pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
June 5, 2016

A WEEK IN HAIKU

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Photo by Keith R. Good

 

“… for His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning.”  ~ Lamentations 3

 

Dawn’s light emerges,
Hastening a new week’s cares.
Her knees, eroding.

Vivid moss roses
Flamboyant ruby hummers
Adore(n) her prayer walk

A murky morning.
Gloom seems to silence nature.
A still, small Voice calls.

The sun failed to rise,
She believes.  And so she seeks
Son’s radiant grace.

Unsettling dream
Halted by sound of music
Caroled in her heart

Her heart feels absent;
Her spirit, arid and parched.
A gentle rain falls.

As dusk’s light withdraws,
She reaches out for His hand,
And there, finds her heart.

 

© Marie Elena Good

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June 1, 2016

UNWANTED NEIGHBORS (Diminished Hexaverse)

AJHAWK

PHOTO BY KEITH R. GOOD

The trouble with hawks
Is they  cause trouble.
So when they began
To nest in our oak,
They were not welcome.

Squirrels were here first.
Jays were here first,
As were robins,
And chickadees

And others.
Don’t under-
Estimate

Others.
Hawk nest?

Hawked.

2 Comments
May 29, 2016

RISK

aborto

15 Weeks (photo courtesy of donum-vitae)

the problem with a
botched abortion
is that the baby
is at the risk of being

 

 

 

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May 28, 2016

“Mary” (Entry from the journal of Mary of Magdala)

 

1

This morning
This mourning broke me.
Reality pierced my soul,
Left a gaping hole, with fears
No tears can fill.

This morning
His eyes haunted me,
As I already strained to recall
The implausible love I saw in them
Before the cross.

This morning
I longed to once again see myself –
Me as he saw me –
The me he presented to others –
Instead of the wretch I see in me.

This morning,
In darkness of mood and day,
I made my way to his tomb.
My heart and breath halted
As my eyes assaulted my senses.

This morning
He was gone.
I was even robbed of his lifeless body?
The cruelty of this was agonizing
And my wounds grew deeper still.

This morning
I wept harder and longer and deeper
Than I ever have before –
Not even at the cross, for I was too traumatized
For tears.

This morning
I saw men?  Angels?  Someone – something – angels
At the head and foot where he had lain.
They asked me why I was weeping.
How could I explain such pain?

This morning
I turned and saw a man – the gardener?
He asked me the same question the angels had.
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
Once my closed throat allowed me to speak,
I begged of him, “PLEASE sir, where have you put him?”

“Mary.”

Rabboni!

This morning
Mourning broke.
Light rose from darkness,
Spoke my name,
And I will never be the same.

 

 

©Marie Elena Good

Gospel of John, Chapter 20

Photo credit:  Shutterstock.com

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May 25, 2016

untitled aubade (dawn)

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Photo by Keith R. Good

“Make it dark, make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke.” ~ Josh Whedon

My mind was entombed
In the dark night of my soul.
Then it dawned on me …

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May 25, 2016

BREAK OF DAY (an Aubade)

sunnyside-egg-mold

“Break of Day,” we say –
And let me weigh in on that.

Or not,

For if the scales tip further,
They may break with the day.

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May 23, 2016

PRETEND I PENNED THIS

very_cute_hearts_shapes

PHOTO COURTESY OF LOVABLE IMAGES (lovableimages.blogspot.com)

My lover asks me:
“What is the difference between me and the sky?”
The difference, my love,
is that when you laugh,
I forget about the sky.”*

I sigh.
Forever I’ll yearn to compose,
In verse or prose, for you  my love, and affirmation thereof.
‘til then, let’s kiss
And pretend I penned this.

© Marie Elena Good

* “My Lover Asks Me”  By Nizar Qabbani

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May 22, 2016

BROKEN

08.DescentOfTheDepredatory

“DESCENT OF THE DEPREDATORY” BY DEANNA MARIE METTS

 

Two decades passed
Since liquor last passed my lips.
Past pain eclipsed my gain;
The ache of wounded heart
Returned again to tear apart
My fragile strength.

Now what lengths will I go
To hide the flow of the drink;
Make everyone think I am well?
Well, I’m not.  I’m fraught
With what brought me here.

I can’t disappear.  Couldn’t then
When men, cavalier, had their way –
Reduced me to prey.

Two decades erased
With a taste.
My wholeness now broken,
“Just take me,” unspoken,
While hades trades truth for a snake –
With each sip I take,
I break.

© Marie Elena Good, 2016

“With each sip I take, I break” is actually a partial line from Peaceful Easy Feeling by Walter Wojtanik.

(Not to worry about me, friends.  This is fiction, though sadly loosely based on the plight of someone dear to me and for whom I daily pray.)

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May 18, 2016

UNTITLED RYŪKA FORM

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After school, two five-year-old boys
Hug and cry in the parking lot
As one is moving far away
And how would it be possible
To span that large of a distance
When you are two five-year-old boys
Whose parents are not acquainted
And all there is left to do is
Hold each other and cry

© Marie Elena Good, 2016

Photo credit: Pixabay.com

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May 15, 2016

INVENTION’S FOE (a Sonnetina Tre)

3

Photo credit: shutterstock.com

 

What right have I to claim a poet’s heart?
What write have I inside this heart I feign?
What depth of wisdom have I to impart,
Or story that’s not dreary, nor inane?

Perfectionism is invention’s foe:
Methodically it stalls, then stops me cold.
I want to breathe and let the words just flow –
Exhale a poem exquisite to behold.

My only hope to fight perfection’s sway?
Curl up in something soft at end of day.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2016

6 Comments