Albatross
Photo by Johann Van der Linde on Pexels.com
Term Two (a Tricube)
It feels like
quicksand, but
it isn’t.
We may be
in too deep
to get out,
but we can
still stand up
for what’s right.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
Robert Lee Brewer’s April 2025 PAD
This form is a Tricube: 3 stanzas of 3 lines of 3 syllables
Life’s View from My Recliner
The chair Mom rocked me in when I was a baby,
and when I wasn’t ready for her to stop.
The chair from which Grandma would flash that playful grin at me,
holding out the adorable ceramic kitten she would let me hold,
as long as I was in her lap. (That kitten is now mine.)
Decorative pillows Deanna brought home from Nepal for me
that now enjoy both my mom’s and my grandma’s touch.
The Tiffany-style lamp Dad turned from gas to electric,
and that now throws rainbows across my floor and onto my walls
and that sits atop the chess table he made
and the box that holds the wooden chess pieces.
The African violets started by my father-in-law.
They received the best upbringing, as he stroked and spoke to them.
Large windows that let in sun’s cheer, even as the scenes change
outside them. Visitors that grace those scenes …
colorful, talkative birds; various kinds of squirrels; chipmunks; deer;
delivery trucks that had halted during the pandemic;
moms and dads and grandparents pushing strollers or walking dogs;
children riding bikes;
the love of my life cleaning the gutters before tonight’s expected storm.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
Robert Lee Brewer’s April 2025 PAD
Day 2 prompt: From where I sit
Dear all:
The first time I was eligible to vote, I registered as a democrat. I proudly/excitedly/confidently voted for Jimmy Carter. In the very next election, I registered republican to vote (shaking in my shoes) for Ronald Reagan. For much of my life, I’ve considered myself a conservative republican. After my party went too far right for me, and the democrats too far left, I haven’t known how to politically label myself. I have always voted my conscious – I have never been a party-line voter. I am, and always will be, a follower of Jesus Christ.
But in this time we are in, I am democrat. Not because I agree with everything they think and do. Not because I have seen them accomplish all they say they are about (because I haven’t, because they haven’t). But because I see them as the only path to restoring our checks and balances in this America I already no longer recognize.
In this time we are in, I am American. I am Ukrainian, Syrian, Lebanese, Haitian, Afghani, Iranian, Iraqi, Sudanese, Somalian, Canadian, Burundian, Mexican, Peruvian, Cuban, Brazilian, Nicaraguan, Venezuelan … you get the picture.
In this time we are in, I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I am Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, Buddhist, Shinto …
In this time we are in, I am female. I am male. I am straight. I am lesbian, gay, bi, trans, queer, she, he, they …
In this time we are in, I am a citizen of the United States of America. I am a refugee, a parolee, an asylee. I am legal, illegal, undocumented …
In this time we are in, I am innocent. I am guilty, convicted, chained, and imprisoned.
Why do I say I am all these, when clearly I am not?
When Jesus’s feet were on this earth, He showed love and compassion for all. Yes, He stood for righteousness. He didn’t waiver from purity and holiness, and He encourages us to do the same (though it is impossible for us). He was sinless in His thought life. He was sinless in His behavior. He was all-loving, all-just, wholly compassionate, wholly empathetic, and (please hear this), He was sinless in His compassion and empathy. It is in large part why He came.
As a follower of Jesus, it is my duty and my privilege to honor with dignity and compassion every person ever created. We are all created in the image of God. It is His way. It is what He flawlessly demonstrated, and will do so eternally.
May He help me … help my country … be more like Him.
With all sincerity,
Marie Elena
Remember When
you were a child, afraid
of trying something new
balking at the color
texture
odor
untrusting of where it came from
afraid it might hurt you
even though some you know
and even trust
happily partook regularly
and encouraged you
just try it.
Remember when
you thought about a sample
just a tiny one
and thought perhaps it might not be
as risky as you feared
and in fact maybe
it might be tolerable.
Remember when
you matured enough
to actually test those waters
and found them to be okay
and maybe even appealing
and maybe even begged
another try
and then you discovered
you loved it
and that you even felt better
when you had it as a regular
maybe even daily
part of your sustenance
and did everything you could
to make sure it was right here
where it could fill you up.
And maybe I’m not talking about food.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
#welcomethestranger
“I am”
It is a small book –
just seventy-five pages
cover to cover.
As the pages turn,
the voices of brave women
speak in harmony
using a language
they did not grow up speaking;
now trying to learn.
