pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Home

Home is where I watch the Buckeyes with Dad

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As August slips into the back side,
and daylight is squeezed
into fewer hours,
I miss the distant sound
of drum cadence,
bringing in a new season.
In just a couple weeks,
Dad and I would have had
our decades-long ritual
of gathering in front of the T.V.
and saying (as though it is a surprise),
“Can you believe it is already
the first game of the season?
Didn’t the season just end?”

It didn’t matter whose home we
were in,

until it did.

Those final years, he became too frail,
and it became harder,
and then impossible,
to get Mom out the door.
So we would haul food to their place,
and hope Dad could stay awake
and out of the bathroom
for most of the game.
We hoped he could enjoy it
a fraction of what he used to.

The lamp that was part of each home
Mom and Dad called theirs
now lights my front window
as I write poems
about football
and marching bands
and drum cadence
and Mom
and Dad.

Because poems
and their light
are all that remain.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

 

MILKY WAY

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In last night’s sky
I saw hundreds of stars
above me,
and I remembered
Michigan’s night sky,
when you and I stood
beneath not hundreds
but billions
or trillions
and I wished
I could take them home.

In last night’s sky
I saw hundreds of stars
above me.
Today, not even one.
Not even the sun.

But now?
Now, I know they are here –

billions
and trillions
and even the sun,
and even when I see
not even one.

And I see no need
to take them home,

for now I see
they are my home.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019

UNTITLED

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One flickering flame
in the window glows, bestows
the best kind of warmth.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

FOR POETIC BLOOMINGS AUTUMNAL POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE, 2018,  DAY 13:  CANDLES

AUTUMN’S BIKE TRAILS

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When fall visits,
we crisscross the trail –
never tiring
of the crunch of crisp leaves
beneath us,
savoring childlike fun.

The brisk, fresh air
invigorates –
motivates us to
ride further,
sometimes pausing
to capture photos
of fall foliage, fields
dotted with orange pumpkin;
orchards with red apples.

Bushed and beaming,
we head home,
cautiously peering
around multi-colored leaf
piles raked to the curb –
some taller
than the cars avoiding them.

Home,
warm and cozy,
fire in the fireplace,
popcorn popping,
already reminiscing,

hoping tomorrow
is more of the same.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

FOR POETIC BLOOMINGS AUTUMNAL POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE, 2018, DAY 9:  SOUP

NORTHWEST OHIO

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I live among the oak, and pine.
The locust.  The buckeye.
The sugar and silver maples.
Home is dappled sunlight.

In nearby fields, green corn and soy,
orange pumpkins, or golden wheat
contrast against intense-blue sky.

No wonder why the man I love
longs to return to farming the land,
missing the “big toys” he used to enjoy.
The open fields that call his name,
and leave space for breath and prayer.

©  Marie Elena Good, 2018

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