I ignored your advances. I made you beg my pardon, while you strained to gain my affection … but I couldn’t encourage candor. No, not when you meant to lead me to altars and vows, and expected to hear me say I do, while my panic clearly cried I don’t love you. © Marie Elena Good, 2022 Inner poem reads: pardon, but I meant to say I love you (Disclaimer: While most of my poems are based on my life and thoughts, this one is completely fabricated.)
uncompromised love
articulated by a
silent, empty tomb
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April Poem-a-Day Challenge at Poetic Asides (Day 3: Write a Communication poem).
Words may speak comfort
to the wounded. But, more so,
a shoulder. A tear.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
In response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2021 April Poem-a-Day Challenge at Poetic Asides (Day 3: Write a Communication poem).
Image from Pixabay by Gordon Johnson
Until they are brought
together to speak, they’re just
twenty six letters.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
This is an age of unbroken connection.
Our fingertips tap into instant links.
We’ve little tolerance for imperfection,
And as our ego grows, our goodwill shrinks.
And in this age of unbroken connection,
Our face-to-face relationships have waned.
Resulting loss of physical affection
May render us emotionally maimed.
Now suddenly a time of social distance
Is thrust upon us necessarily.
Most look for ways to be of some assistance,
And find these ways, extraordinarily.
I’m thankful in this time of social distance
For God, who binds my drifting heart to His.
Our Father God pursues us with persistence.
Be still, and let Him show you who He is.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Quick note: My last three lines include words and truths from scripture, and from a long-loved hymn, as follows:
“Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” by Robert Robinson includes the phrase of prayer, “Bind my wandering heart to thee.”
The Bible overflows with God’s pursuit of us, including Psalm 139.
Psalm 46:10 tells us, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
Photo by Keith R. Good
The song of love
when your eyes go soft.
Questions that beg response
in the furrow of your brow.
Curses
in the setting of your jaw.
Sincere contrition
in your entire countenance.
Lines from Moonstruck
in the sudden glint of your eye
and grin of your lips.
“You look good,”
in the slight lift of one brow.
More clearly than your voice,
I hear your face.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
PHOTO BY KEITH R. GOOD
She fights to connect.
Even her thoughts are wordless,
she says. And I nod
as if I can grasp
telepathically , and
put music to it –
noting nuances
in tune with fluent fretting –
non-verbal vetting
of elusive words
she only needs for we who
don’t speak her spirit.
© Marie Elena Good
Oh the feasts that we would eat –
Grandma’s stuffing can’t be beat!
Turkey carved and on display,
Guesses on “what does it weigh?”
Yams and hams and pumpkin pies,
And (to figures’ great demise}
Aunt Peg’s “Goop,” and Mom’s cheesecake.
Hopeful leftovers to take!
TV playing football games,
Watched by mostly men named James.
Conversations, hugs, and laughs.
Later-treasured photographs.
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
P.S. Once-upon-a-time, there were so many men/boys named James in our family, it became a running joke. Grandpa, 2 uncles, Dad, and two cousins (one nicknamed Punk)! 😀
Photo by Keith R. Good
“Hearing is Not the Same as Listening” ~ Sarah Elizabeth (my young, wise, single-mom cousin)
Grunts, yelps, shrieks,
laughs, and cries
are Kenzie’s only tools of communication.
But this morning was different.
This morning, as Sarah readied the children for school,
the pattern of Kenzies “noise” sounded suddenly familiar.
All preparations halted, as Sarah began to sing
lines from a Veggie Tales movie.
Kenzie made eye contact.
EYE CONTACT.
Then Sarah and Kenzie began alternating lines.
No one has heard Kenzie utter a word in years.
Yet all this time she has been singing, unnoticed.
And now Sarah will sing with Kenzie
a hundred times in an hour
if that’s what she wants.
In the cacophony of life,
listen
and hear
cadence,
harmony,
and even dissonance.
For sometimes a solo
hungers for harmony.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
pictured words 