Beauty

Beauty

It isn’t my thing,
the glaring sun against sand
‘neath cloudless blue sky.

Sand beneath my feet
and waves washing shells ashore
hold little appeal.

Give me falling snow;
leaves crunching beneath bike tires;
charitable eyes.

There is no beauty
in the pearly white smile that
gleams self-interest.

Now this is beauty:
Jesus, gentle and lowly,
showing us His way.

Let me see Jesus
in your face; hear Him in the
song your kindness sings.

May He teach me how
to sing tender notes, and may
you hear Him in me.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

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March 16, 2025

Eye of the Beholder

Eye of the Beholder

Some of the most
physically gorgeous
sincere
generous
intelligent
strongest
kindest women I know —
women I have the privilege of loving
and being loved by —

scream.

Not with their voices

but with their color
covering
accent
mother tongue.

They scream,
Foreigner!
Criminal!
Unsafe!
Unwelcome!

The beautiful truths in their hearts
are misperceived.
They are viewed as ugly lies
in the eyes of the listeners
who hear only what they are told
to hear.

If only you knew them.
If only you were willing
to spend time
communicating
communing
sharing food
exchanging smiles
searching their eyes
tracing their hearts
experiencing their generosity,

your hate and fear would
shut up
shut down.

Your heart and home would
open
expand
make way.

You would hear not screams, but
intelligent ideas
endearing emotions
liberal benevolence
soothing sentiments

and you would do anything in your power
to protect their lives and their hearts,
and protect your relationship with them.

Anything.

© Marie Elena Good 2025

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December 15, 2024

Perusing Currier and Ives

Perusing Currier and Ives

I scroll images, pausing at those singing nostalgia to me. Pausing at the ones representing a simple splendor that’s long passed. Pausing to get lost in the films they spark in my mind’s eye. Pausing to play in the snow. Pausing to gaze into scenes of serenity and similarity. Pausing simply to

pause.

And, perhaps,
this is precisely the point.

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

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July 21, 2024

PREFERENCES

Spring Blooms photo credit Keith R. Good

Preferences

I prefer water
falling, or babbling in brooks,
to crashing on shore.

I prefer my sun
filtered through dense forest pines.
The air I breathe, chilled.

I prefer trees dressed
in fall leaf, winter white, and
spring pastel blossom.

I prefer my sweets
whisper, never scream. Infer.
Teach my buds to taste.

I prefer poems
short. Simple. Unpretentious.
Teeming with meaning.

I prefer poem
to novel. Rain song to rap.
Bird song for play list.

I prefer my eyes
open to seeing the good.
Closed to finding fault.

I prefer voices
softly smoothing sharp judgements
and callous replies.

I prefer humble
to haughty. Natural to
embellished. Modest.

I prefer cozy
to large. Simple to stately.
Relaxed, and restful.

I prefer colors
sparsely vibrant, interspersed
in tranquil setting.

I prefer dancing
leaf shadows on my walls to
swanky wallpaper.

I prefer shadows
(sometimes) to that which casts them.
(Art of creation)

I prefer my love’s
letters on small sticky notes
to grand sky writing.

I prefer my home
and my husband to any
-where, and anyone.

I prefer bridges
to walls. Pathways to highways.
Left ajar to locked.

I prefer the truth
even when you think I won’t.
Even when it hurts.

I prefer Jesus,
gentle and lowly. King. Christ.
Forgiver of sins.

I prefer my God’s
still small voice that compels me
to be still, myself.

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2024

I wrote three of these seventeens previously

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June 23, 2024

THE VIEW FROM HER EYES

My stunningly beautiful daughter. Photo by Steve Gertz

She sees through eyes that close,
that nobody knows how to fix.
And politics says there aren’t
enough of her to fund a cure.

At one time, she was functionally blind;
mostly confined to her bed and
stuck inside her unwell head.

And though she tries,
it’s hard to be strong
when you long for the life
you once viewed as fate,
but now fear is too late.

She has multiple diagnoses.
Some fell away. Some chose to stay.
They, the predator. She, the prey.

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

#mentalillness
#schizoaffective
#multiplepersonalitydisorder
#lymedisease
#anaplasmosis
#blepharospasm
#meigesyndrome

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May 27, 2024

Untitled

Sometimes the beauty
Lies as much in the shadows
As in what casts them.

#seventeenineighteen

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January 29, 2023

HOW TO RECOGNIZE YOURSELF

How to Recognize Yourself

In somewhat of a hurry, she quickens her steps. Her eyes shift right as her side vision catches a glimpse of scurried movement in a store window.  In what seems like a nanosecond, her eyes are looking ahead of her again.  Just like that, her pace slows drastically, as her eyes again shift right in a nearly imperceivable attempt to pull themselves together.  “No,” they try to convince themselves, “that is not her.  That is not us.”  She allows herself to come to a full stop.  She turns to face the window, to stare into those eyes that betray her.  The woman staring back at her has sparse brows, and even sparser lips.  Her shoulders droop, negating the fact that she feels erect.  Her upper arms sag.  She wears sensible shoes.  She doesn’t know what the big hurry was.

Eyes search for signs of
former beauty.  Christ reminds  
us, we are His bride.

© Marie Elena Good, 2023

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April 14, 2021

A Walk in Mid-April

We walk around the park’s pond,
eyeing mallards and geese,
clear blue skies.
Tree blossoms of white, pink, and purple
dapple sunlight on the greening grass
and manmade path at our feet.

Lilacs scent the breeze,
as does the pleasing sound of
improving English
from my brave and delightful friend.
She speaks of her sweet/smart girls,
(the youngest of which, with her large dark eyes and
dark golden curls, holds tight her momma’s hand,
and her little bag of chips),
Syrian war,
and lost and scattered family.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April PAD Challenge: Day 14 – Writer’s Digest (Day 14: Write a “from where you’re sitting” poem.)

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