pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: #fivesevenfive

Blustery (Hygge)

Photo by Vlad Zhuravlev on Pexels.com

blustery out there
but warm in here with my love
welcoming blizzards

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2022

Feel the warmth (Hygge)

Photo by Thirdman on Pexels.com

Trust sweater season
to have warm conversation
and hot chocolate.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

In the Far Reaches

Deanna’s cutie camel, all tuckered out


WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 4.  Write an “In the (blank )” poem

In the Far Reaches

There’s currently nine
and a half-hours’ time diff’rence
between her and me. 

I use what seems nine
checking the clock to reckon
what time it is, there.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

A Misguided Poem

Photo by Los Muertos Crew on Pexels.com

WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 3.  Write a misguided poem

A Misguided Poem

When this poem saw
its writer, it counted on
seventeen syllab

-les

© Marie Elena Good 2022

Untitled

Photo by molochkomolochko on Pexels.com

WD November Chapbook Challenge, Day 2. Write a sweet poem.


I prefer my sweets
to whisper, not scream. Infer.
Teach my buds to taste.

© Marie Elena Good 2022

“Asking for a friend.”

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

WD November Chapbook Challenge. Day 1.  Write a beginning poem, or an ending poem

“Asking for a friend”

Dear fellow persons,
When did handwritten letters
become an art form?

Birthday greetings change
from carefully picked cards, to
instant facebook posts?

Did spelling our words
become an imposition
on us?  idk.

When did we mutate
from people people, to mere
convenience junkies?

Have we managed to
make effortlessness a god
of our own doing?

A god that will bring
us to our knees when we see
it filched our intents

made us its robots
robbed us of our humanness
made us drop our

love.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

PONDERINGS

Photo credit: Keith R. Good

Smacks of death, say some.
But I smell Mom’s pies. Hear Dad’s
marching band pre-games.

Feel crisp air against
my sometimes still-a-bit-tanned-
from-summertime skin.

Marvel at the sky’s
puffy white and charcoal clouds
in deep blue setting.

Relish the jewel-tones
gradually gracing trees,
begging wonderment.

Enjoy leaves crunching
beneath the tires of my bike,
or cute-boot-dressed feet.

Experience leaves
raked in a pile over my
head, then jumping in.

Savor the taste of
a hardy stew with biscuits,
or bowl of chili.

Memories bring smiles,
like the Robbins Avenue
Pizza (a rare treat),

enjoyed on our porch
after walking home from a
nighttime football game.

Smacks of death, say some.
But my senses are filled with
what I’ve fallen for.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

Ears to Hear

Photo credit: Keith R. Good
She sits in silence,
listening for God to speak.
But she hears no one.

She sits in darkness,
watching for God’s appearance.
But she sees nothing.

She grasps at the air,
trying to feel God’s presence.
But she feels nothing.

She raises her voice.
“Abba! Father! Where are You?”
He, soundlessly, speaks.

She closes her eyes,
absorbing His attention,
knowing who He is. 

Her heart hears His voice
in both silence and sound. He
gives her ears to hear.

She opens her eyes
sees Him everywhere, in
all He created.

The air wraps her up,
blankets her in His shelter,
fills her lungs with Him.

She knows she is His.
She sees and hears and feels Him.
She knows what she knows.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

LIFE

Photo by Keith R. Good

Sometimes we don’t see
past the beauty in focus.
Sometimes life holds life.


#seventeenintwentytwo

LIFE, COMPOSED IN THREE PARTS

Photo by Keith R. Good
Part 1. LEGATO

Since love and laughter
sang the notes to her childhood,
she tuned in to life.

She felt melodic,
harmonious, and ready
to embrace her song.

Part 2. ARPEGGIO

A child bride’s ballad,
meant to mirror her childhood,
ends in broken chords.

A sharp turn taken,
her imposed solo becomes
a balanced duet

as her new partner
discards the shards, and the two
play in consonance. 

Her children (her heart),
born improvisers, still long
to dance their own dance.

Part 3. CODA 

Moons rose and set. Her
parents grew sickly; her song
became elegy.

Still, her partner hums
his strength, and her Composer 
breathes psalms in her lungs.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022