It’s time to unveil
a new year. Inhale fresh air,
and care for what’s there.
Let my voice take wing
to sing in the key of peace.
May mercy increase
where now there are chains.
Where cold-heartedness remains,
may warmth fill my veins.
Let love with no caps
gush compassion, not rationed
in morsels or scraps.
Make me teachable
and easily reachable
when You wish to speak.
Please help me seek You.
In new ways through this new year,
help me feel You near.
© Marie Elena Good, 2021
At Christmastime, reflecting on our God,
I see a rich and sumptuous show of grace.
A story so enthralling bids me laud
A baby boy, born in a lowly place.
God simply breathed, and life then came to be.
He spoke-spilled stars that move at His command.
He fashioned sand and man, and shell and sea,
This God who values meek, as well as grand.
So when it came to paying debt of sin,
He chose to do the grandest thing of all
In such a way that awes me deep within:
Majestic use of unforeseen, and small.
A vulnerable newborn was His means,
Born of a humble woman in her teens.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
“Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.” ~ Isaiah 7:14
“This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”).” ~ Matthew 1:18-23
“She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” ~ Matthew 1:21
Photo by Keith R. Good
I see and hear the birds, the deer,
the kids that play across the way.
I feel the breeze, and watch the trees react,
and I make eye contact with Chickadee.
I smile as he rests on my sill.
Then I refill my coffee mug,
sit snug and still and know
the golden glow of morning sun,
and glorious One who made it rise
and harmonize with all I see
outside my window;
inside me.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Photo by Daniel Reche, courtesy of Pixabay
Oh, stillness deep within me, never wane
when chaos saturates the world without.
I know the very God who sees and reigns –
whose still, small voice speaks peace, and quiets doubt.
He gave mankind a gnawing in our soul
that won’t be satisfied without His will.
And only He can quench that thirsty hole;
and only through His food, we get our fill.
At times, my praise rings sonorous and strong,
and springs from nourished soul that feeds on Him.
At times my praise, just weak and weary song,
seeps sluggishly from apathy within.
Oh, Father, fill me up when I am drained,
and may my praise be endless; unrestrained.
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
Photo by Keith R. Good
Sleep came,
but the dreams that accompanied it
were disturbing
and all I could do was pray for peace
as worry for her threatened to devour me.
Disquiet was my life for months
and months
and months.
Then one night I found myself
walking a path of undisturbed snow.
The moon was my only light –
just enough to illumine the path,
glisten against the falling snowflakes,
and reveal the immense evergreen forest.
There was silence,
save the calming crunch
of snow beneath my feet.
I walked the breathtaking beauty all night,
accompanied by One who knows me intimately –
the only One who offers stillness
in the midst of turbulence.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
“… and he said to the sea, ‘Peace, be still.’ And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.” ~ Mark 4:39
Photo by Keith R. Good
When I breathe my last
I will see You face to face,
and life will begin.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
Photo by Deanna Marie Metts
I.
They say we shouldn’t talk politics or religion
so, religiously,
we blind our eyes,
plug our ears,
close our minds,
and open our mouths.
II.
They say we shouldn’t talk politics or religion
so, religiously,
we shun politics
while we de-bate what hooked us
and dragged us to our knees.
III.
They say we shouldn’t talk politics or religion
so, religiously,
we set our jaws, and type
with furious fingers –
too often the same fingers that have
never cast a ballot,
raised themselves to seek answers to questions,
nor folded themselves to silently seek the
One
we religiously shun.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
When I consider He who made all things,
In awe, I bow before this King of kings –
This One whose creativity’s arrayed,
And in whose image, we have all been made.
Creator, He, and so creators, we.
He gifted us with this ability.
So all creative ways point to our God.
Let us then recognize, give thanks, and laud.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
Photo by Keith R. Good
I discovered the simple life I lead
does not lend itself to major discoveries.
Or so I thought.
Then I discovered something major
in leading a simple life:
Contentment.
Not as in settling. As in
being settled.
No big dreams, met or unmet.
Then I discovered contentment
does not breed motivation.
Or so I thought.
But lo and behold,
contentment inspires thankfulness.
Then thankfulness – praise,
and praise – a relationship with my God,
and relationship with my God – contentment,
and contentment – thankfulness …
And I am content
with this
simple,
major,
inspiring discovery.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
“So you write your novels, if that’s what you do,
Or scholarly texts, or cerebral world view,
While I write my lighthearted, fun-to-write rhyme,
Then do it again for the ten millionth time.” ~ Marie Elena Good, 2009
Now sometimes I write some political stuff –
Some downers and bummers, and, oddly enough,
It isn’t dependent on what’s in the news,
Nor spotting and schmoozing with some obscure muse.
What moved me back then and still moves me today
Is the awe of my God – and to this end I pray:
That whatever I write, be it witty or grim,
It will honor my God, and point others to Him.
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
Written in response to the Motivation prompt at Poetic Bloomings: Write a poem about what moves you to write.
