I’m itchin’ to upgrade, and pitchin’ a fit. For now, I’m afraid, I have zilch to submit. While someone is flippin’ through pages of verse, I want my name there before I’m in a hearse. It’s paltry and petty, this dream I’ve unfurled. But? Improvin’ at versin’ can’t worsen the world. © Marie Elena Good, 2022
“No more pennies,” we
were informed, and we could make
no cents of this change.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
(Hardly a poem, but it was fun to write!)
Never Have I Ever
is a party game, where one says,
“Never have I ever ___.”
(fill in the blank)
Those who have actually done that thing
lose a point.
Out of points? Out of game.
I’ll go first.
Never have I ever
seen early-voting lines,
let alone those that extend for blocks,
for days.
Now, how many of you are still in the game?
Truth is,
it’s not a game.
The stakes are high.
The views, dissimilar.
What do you see in the distance?
Hope?
Fear?
A kinder country?
Loss of freedoms?
Peace?
Chaos?
Don’t answer that. Because,
you know,
never have I ever
witnessed a greater loss
of kindness and respect
in discussions.
But, there is a vanishing point
where the look-back perspectives align.
Then we will see, and smile
at the vanity of it all.
In the greater distance, I see
celestial shores.
No lines needed.
We will know for the first time
what it actually feels like to be united.
To have no doubts in our King’s
kindness, love, and justice.
We will know for the first time
what it actually feels like
to be equal children
of the Living God.
To be home.
Never have I ever
longed more deeply
for a non-foreign Shore.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
“After the Rain” (Made with Love by Leeroy. Life-of-Pix free stock}
She writes her life in third person
Once removed.
In ink or lead or crayon.
Or spoon.
It’s strewn about while she
Remains unmoved.
Someone loved her once, she knows.
No. She knows.
She wrings her wrists
And twists her ring.
Can’t tell you what she ate
Or when.
Or who would ask such a thing.
She also knows this:
Each day is a season
Fused with strife,
Escaping her grasp,
Leaving her gasping
For life.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
pictured words 