UNTITLED SENRYU
In these darkest times,
a healing light always shines.
The Son has risen.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
pictured words
a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
November 1, 2020
October 25, 2020
NEVER HAVE I EVER
Never Have I Ever
is a party game, where one says,
“Never have I ever ___.”
(fill in the blank)
Those who have actually done that thing
lose a point.
Out of points? Out of game.
I’ll go first.
Never have I ever
seen early-voting lines,
let alone those that extend for blocks,
for days.
Now, how many of you are still in the game?
Truth is,
it’s not a game.
The stakes are high.
The views, dissimilar.
What do you see in the distance?
Hope?
Fear?
A kinder country?
Loss of freedoms?
Peace?
Chaos?
Don’t answer that. Because,
you know,
never have I ever
witnessed a greater loss
of kindness and respect
in discussions.
But, there is a vanishing point
where the look-back perspectives align.
Then we will see, and smile
at the vanity of it all.
In the greater distance, I see
celestial shores.
No lines needed.
We will know for the first time
what it actually feels like to be united.
To have no doubts in our King’s
kindness, love, and justice.
We will know for the first time
what it actually feels like
to be equal children
of the Living God.
To be home.
Never have I ever
longed more deeply
for a non-foreign Shore.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
October 20, 2020
BERNIE HARRIS, July 13, 1952 – October 20, 2020
Catching Bernie in 17 syllables of 5/7/5:
Your playful thank yous
Your throw-your-head-back laughter
Your joy in Jesus
❤
Bernie, it was a pleasure knowing you all these years. You taught so many of us how to be appreciative of every little thing, and that our joy is wholly in Jesus. My heart sings for you, knowing you are now with Him … freed from the body that trapped you.
October 18, 2020
THE BLOB
The Blob was unearthed
in the year of my birth.
It debuted the iconic McQueen.
Still, I’ve not seen a scene
on the cinema’s screen.
(I’ve an awkwardly fragile fright gene.)
But the theme song is neat –
it is hip and upbeat.
For a ‘horror’ble soundtrack, a feat!
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
In case you are interested, here is a link to the theme song. And yes, I feel old! 😀
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=theme+song+from+the+blob&docid=608056112507847468&mid=E4288864AB1DBA1089BBE4288864AB1DBA1089BB&view=detail&FORM=VIRE
October 11, 2020
OCTOBER’S SLICK TRICK
Love autumn with all of my all,
‘cept the end of October’s curveball:
Don’t mean to be mean,
but don’t like Halloween!
(Please don’t spook me or trick me, y’all.) 😉
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
October 8, 2020
VP DEBATE, 2020
This debate was more civil than first.
But responses seemed vague and rehearsed.
Though some orderliness was restored,
Many questions were simply ignored.
Undecideds, I’d just like to ask:
Did you learn who is up to the task?
Or perhaps you just think it’s a crime
that the fly did not get equal time. 😉
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
October 4, 2020
(COUGH, COUGH)
My first job, at The Niles Bank,
I worked between two men who smoked.
The office held a haze that stank.
I wanted to speak up, but choked.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
September 27, 2020
HANDS I USED TO HOLD
I grasped Mom’s finger –
stared into her loving eyes –
my first breath of air.
As a child, always
held her hand to cross the street
and for bedtime prayer.
Sometimes as a teen
I would grasp her hand as we
walked on Naples’ beach.
Elderly, and soon
to pass, she gripped my hands as
though to save herself
as sensation of
falling overtook her, and
she needed grounding.
An honor to hold
dying hands of one who held
my hands in her womb.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
September 20, 2020
Two Sisters in Three Chapters
Chapter 1. Rain.
The day I was born,
it rained hard on my sister …
submerging her soul.
Chapter 2. Wombs.
Her first pregnancy’s
uniqueness dimmed, when I found
myself pregnant, too.
Pregnant together
again. A son for me. A
tragic loss for her.
Simultaneous
third pregnancies perhaps seemed
a cruel joke, to her.
Chapter 3. Lost and Found.
In thirty-five days,
we lost Mom and Dad, and found
a common heartache.
In thirty-five days,
we lost Mom and Dad, and found
shared grief is shared love.
In thirty-five days,
we lost Mom and Dad, and found
a needed sister.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
September 13, 2020
As Awkward as Two on an Elevator
He says hi there;
she says hello.
“Which floor?” he asks.
She doesn’t know.
His finger waits,
then starts to tap.
Her face turns red.
She thinks, “Oh crap.
Why can’t I think?
Just pick a floor!”
Her brain congeals.
He taps some more.
“Just. Pick. A. Floor.”
That thought now slips
from clotted brain
through tense, pursed lips.
With sideways glance
and impish smirk,
he presses 12.
(Joker? Or Jerk?)
Long, silent ride
can’t end too soon.
It seems to take
all afternoon.
She ruminates
entire ride,
should parting words
be kind? Or snide?
She isn’t sure
how this should end –
Just like my awkward
poem, my friend.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
pictured words 