Photo of March Lake Erie morning sky, by Carrie Wakeman
My Father, may I
ask that as the sun rises,
I may sing for joy.
That as the sun sets,
I will recall each moment
spent in Your presence.
Not just for me. For
all whom the sun, moon, and stars
reflect Your love’s light.
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
Photo by Keith R. Good
darkness fell swiftly
air cooled notably
birds fell silent
awe remains
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
#seventeenintwentyfour
“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.” ~ Psalm 19:1
Photo by Keith R. Good
You may not have guessed, but I can attest that the Midwest is blessed. And might I suggest your quest be to test if I jest in what I’ve expressed, lest your life be suppressed and you end up depressed for your lack of Midwest nest. I’m from the Midwest, and sincerely request that you come be my guest.
And yes, I’m obsessed.
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
1.
I yam mad, you crepe!
You stocked me and stole a quiche.
I artichoke you.
2.
News.
Olive it bad.
Endive got to know,
Who leeked it?
I’ll just wine and stew.
3.
Soda ya think it’s thyme
To pear up and rhyme?
Say where,
I’ll meat you there!
#seventeenineighteen times three!
Though innocent, Jesus was still crucified.
Enormous, the evidence that He had died,
He lives, per the witnesses who testified.
But not just per witnesses back in the day -
I know Him and know that He hears when I pray.
I feel His strong presence along my pathway.
I knew Him before I became a schoolchild.
His unequaled love leaves me awed and beguiled.
All thanks be to Him we’re with God, reconciled.
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
Image by Jeff Jacobs from Pixabay
The science proved to
the many eyewitnesses
that Jesus was dead.
More eyewitnesses
prove historically to us
that Jesus now lives.
#seventeenintwentyfour
This Man had moved her heart in such a way
she spent the tears she shed to wash His feet.
I haven’t known a more sincere display
of love before or since, nor more replete.
An alabaster jar filled with pure nard,
its price, perhaps in wages numbered years.
This girl whose reputation had been marred
anointed Jesus’ feet, ignoring sneers.
This typically was used for entombment.
In just six days, she witnessed Jesus’ death.
Now, we can’t know if that was her intent,
but know God preordained His final breath.
Her tender, humble love for Him moves me.
And what a brave and brimming heart had she.
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
So, armed men to Toledo were sent,
and full war was the solid intent.
But despite the alert,
only one man was hurt,
with poor Michigan left to lament.
Well, this war was as short as this verse.
There was hardly the need for a nurse.
One side kept its realty,
and one got its *U.P.,
with not even a wage to disburse!
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
*U.P. is what they call their Upper Peninsula
I asked the voice of the future to write me a sonnet about AI-generated poetry. In the blink of an eye, a perfectly penned sonnet winked mockingly at me from my screen. Other words that came to mind were impeccable and flawless. I wish I could say it was so perfect it felt scrubbed. But it didn’t. It felt artistic. Creative. And, truth be told, inspired. Using the word inspired to describe an electronically generated poem makes me shudder.
What does it matter
if words flow from warmth of heart?
It matters to me.
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
Some applaud. Some shout disapproval. Some sit, in
silence –
a silence of voice, silence of manner, or what
may be
a silence born of fear. Our voice (our noise) is
used to
swing. And sway. And get our way. And
advance
the plan we believe must be, until we truly see
a cause.
© Marie Elena Good, 2024
The waltmarie uses even lines of two syllables each to create a mini poem within the poem. Though not poetic, here it is:
Silence
may be
used to
advance
a cause.
pictured words 