No ‘author’ity
No authority
Abandoned spineless blank leaves
No write to be heard
Photo credit: http://piximggif.com
pictured words
a simple pairing of pictures and poetry
May 3, 2015
CAUGHT UP
She chases each breeze
She sees – hooked, roped, and lusting.
Future storms gusting
Photo credit: earthspacecircle.blogspot.com
May 1, 2015
BURY AN ANGEL
Tell me, please, just how to speak
To pain that dwells within hell’s flames
And taunts a further depth to seek.
(Prayers, please, for a young teen mother who found her two-month-old baby dead in her crib this morning. Prayers also, please, for the pastor of her church, who is in such pain for her that he does not know how to give her any comfort and answer her sobbing pleas of “why?” Just heartbreaking …)
April 30, 2015
Bury my ashes
Bury my ashes.
Don’t have and hold, for the sake
of your next true love.
April 29, 2015
And How Was Your Morning?
It’s been weeks,
so we meet at McDonald’s at 5:30 a.m.
for a hot breakfast,
only we are greeted by a locked door, and a sign:
“sorry for the inconvenience,”
so we spend ten minutes of precious time
searching another location
while others this morning are searching
rubble
for dead loved ones in Nepal.
© Marie Elena Good
April 27, 2015
Hear(t)rending Tragedies
While Nepal suffers
Death not of their own making,
We dig our own grave.
Nepal Earthquake
Baltimore Riots
April 27, 2015
To Shed What Light? (sonnet for a darkened past)
She can’t quite grasp event(s) she feels occurred
That may have cast the pattern of her life.
No clear recall – just senses that are blurred,
Yet sharply pierce her present, like a knife.
Hypnosis could enlighten, she was told –
Could bring to forefront what she had suppressed.
Perhaps what had been quelled could then unfold,
And with it, this foreboding put to rest.
And here am I, unable to convey
My hesitance to urge her in this quest –
When everything inside me wants to say
Some incidents might best remain repressed.
Yes, were my past so dark I could not see,
I would not seize the lamp and turn the key.
Photo credit: http://succube.deviantart.com
April 25, 2015
LANGUAGE AFAR
She used to speak with longing
Of faraway lands,
Of engaging the charmingly unique folks,
Of getting a first-hand sense of their lives abroad.
“But I don’t speak the language”
Always kept her stateside.
She used to speak effortlessly
Of shores she knew only through books.
Slowly, nearly imperceptibly at first,
She noticed words were not
Readily available.
“What’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, yes …”
She began speaking less,
As words needed time to percolate to the surface,
And that took time folks didn’t seem to have.
She eventually quit speaking.
She didn’t know the language.
pictured words 