pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

WITH HIGH LEVEL OF ACCURACY, I PREDICT:

Photo by Alex Andrews on Pexels.com

WITH HIGH LEVEL OF ACCURACY, I PREDICT:


As soon as hands are wash-me wet,
my phone will start to ring.

When I am snoozing, you can bet
my phone will start to ring.

The moment we sit down to eat,
my phone will start to ring.

Before my urgent task’s complete,
my phone will start to ring.

The final seconds of the game,
my phone will start to ring.

Car warranty’s good, but all the same,
my phone will start to ring.

About to step in to the bath,
my phone will start to ring.

When I have moved from rile to wrath,
my phone will start to ring.

When I’m with someone, it is known
my phone will start to ring.

The second I put down my phone?
My phone will start to ring.

While pulling up my drive at home,
my phone will start to ring.

When nearly finished with my poem,
my … Sorry.  I need to get this …

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April Poem-a-Day Challenge at Poetic Asides (Day 2: Write a What does the future hold poem).

NO STRANGER, THIS

Image by Jan Steiner from Pixabay

He asked for water.
We’d never seen each other,
and we were alone:

He (a Jewish man)
and Samaritan-woman-
me, knowing my place.

Finding it a bit
amusing, I asked Him why
He asked this of me. 

He spoke in riddle,
“If you knew who was asking,
you’d have asked of Him,

and He’d have given
the gift of living water.”
Then He spoke again

and everything
there is to know about me,
He already knew.

I wasn’t disturbed.
There was nothing unsettling
in His countenance.

There was not a doubt
the gift He offered me was
His for the giving.

I drew His water.
But He? He quenched a thirst I
never knew I had.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April Poem-a-Day Challenge at Poetic Asides (Day 1: Write an introduction poem).

PALM SUNDAY

Image by CKSherrod from Pixabay

She carried her King –
Prince of Peace, and Lord of all,
while suckling her foal.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

“Now when they drew near to Jerusalem and came to Bethphage, to the Mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village in front of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, you shall say, ‘The Lord needs them,’ and he will send them at once.” This took place to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet, saying, “Say to the daughter of Zion, ‘Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.” ~ Matthew 21:1-5

EASIER SAID THAN MUM

Photo by Keith R. Good

She spewed out a detailed confession.
Her friend made a robust suggestion:
Don’t let your mouth gush –
You must learn to hush
when asked a rhetorical question.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

Every little seed

Poland Forest, Poland, Ohio

Bloom confidently.
Even breeze-scattered seed is
rooted by God’s breath.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

NAVIGATING LIFE

Photo courtesy of Shutterstock

Some stare straight ahead.
Some can’t help but gaze behind.
Others, eyes closed, dream.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

#seventeensyllables

MY WRITING SPACE, IN THIS MOMENT

scattered furniture
what used to be here, now there
drop cloths and paint fumes

jazz notes billowing
rollers, brushes, straight edges –
that man God gave me

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

Gray Area

Photo by Skylar Kang on Pexels.com

She was taught to think in black and white.
She sits,
feverishly writing.  Puts down her pencil, and
ponders
the thoughts that made it to paper.  But more so,
how black
the emptied back of her mind now seems. Blank
and white
really, so she fixates on how erasure smudges
make gray.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021
#Waltmarie

Poem within reads:

She sits,
ponders
how black
and white
make gray.

The Waltmarie, created by Candace Kubinec, is a 10-line form of any subject. The even-numbered lines are 2 syllables, and must form their own poem when read separately. The odd-numbered lines are longer, with no syllable count restrictions. 

“Let all that breathe partake”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The nation I call home seems to be in an uphill battle to
love all
who disagree, politically. An underlying prattle rumbling
fiercely,
rattling as intensely as a slithering serpent that can’t help
but speak
its small mind, as it seeks to find petty points that straddle
your truth
and strangle your certainty: callously, maliciously, never-so-
gently.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

*Title phrase from My Country ‘Tis of Thee

Poem within reads:

Love all
fiercely,
but speak
your truth
gently.

__________________________________________
This was my first stab at a brand new poem form, created by Candace Kubinec (Rhymes with Bug). She titled the form Waltmarie, named for Buffalo poet Walter Wojtanik, and me. The honor of this is more thrilling than I can express!

The Waltmarie is a 10-line form of any subject. The even-numbered lines are 2 syllables, and must form their own poem when read separately. The odd-numbered lines are longer, with no syllable count restrictions. That’s it! This new form is loads of fun, but is also quite challenging.

Here is Candace’s new form, with her excellent examples: Waltmarie Poetic Form – rhymeswithbug. Check out other poems in her blog while you are there. She is a talented poet!

Also, Robert Lee Brewer, poetry editor of the Writer’s Digest, highlighted Candace’s new form for his Poetic Form Friday feature on February 12: Waltmarie: Poetic Forms – Writer’s Digest .

Such a thrill … so humbling … so thankful …

NO WORDS FOR MY LOVE

Keith Good

My love for you is deep,
yet my words steep in
tepid water.
No flavor; nothing to savor.
They begin, but fade,
delayed by … what?
A depth I can’t reach,
though I beseech them.
A well with no bucket.
A spell I can’t cast.
My tone, a droning bore.
I wish my words would
soar
surprise
rise

revel

to the level of love.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021