Feel the warmth (Hygge)
Trust sweater season
to have warm conversation
and hot chocolate.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
pictured words
a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
November 8, 2022
November 7, 2022
Untitled Hygge
Snuggle with a sleepy story
under a thick layer
of quiet.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2022
November 6, 2022
Kettle (Hygge)
Steam from the kettle
tells its story of comfort
on my cold window.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2022
November 4, 2022
In the Far Reaches
Deanna’s cutie camel, all tuckered out
WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 4. Write an “In the (blank )” poem
In the Far Reaches
There’s currently nine
and a half-hours’ time diff’rence
between her and me.
I use what seems nine
checking the clock to reckon
what time it is, there.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
November 3, 2022
A Misguided Poem
WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 3. Write a misguided poem
A Misguided Poem
When this poem saw
its writer, it counted on
seventeen syllab
-les
© Marie Elena Good 2022
November 2, 2022
Untitled
WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 2. Write a sweet poem.
I prefer my sweets
to whisper, not scream. Infer.
Teach my buds to taste.
© Marie Elena Good 2022
November 1, 2022
“Asking for a friend.”
WD November Chapbook Challenge. Day 1. Write a beginning poem, or an ending poem
“Asking for a friend”
Dear fellow persons,
When did handwritten letters
become an art form?
Birthday greetings change
from carefully picked cards, to
instant facebook posts?
Did spelling our words
become an imposition
on us? idk.
When did we mutate
from people people, to mere
convenience junkies?
Have we managed to
make effortlessness a god
of our own doing?
A god that will bring
us to our knees when we see
it filched our intents
made us its robots
robbed us of our humanness
made us drop our
love.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
October 2, 2022
Gale
I’m not observant.
You’d be amazed at how much
blows over my head.
I’m like memes that say
“I was today years old when”
I fin’lly noticed ‘this’.
It often seems like
thoughts swirl around in my brain,
but can’t seem to land.
And obvious things
don’t click … until they do. Like
Dorothy’s last name.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2022
September 18, 2022
PLEASE, NO MORE AFTERS
A Ukrainian student,
who speaks nearly no English,
brings a map and photos
to class.
The map shows her home,
and its proximity to Russia.
Her quivering finger moves across it
showing us her escape route.
Border-to-border, across Ukraine.
Romania.
Germany.
The U.S.A.
She moves from photo to photo.
“Our central park.”
Before,
and after.
“Capitol building.”
Before,
and after.
Her house,
out of photo’s view by centimeters,
“here,” her finger rests.
The building in view,
demolished.
Her house?
Likely an “after.”
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
#apictureisworthathousandwords
#prayforUkraine
September 18, 2022
PONDERINGS
Smacks of death, say some.
But I smell Mom’s pies. Hear Dad’s
marching band pre-games.
Feel crisp air against
my sometimes still-a-bit-tanned-
from-summertime skin.
Marvel at the sky’s
puffy white and charcoal clouds
in deep blue setting.
Relish the jewel-tones
gradually gracing trees,
begging wonderment.
Enjoy leaves crunching
beneath the tires of my bike,
or cute-boot-dressed feet.
Experience leaves
raked in a pile over my
head, then jumping in.
Savor the taste of
a hardy stew with biscuits,
or bowl of chili.
Memories bring smiles,
like the Robbins Avenue
Pizza (a rare treat),
enjoyed on our porch
after walking home from a
nighttime football game.
Smacks of death, say some.
But my senses are filled with
what I’ve fallen for.
© Marie Elena Good, 2022
pictured words 