so I don’t keep him awake with my cough
and WhatsApp to keep in touch for free with my daughter in India
and the amazing, gentle care she is receiving for a herniated disc, from grandmotherly women
and doctors making daily home visits to the room she is renting from these women
and the ease of heart it helps me feel while she is there alone and in pain and without my help
and the Father of All who is no less there than He is here
and the vast array of birds and fun critters outside my huge windows that let in all the light
and loving souls in my life who share their beautiful words and prayers and sentiments and lives
and parents who passed on, but left themselves in unspeakable ways right here in my heart
and children who struggle, but l.o.v.e. in all the ways afforded to them, and who I proudly call my own
and granddaughters who give joy in ways I never could have imagined
and their daddy who is not just an in-law to me
and music
and poetry
and books
and life
and Jesus in the nativity beneath my tree, and His saving cross at the top
and the Word of God
and the Lamb of God
and the love of God
and no period, because there is no end




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November 13, 2022

Bonnie

Photo by Jean Alves on Pexels.com

Bonnie

She showed up at the nursing home, waiting to be let in. Of course her chances for entry were near zero, as animals were not welcome. But this pretty golden retriever would not take no for an answer. I don’t know the story of how she actually gained entrance. I can only tell you that by the time my grandmother was in their care, she had already become part of the facility’s staff. We were told that, from her very first moment inside, it seemed like she had just always been there. She knew where everything was. She knew the routine. She knew this was a quiet place, and she abided. She knew when a patient was soon to die. She graciously stayed with them and comforted them until they passed … but not before seeking entry permission from a nurse. She knew her role. This was her life’s work.

I wonder … sometimes,
might we glimpse Eden’s garden
in full bloom, pre-fall

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

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November 9, 2022

The Untimely Demise of the Fall Décor

WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 9.  Write a “blank of the blank” poem

This chub-a-wub, bushy-tailed cutie
who’s embraced his true calling of foodie,
has put the kibosh
on my nice autumn squash,
and reduced my front porch to a nudie.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

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