Too much time to toil
smells like coffee break.
Too much time to broil
stinks of ruined steak.
Too much time spent mowing
smells of outside, in.
Too much time spent crowing
reeks of haughty din.
Time spent giving speeches
hints of stage-fright sweat.
Time spent strolling beaches?
Stale outlook reset.
Wasted time on druthers
leaves stench day-to-day.
Time spent loving others
breathes in sweet bouquet.
© Marie Elena Good
He was handsome.
Warmhearted.
Excellent mind,
when it mattered.
Nobody more well-
mannered.
Clearly he had the world
at his fingertips.
Then came the diagnoses:
and they were many,
and they were hard to stomach.
This unmasking of
high impact issues
caused setbacks.
He felt he was
plunging into limbo.
No more spearheading projects.
No more chairing committees.
No more researching solutions
at breakneck speed.
But then good news was delivered!
He’d been misdiagnosed all along!
The moral of the story?
Though I try bloody hard to be humerus
It’s all in vein.
And you know what else?
For as long as you have breath,
you’ll never not see noses
in diagnoses.
© Marie Elena Good, 2018
I do not like Ae freslighe, Ma’am.
I do not like her sans iamb.
She messes with my rhythmic ear.
I wish that she would disappear.
I do not like Ae freslighe, Ma’am.
I’d rather eat green eggs and spam.
© copyright 2013, Marie Elena Good
“The Ae freslighe (ay fresh lee) is a fascinating, but fairly challenging Celtic poetic form.” ~ R.J. Clarken
Per Terry Clitheroe of The Poets Garret (http://www.thepoetsgarret.com/celtic1.html):
Ae freslighe: (ay fresh lee):
Each stanza is a quatrain of seven syllables. Lines one and three rhyme with a triple (three syllable) rhyme and two and four use a double (two syllable) rhyme. The poem should end with the first syllable, word, or the complete line that it began with.
| x x x x (x x a) x x x x x (x b) x x x x (x x a) x x x x x (x b) |
I know impish Izzy who swallowed a dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
I know impish Izzy who swallowed banana
that tasted so sweet and that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime.
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
I know impish Izzy is waiting to poop.
And each time she does, Momma’s needing to “snoop.”
She swallowed banana that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
I know a sweet Momma who thinks this all stinks.
Whose sweet little Izzy is full of high jinx
And while she’s high jinxing, she’s waiting to poop
And each time she does, Momma’s needing to snoop.
She swallowed banana that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
I know impish Izzy, who gives us a run
For proverbial money. She’s playful, that one.
Her sweet little Momma just thinks this all stinks,
While Izzy is impish and full of high jinx
And while she’s high jinxing, she’s waiting to poop
And each time she does, Momma’s needing to snoop.
She swallowed banana that came from Cabana.
She swallowed banana to push down the dime
But I don’t know why she swallowed the dime.
Perhaps I’ll rhyme.
Our Izzy is loaded with life and fun sass.
And as for the dime? Well, this too shall pass.
(And you ALL knew THAT was coming! 
)
Inspired also, of course by:
I KNOW AN OLD LADY
by Rose Bonne and Alan Mills
*
Ain’t got no time for silliness, I say.
No room for fun. No need for loud guffaws.
Can’t cope with pranks. Can’t stand the phrase, “Let’s play.”
I’d rather deal with early menopause.
Ain’t got no time for silliness, for sure.
Won’t take the time to write a silly poem.
I’m too articulate, and too mature.
I’d rather chew on tin or Styrofoam.
Ain’t got no time for silliness, ya hear?
I’ve got no use for gigglers all aglow.
Don’t whisper no sweet nothings in my ear.
I’d rather use teaspoons to shovel snow.
Were I to pen some fun, I’d be remiss.
I’m glad that it’s a somber sonnet, this.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
*Izzy’s first haircut! 😀
Photo by Deanna Marie Metts
Dashing through the thoughts
Of an A.D.D.-fraught head.
Presents to be bought;
Writing this instead.
Pretty snow outside
Calling me to play
“Ought to/want to” soon collide
Now, which will win today?
Hey!
Cards to write! Sweets to bake!
Stockings to be hung!
Presents to be bought and wrapped, and carols to be sung!
Hey!
Cards to write! Sweets to bake!
Stockings to be hung!
Presents to be bought and wrapped, and carols to be sung!
Dashing through the mall
In a state of frenzied fear.
Busy! Aren’t we all?
It’s that time of year!
Who did I forget?
Did I check my list out twice?
Then I break into a sweat
For paying retail price!
Oh!
Cards to write! Sweets to bake!
Stockings to be hung!
Presents to be bought and wrapped, and carols to be sung!
Hey!
Cards to write! Sweets to bake!
Stockings to be hung!
Presents to be bought and wrapped, and carols to be sung!
As I sit and write
And I work to make this rhyme,
Joy creeps in despite
I’m running out of time
To do the things I must
Like write my Christmas cards.
Instead I sit and look nonplussed –
Give judgment my regards.
Oh!
Things to do! Things to do!
Running out of time!
Cannot pull myself away from working on this rhyme.
Hey!
Things to do! Things to do!
But I’m not uptight.
Oh what fun it was to write a Christmas poem tonight!
Hey!
Photo credit: Everett Collection
I wanted
I needed
I begged
I pleaded
I coveted
I must
I craved
I lust
I hungered
I yearned
I hankered
I burned
I pined
I panted
I thirst
I ranted
I longed
I itched
For what I pitched.
© Marie Elena Good, 2009
What’s mine is mine. What’s yours is mine.
Remember this, and we’ll be fine.
E-con-oh-me? Not for the wee!
E-con- NO! MY! economy.
© Marie Elena Good 2009
In the time it took to write this dizain,
I should have lost weight. So why didn’t I?
Well truly, Sugar, I just can’t explain.
You’d think it would be as easy as pie.
I’m just in a jam. Can’t figure out why.
Computer cookies! Could there be a link?
My appetite for the sweet flow of ink?
Digesting rhymes in the grocery aisle?
The weight of my words? It all makes me think.
I wonder. Let me chew on that awhile.
© Marie Elena Good, 2016
PHOTO BY KEITH R. GOOD
The trouble with hawks
Is they cause trouble.
So when they began
To nest in our oak,
They were not welcome.
Squirrels were here first.
Jays were here first,
As were robins,
And chickadees
And others.
Don’t under-
Estimate
Others.
Hawk nest?
Hawked.
pictured words 