pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Granddaughters

August 25, 2024

ON MY CALENDAR

Photo by Bich Tran on Pexels.com

On My Calendar

Mondays
On Mondays we enjoy a meal
with family, and it’s ideal –
even when the food ain’t great
that sits there smirking on our plate.
The love we share is the appeal.

Tuesdays
Tuesday mornings I’m content
immersed in weekly blessed event
of breakfast with each granddaughter.
Our one-on-one constructs a cotter,
bonding hearts in time well spent.

Thursdays
My school-year Thursdays are the chance
to teach my heart the steps to dance
with women I would not have known,
and through whose cultures I have grown.
Their love is huge.  My life, enhanced.

Fridays
Each final Friday, there’s a date
for cousin’s lunch, and I can’t wait.
We’ll keep it up year after year,
won’t let whatever interfere.
It keeps us bonded, and that’s great!

Saturdays
Any college football day
tends to chase my blues away.
(Except for a specific blue:
that one with maize that passes through.)
Love my scarlet and my gray!

Sundays
Sunday mornings spent in church
singing, praising, heartfelt search
through all the evidence of God
who we can know, and see, and laud.
(Sometimes Keith’s out catching perch. 😉)

Days unnamed, not unembraced,
leave ample time to just be graced
with quiet time
to read or rhyme,
or stuff that’s hard, but must be faced.

© Marie Elena Good 2024

I spent more time on these little pieces than it looks like. They need polishing, but at least the gist is there. 😉

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February 24, 2024

THIRTEEN (a sonnet for Sophia Rose)

Our hearts were lit the moment you were born.
This blue-eyed chubby cherub, ours to hold.
It seemed you brought with you a love well worn;
If you could speak, the stories you’d have told.

Your toddler legs gave movement toward your dreams.
But no, not near enough for your designs.
You needed flight to capture those moonbeams,
And wishes aren’t contained by boundary lines!

In thirteen years, you’ve hardly changed a bit:
You’re soft of heart, while strong of mind and drive.
You’re beautiful.  You can’t contain your wit.
It’s our delight to watch you grow and thrive.

We see inside those laughing eyes of blue,
Intelligence and warmth reside in you.

© Marie Elena Good, 2024

Happy Birthday, Soph! We love you!
Nonna and Poppa

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January 22, 2023

ELEVEN

Eleven

Mature well beyond her years and big for her age, she is not a girly girl.  She looks very much young- adult, and is sometimes mistaken as such.  Those her age can’t relate to her, nor she to them. Yet in the midst, her kindness for all, shines. Her laughter comes easily.  She faces young adult assumptions, expectations, misperceptions, and uncertainties.  She seeks clothing and hair styles in an effort to make her more comfortable in her own skin.  Today, we are at her Christmas-gift hair appointment. Appointment complete, her stylist says, “Pretty.  What do you think?”

Eyes in mirror smile
while unexpected soft voice
slips, “I am pretty.”

© Marie Elena Good 2023

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August 29, 2021

NONNA REE’S PRIORITIES

The older I get, the older I feel
It’s hard to run. It’s hard to kneel.
Can’t cartwheel as in childhood.
(But, truth-be-told, I never could. 😉 )
Consistently can’t find my words –
Can access just perhaps two thirds.
Can’t run too fast. Can’t hear when asked.
My skates and skis were long-since trashed.
But I’ll still race you on my bike,
and take a walk or even hike
and talk and laugh and draw (kind of 😉 )
and listen well
and deeply love.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

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April 12, 2020

REQUESTED (Izzy’s sonnet)

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On the occasion of Izzy’s 6th birthday, I just wanted to again share the poem I wrote when she was born.  Happy Birthday, Izzy!  As soon as this Covid-19 stay-at-home is safely lifted, Poppa and I will have you for a sleepover and proper hugs.  In the meantime, enjoy your birthday, pretty little sweetie! ❤

REQUESTED (Izzy’s Sonnet)

God graciously gives gifts that prove His love,
And this time used a cherished little one
Whose precious face is reminiscent of
The one who caused my heart to come undone.