Here, they’ve been given
the opportunity to
escape grave danger.
Their stories speak of
the safety afforded them
here in the U.S.
They came here via
invitation. Legally.
and “through the front door.”
And though they miss home,
they “know” they are safe. Some for
the very first time
in their entire life.
They enrich our lives with their
smiles and love.
They pay their taxes.
They obey our laws. They are
happy to be here.
But there is a “but.”
The safety they felt sure of
when they wrote, “I am”
swiftly disappeared.
From one semester of school
to the next, it’s gone.
The front door has slammed.
Families are being shoved
out through the back door.
Insecurity
is gripping them once again.
We’ve become lawless.
They’ve become victims
of we who invited them,
then pointed fingers
shouted “criminal!”
and decided they are a
danger to our lives.
We have no reason.
They have no recourse.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
Beauty
It isn’t my thing,
the glaring sun against sand
‘neath cloudless blue sky.
Sand beneath my feet
and waves washing shells ashore
hold little appeal.
Give me falling snow;
leaves crunching beneath bike tires;
charitable eyes.
There is no beauty
in the pearly white smile that
gleams self-interest.
Now this is beauty:
Jesus, gentle and lowly,
showing us His way.
Let me see Jesus
in your face; hear Him in the
song your kindness sings.
May He teach me how
to sing tender notes, and may
you hear Him in me.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
.
Eye of the Beholder
Some of the most
physically gorgeous
sincere
generous
intelligent
strongest
kindest women I know —
women I have the privilege of loving
and being loved by —
scream.
Not with their voices
but with their color
covering
accent
mother tongue.
They scream,
Foreigner!
Criminal!
Unsafe!
Unwelcome!
The beautiful truths in their hearts
are misperceived.
They are viewed as ugly lies
in the eyes of the listeners
who hear only what they are told
to hear.
If only you knew them.
If only you were willing
to spend time
communicating
communing
sharing food
exchanging smiles
searching their eyes
tracing their hearts
experiencing their generosity,
your hate and fear would
shut up
shut down.
Your heart and home would
open
expand
make way.
You would hear not screams, but
intelligent ideas
endearing emotions
liberal benevolence
soothing sentiments
and you would do anything in your power
to protect their lives and their hearts,
and protect your relationship with them.
Anything.
© Marie Elena Good 2025
Maternal Strength (Mother of Exiles)
Her light, once shining full and bright,
now dim from weeks-long dark of night.
Her eyes glimpse loss of prized allies.
Tear-flooded eyes say their goodbyes
to those once-welcomed, now in throes
of deportation, unopposed.
“Rise up!” She pleads, “to stop this man
who’s changed our core in six-weeks’ span.”
Maternal strength with nurturing spirit,
sing your welcome! Let us hear it!
Shine bright your lamp and wail your plea,
“Send poor and tempest-tossed to me!”
© Marie Elena Good 2025
Title and final line of course inspired by The New Colossus, by American poet Emma Lazarus
AI generated image
In Like a Lion
An apex predator vying for position,
he dons an illegitimate crown
and struts it
around the world stage.
He marks his territory
leaving a stench —
his pride
sniffing rank.
He joins forces with males
who also relish the roar —
none of whom have reached
maturity.
© Marie Elena Good, 2025
Out Like a Lamb (Found in God’s word)
And he said, “Behold
the Lamb of God – He who takes
away the world’s sins.” ~ John, the baptist
“… for I am gentle
and lowly in heart, and you’ll
find rest for your souls.” ~ Jesus, the Christ
“Like a lamb that is
led to the slaughter – so He
opened not His mouth —
Though He had done no
violence, and there was no
deceit in His mouth.” ~ Isaiah, the prophet
© Marie Elena Good, 2025
Untied State of America
Too many are in a state in which to appease this would-be king is a thing. Too many in power cower to the flurry of EOs. And I worry: are we in the throes of war? The doors of our neighbors slam and lock as they balk at what we have become … in one month’s time. A crime. America, loosed from friends who have deduced we are behind this unraveling, is disjointed. We’ve appointed a king, know it or not. Formerly brothers, we are now others in the sight of those who once had our back. They see what we don’t. Or won’t. Their eyes are open to the dulling of the shining city on the hill, while our king is culling our allies at his will.
Your falling isn’t
from the attacks of others,
my country, ‘tis of thee.
© Marie Elena Good, 2025
pictured words 