pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Baby Jesus

O HUMBLE TOWN OF SPLENDID STAR

Image by Jeff Jacobs from Pixabay

O Bethlehem,
do you know the One you have birthed?
Let the earth rejoice;
raise her voice in song! 
For the long-awaited Christ was born of Mary –
the very woman the angel blessed. 
She feeds the King at her breast,
as angel choirs sing praise,
and a star blazes above you,
O little town. 

No crown for this babe
who is able to save,
and will conquer the grave someday

yet for now, rests in hay –

This Way. 
This Truth. 
This Life.

O Bethlehem …
your star, a royal diadem.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

GIFT

Photo: Marie Elena Good

The best gift of all
Doesn’t come from a sleigh.
No, the best gift of all?
Sacred love, in scant hay.


(c) Marie Elena Good, 2020

CHRISTMAS CARD

Photo credit: Keith R. Good

‘Twas the morning of Christmas,
And Santa was spent,
Having just returned home
From his yearly event.

After taking his shower
And downing his Joe,
He awoke Mrs. Claus
With a sweet kiss hello.

On their loveseat they sat
With the best Book on earth
To read St. Luke’s account
Of the Christ Child’s birth.

“By miraculous means
A young woman conceived,
And the baby she bore
Would save all the deceived,”

“Which includes you and me,”
Santa said, his voice low;
His eyes brimming with tears
From his heart’s overflow.

“And the best gift of all
Doesn’t come from my sleigh.
No, the best gift of all?
Sacred love, in scant hay.”

© Marie Elena Good, 2020







CHRISTMAS’S ONLY PERFECT GIFT

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If one knew not what Christmas was about,
it seems that they’d find little evidence
of Jesus Christ.  Not much to make them doubt
the countless signs of our greed’s eminence.

The season focuses on “perfect” gifts,
beginning in our early childhood.
Our storefronts mostly offer toys and glitz,
all tempting us to spend more than we should.

It’s not that I’m a “humbug.” Truly, not.
But when I’m home from shopping, my heart warms.
My focus shifts from things that I have bought,
to what I wish were more the season’s norms.

A Christmas flag portrays Christ’s holy birth.
A swaddled Baby rests in bed of straw:
This One Who Saves, through whom we have our worth,
Whose sinless life fulfilled for us God’s law.

The manger scene glows warm beneath my tree,
while Santa makes his presence known nearby –
his hat removed, head bowed, on bended knee,
in humble awe.  Let God be glorified!

Let’s celebrate the birth of God’s own Son.
In Him, our full redemption has been won!

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

 

SACRED NIGHT

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In Bethlehem, did silent snow
fall soft upon a crèche,
that holy night when star aglow
announced God in the Flesh?

Although the chances may be slim
snow graced the Christ child’s birth,
it oft adorns Yule’s art and hymn,
as we fête Peace on Earth.

Perhaps it speaks of Spotless Lamb,
on silent, holy night —
Redeeming Gift of Great I Am,
reflecting Love’s Pure Light.

And though I may project snow dreams
on this most sacred eve,
I honor Babe whose love-light beams –
this One whom I believe.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

A WOMAN, CALLED (Second Sonnet to Mary, Mother of God)

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And who would take my word, this pregnant teen,
Who claimed an angel visited my room,
To tell me God Himself had set the scene
To place His Very Son inside my womb?

And how could I say anything but “Yes,
Be done to me according to Your word.”
And how could I be anything but blessed,
When first The Living Word within me stirred.

And how was I to know that God’s own Son
Would start His life inside a feeding trough,
And end on crucifix  (would anyone?),
Exploited, battered, bartered, “crowned,” and scoffed.

And when I think my womb shared blood with God,
Who gave me life? I’m humbled, blessed, and awed.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

HOW SILENT?

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Photo: Marie Elena Good

As cattle low and donkeys bray,
A worried man begins to pray.
“She’s weary, Lord, and birth pains loom,
We need an Inn, but none have room.”
A stable with a bed of hay
Affords them with a place to stay.
 
She lies amongst the bleating sheep –
Where there she finds no peace for sleep.
The hour of our Savior’s birth
Sweet angel voices sing His worth,
While Satan howls – himself, enraged
In knowing that a war’s been waged
A war the Babe Himself will win –
To free us from our senseless sin.
 
Beneath the sacred star-lit night,
How silent was that holy night?
 
 
(C) Marie Elena Good, 2010
 

WHAT GOD IS THIS?

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Nativity by Gertrude Kasebier c 1901

Following the angel’s appearance months ago,
A young woman – mystified, yet willing –

Subjected herself to ridicule

While readying for the baby whose presence

Began making itself evident.
 

Then came the night
On the heels of a long and arduous journey

In humbleness of setting and witness.
 

How prepared was the young woman’s weary body
And emotion-laden heart

For the miracle of birth,
Let alone this Miracle of Birth – this holy night

That culminates in pulling her newborn son to her breast,

Offering life-giving milk

To the very One who created life,

And came to offer it eternal.
 

What God is this who would choose this humble,
Implausible means

Out of love for a sinner?
 

My God.

My God…

 

©  2013, Marie Elena Good