Another set of prints upon my soul
Has made her presence known, and it’s sublime –
Just like a piece that makes a puzzle whole,
Or syllable that finishes a rhyme.

Upon three years of practice on my part,
You’d think by now it might have gotten old.
But every day brings wonder to my heart,
And now my joy has multiplied twofold.

Delivered straight to us through Heaven’s door –
The one her sister earnestly asked for.

© Marie Elena Good, 2014

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July 9, 2019

DEAR MOM AND DAD,

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Dear Mom and Dad,

Having devoted grandparents made my childhood something special.  Holidays were spectacular, with wall-to-wall cousins and outstanding meals — Irish on one side; Italian on the other.  Summertime meant choosing a cousin to spend a few nights at Grandma and Grandpa’s.  I suppose you probably knew, but we were kind of given free reign, and ice cream and nonpareils rained freely.  Those were fun years of my life.  I miss the years, and I miss my grandparents.

I don’t miss them like my kids miss you.  We didn’t have the special closeness my kids had with you … the kind where they weren’t sure they could ever live without you.  The kind where they spent their lives fearing the inevitable.  The kind that took special grace from God to go on in the wake of losing you both within 35 days of each other.  The kind that begs, “Just one more day.  Just one more conversation.  Just one more hug.”  The kind that made their lives richer for the living, a bit shattered in the leaving, and grateful for every shared moment.

A love worth the loss.
This is who I want to be
To my granddaughters.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

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June 16, 2019

FOR SOPHIE AND IZZY (our Rosie and Bean)

Four little loved feet lived a few feet away
‘Til they moved to St. Thomas’s lush Caret Bay.
Abruptly, an ocean and 2,000 miles
Created a chasm, and dampened our smiles.

But then they moved closer (no ocean to cross)
And the far-fewer miles seemed less of a loss.
“It’s all relative,” as the old saying goes,
But oh how we still miss our Bean and our Rose.

Now all of a sudden, life’s changing again!
We’re all looking forward to Saturday, when
Four little loved feet can stay put and not roam:
Our Sophie and Izzy are coming back home!

It’s hard to believe it’s been only one year
Since we said our goodbyes, and we choked back our tears.
Here’s move number three in a rather short time –
Returning our smiles, and ending this rhyme.  😉

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

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May 10, 2019

Two Catena Rondo for Two

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1. SOPHIA ROSE

This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.
Her baby days just sadly up and went.
He says he loves her eighty one percent.
This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.

Her baby days just sadly up and went.
Her daddy says he’s losing all his hair.
There’s no way for a daddy to prepare.
Her baby days just sadly up and went.

Her daddy says he’s losing all his hair.
This eighty-one-percent kid’s just too cute.
The two of them together are a hoot.
Her daddy says he’s losing all his hair.

This eighty-one-percent kid’s just too cute.
He’s also sweet, so Sophie’s got good taste,
But baby years have too soon been erased.
This eighty-one-percent kid’s just too cute.

He’s also sweet, so Sophie’s got good taste.
This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.
There’re others, too, but he’s the real McCoy.
He’s also sweet, so Sophie’s got good taste.

This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.
Her baby days just sadly up and went.
He says he loves her eighty one percent.
This eight-year-old is crushing on a boy.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

 
2. ISADORA KATHLEEN

And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.
She picked her future husband years ago.
He’s dutiful, and she’s a dynamo.
And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.

She picked her future husband years ago,
When binks and naptimes were a part of life.
And (dutifully), he chose her for his wife.
She picked her future husband years ago.

When binks and naptimes were a part of life,
Those pint-sized wheels were spinning in her head.
Who knew the ploys and schemes that lay ahead,
When binks and naptimes were a part of life.

Those pint-sized wheels were spinning in her head.
And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.
I wonder how her daddy will survive
Those pint-sized wheels still spinning in her head.

And now there’s little Izzy, just turned five.
She picked her future husband years ago.
He’s dutiful, and she’s a dynamo.
And n there’s little Izzy, just turned five.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

God help us, lol! 

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