WIST(eria )FUL

Photo by Keith R. Good
Lord give me eyes
that note gentle lavenders
among desolate grays.

Photo by Keith R. Good
Lord give me eyes
that note gentle lavenders
among desolate grays.

She doesn’t fit the image in your head –
The one my title planted in your brain.
She’s quilted patchwork, fondly stitched bedspread.
She’s warmly welcomed gently falling rain.
She’s selfless soul and kindness above all.
Her prayers are like symphonic rays of sun.
When help is needed, she’s the one to call –
She’ll set distress aside for anyone.
Her nights are filled with terrorizing dreams;
Her days besieged with raging drug demands.
While patchwork stitches strain along the seams,
Her trembling heart is placed in Jesus’ hands.
If you are without sin, then cast your stone.
But He? He will not let her stand alone.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017

Don’t judge anyone
Until you’ve walked in their shoes
As long as they have.

Tired of news that
breaks
leaks
tweets
reeks
harms
arms them
imperils us
ends thus.
#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

Photo credit: Wildschuetz at pixabay.com
May we learn by heart
that live is three quarters love
and one quarter “I.”
#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

Photo by Keith R. Good
just once
catch first glint of dawn
chase rise and fall
of moon and sun and sigh
#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts
Tell me again
how You parted
the waters
that threatened my soul
to sink.
Remind me
the healings
when reeling
from lie’s ink;
death’s brink.
Retell the hell
from which
you snatched my feet.
Unseat untruth
I tell my past.
I ask, let’s talk
of solid rock
that drenched the earth
and quenched
my thirst.
Recall for me
the blood-soaked tree –
the guarantee
you set me free
from me.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017

Bleeding Heart Photo by Deanna Marie Metts
I used to think I knew the God I know.
But over time, I’ve come to know Him more.
More intimately close than long ago,
I’ve learned more of this Heart I can’t ignore.
In part, I’ve come to recognize my sin
As more egregious than I had before.
This veil of righteousness is wispy thin,
For I am but a sinner at my core.
The realization of the heart of God,
Whose love spilled blood for even such as I
(A seemingly good woman, deeply flawed),
Just makes me long to praise and glorify
The One who drew me to Him as a child,
In whom I’ve grown remarkably beguiled.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017

Photo by Keith R. Good
words crack open
some willingly
spilling
some win-
some
some wince-
some
some pester
and fester
some swoon
in moonlit sky
and wonder
why
she’s deaf
to their cry
© Marie Elena Good, 2017