pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

PTSD

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Eighteen years later,
some don’t need a reminder.
How can they forget?

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

PIGLET, ESPECIALLY

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Photo credit:  Eric Mavis

It was said that Rabbit is made
of important things.
Piglet said, “Rabbit has brain,”
and, “Yes, Rabbit is clever.”
And that may be.
Yes, that may be.
But our smidgen-y Piglet is made
of weighty things –
nearly all of him being empathy
and oh-such-friendness
and how-can-I-helpness.
As Eeyore said
on that blustery day,
“Mind you don’t get blown away,
little Piglet. You’d be missed.”
And when you are missed,
you are weighty, indeed.

Christopher Robin’s friends
show us how to be ourselves
among others.
Being ourselves among others is
an important thing.

A weighty thing.

A Piglet-and-Pooh-and-Rabbit-and-Roo,
and Kanga-and-Eeyore-and-Tigger-and-Owl,
and love-me-for-me-and-I’ll-love-you-for-you,
significant, super-salubrious thing.

And so, little girl with your Piglet in tow,
be yourself as you grow,
and let others be so.
And when you’ve outgrown
your sweet childhood ways,
please hold Piglet at heart
for the rest of your days.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

I’ll Wanna Go Back!

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Image from TBDBITL.OSU.EDU

The following poem is inspired by, and to the tune of, “I Wanna Go Back to Ohio State!

I was born near the good ‘ole Ohio State
in old Columbus town.
It’s been sixty years, and I’ve not stepped
inside The Shoe, but oh I’ve kept
that stadium on my bucket list –
I surely can’t resist!
It’s one of just two
of things I must do
O-H-I-O!

O-hiiiii-o!
O-hiiiii-o!
Your band is unsurpassed! (O-H!)
Your football team, unmatched! (I-O!)
O-hiiiii-o!
O-hiiiii-o!
This weekend I will see my Buckeyes “live!”
And I’ll make sure there’s not one nanosecond missed!
And when I’m home I’ll put you
right back on my bucket list!
O-hiiiii-o!
O-hiiiii-o!
You know you’ll go back on my bucket list!

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

This weekend, I look forward to scratching off the first of only two items on my “bucket list” … Go to Ohio Stadium (AKA The Shoe) to experience THE Ohio State University Buckeyes football team and marching band (AKA TBDBITL!)!

The only thing that would make it better is if Dad was with us.  Love and miss you terribly, Dad.  High five GO BUCKS!

I Hear You

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Photo by Keith  R. Good

The song of love
when your eyes go soft.
Questions that beg response
in the furrow of your brow.
Curses
in the setting of your jaw.
Sincere contrition
in your entire countenance.
Lines from Moonstruck
in the sudden glint of your eye
and grin of your lips.
“You look good,”
in the slight lift of one brow.
More clearly than your voice,
I hear your face.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

FOUND POEM

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The yellow stickies
with black ink I love yous, are
poetry enough.

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2019

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

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Don’t like my string cheese stringy.
Don’t care for fishy fish.
Don’t want this squash-y thingy
that’s squishing in my dish.
I’ll take my eggplant scrambled, please,
with not-too-toasty toast.
I feel so sad for black-eyed peas,
and for the poor shanked roast.
My coffee grounds me just enough
to move on with my day,
but navigating it’s still tough.
Will curds show me the whey?
You’re nuts about my pecan pie,
but beef about my stew.
And I just chuckle, and here’s why:
It’s so fun ribbing you.  😉

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

SUMMER FAIR

“Let’s rhyme,” he says, and so I do
of summer fairs and barbeque,
with marching-band parades uptown,
and small-town smiles all around.
The carny folk that drew you in
with big stuffed prizes you could win,
but off you’d go with some cheap toy
you’d carry home, but not enjoy.
Yet nonetheless, you’ll reminisce,
and I will guarantee you this:
That you will wish you were still there:
that child at the summer fair.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

MY LORD AND MY GOD

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Photo by Keith R. Good

When I breathe my last
I will see You face to face,
and life will begin.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

PARTNER IN RHYME

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It is no small thing
to call yourself a poet.
Thanks to you, I do.

MOM (a tribute)

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I.
You told me of the love in my eyes for you
when you first held me in your arms
the day I was born.
Is it any wonder.
I knew you, and had already experienced
the gentle warmth that was you.

II.
All my friends thought me the luckiest girl
to be able to call you mom,
even though you didn’t tolerate misbehavior
or disrespect. They saw the love right through
the discipline.  I tried to emulate you,
but it seems that isn’t the same as
it being a part of who you are.

III.
I saw how the mention of you
brought warm smiles.
Your gentle demeanor,
laughter, and love
were contagious.

IV.
I understand being an introvert,
and I ponder with amazement
how you dealt with that part of you.
You could have written a “how to,”
I believe. I understand more and more
the sacrifices you made.
The way you encouraged others,
and always had a kind word to offer.
The way you treated everyone
with the same level of respect.
Fiercely loyal to those you were closest to,
in ways that had to have been draining.
But we didn’t see that you were drained.
You would simply go “rest [your] back
for a few minutes,” or “rest [your] eyes.”

V.
You were my moral compass,
and still are.  I feel your nudges.
I hear your gentle voice. I pray
I inherited more of you
than I see in myself.
From womb to death,
and now beyond,
I thank God for the blessing
of you.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019