pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: All God’s Creation

How I Long to Speak to Comets

Photo by Nikita Grishin on Pexels.com

How I Long to Speak to Comets

He sang the universe
into existence.
An estimated one septillion
stars,
each with a name
given by Him.
Oh, to be bestowed
the voice of an angel
to have sung with Him a star. 
Just one.
And oh, how I long to speak
to comets.
To utter one sound
one note the comets comprehend,
then to soar on their tails,
singing praise to the One
who fashioned us. 

© Marie Elena Good, 2023

The line, “How I long to speak to comets,” comes from poet friend Damon Dean’s A Comet, Green. Damon’s poetry may be found at: https://sevenacresky.com/

RHODODENDRON

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She was planted with care,
right there
where her dark leaves and white flowers
would give hours of joy each day.
But it hasn’t worked that way.

Years have passed
since she last bloomed.
She seemed entombed
immured, as she simply
endured

until Keith dug her up,
changed the makeup below,
which allowed the free flow
of water to root, and
we can’t dispute the wonder.

Once freed from earth’s clay,
we saw growth the first day.
Now she won’t just survive.
She’ll thrive.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

MORNING’S OPEN WINDOW CALLS

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Photo by Keith R. Good

I see and hear the birds, the deer,
the kids that play across the way.
I feel the breeze, and watch the trees react,
and I make eye contact with Chickadee.
I smile as he rests on my sill.
Then I refill my coffee mug,
sit snug and still and know
the golden glow of morning sun,
and glorious One who made it rise
and harmonize with all I see
outside my window;
inside me.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

RETURN TO THE HILLS (Sonnet for My Keith, and Our Little Blue Cabin in Ohio’s Hocking Hills)

 

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How many years have you and I come here
To seek a respite from demands of time?
We listen long as birdsongs echo clear,
From porch swing’s nest, to hills we dare to climb.

We had to leave behind our getaway,
As pressures of life’s urgencies took charge.
This season rendered cabin dreams “someday,”
But pressing needs no longer loom so large.

We’re homebodies (both you and I), and this,
Our quiet cabin nestled in the pines,
Feels so like coming home, it’s simply bliss –
This space where life and harmony align.

I’ve seen these hills with no one else but you.
There’s none with whom I’d rather share this view.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

America’s Solar Eclipse, 2017

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Photo credit:  Eduardo Munoz/Reuters

These States, United,
looked to the heavens, as one
nation under God

 

#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen

The Monument of Liberty State is photographed while the solar eclipse is seen over Liberty State Island in New York, Aug. 21, 2017.  Photo credit:  Eduardo Munoz/Reuters

POSSIBILITIES

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Creation is fluent
in the art of possibilities.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2009

Crayola and Me, 1958

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Photo credit:  Today I Found Out

I began as Flesh,
But only because it was 1958,
And they didn’t yet understand
A white baby may have a tint
Of Raw Sienna.

No understanding that changing Indian Red
To Chestnut is not only untrue,
But negates a child’s ability to learn
That Indian Red describes a pigment native
To India,
And not the skin of a Native American,

Or for that matter, the ability to learn what it meant to be
Prussian.
Was it easier to change Prussian to Midnight,
Than to teach us the blues of history?

And sixteen new colors were added that year, and
When I turned four I was no longer Flesh,
But Peach.
Peach with still no tint,
And no understanding that Peach is not white,
And I am not white, and I am not Peach.

But colors are sharp,
And when the summer sun shines
On sixty four colors left on Grandma’s porch,
They can run together
and
Permanently
Mingle.

© Marie Elena Good

AND IT’S NEVER OKAY

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Bomb or gun
Mass or one

Gay or straight
Hate is hate

Foreign-run
Or homespun

Vain debate
Hate is hate

Deeply flawed
“Under God”

Won’t negate
Hate is hate

 

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2016

Photo from http://www.gmpcc.org.uk/news/stand-together-against-hate-crime/ .