Life | pictured words

LOCKED

“Pandora’s Box” prompt and photo, provided by Walter Wojtanik of Poetic Bloomings

Out of fear
(or worse — indifference)
she waited too long
to unlock the trunk she daily
(habitually)
avoided. Tripped over. Pretended wasn’t there.

Summoning the courage, she unlocked it.
Discovered a long-lost page.
Dulled. Faded. Not easily read.
Less easily understood.

For times had changed,
and, therefore,
the truths that had shaped them.

Right?

As she tried to examine
and understand,
she began to question

everything.

Perhaps wrong paths had been taken.
Destructive habits had formed.

Perhaps what was true, then,
was no less true, now.

Perhaps times change,
but truths remain.

Perhaps it was up to her
to unlock

release

embrace.

2 Comments

A CORD OF THREE STRANDS

memo board

They began, young.

Lovely and in love
Healthy and hopeful
Playful and promising
To have and to hold
From this day

Forward, fast
Furiously fading
As Alzheimer’s attempts
To dilute and damage
Life and love
Strongly seduced.

Still,
Promise prevailed.
“All my love, and love me always”
In illness and health,
Held by God’s hands
And the cord of three strands,
Stands

Against all
Ashes to ashes
Forever co-mingled
In the perpetual presence
Of the One who,
Singly, and synchronously,
Breathed life
And an always love.

“And if someone overpowers one person, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not easily broken.” ~ Ecclesiastes 4:12

Forever my love to Mom and Dad, now eternally at rest, in the presence of the One.

8 Comments

TIME IS OF THE ES-SCENTS

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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

4 Comments

LISTEN TO HEAR

Agreement is not crucial.
Kindness is.
Divergence is not futile.
Blindness is.

In one way or another,
We should learn
To hear our diverse brothers –
Not to spurn.

© Marie Elena Good

3 Comments

As I Near My Autumn Days

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As I near my autumn days,
I think of all I have not experienced.

No trips abroad.
No vacation home.
No award-winning book.
No fame.
No second-glance beauty.

I think of all I have not experienced.
Yet, let the autumn leaves summon,

For I am content to sit side-by-side,
In dappled sunlight or soaking rain.

14 Comments

Caring for the yard is hard
when clay sits atop
once-upon-a-swamp
and damp drains down
heavy on your skin,
and feels like breathing soup
as you heave your weight atop a spade
to dislodge one weed from clay.
Repeat, all day.

August 1, 2018

GRIEF

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Grief is a peculiar beast,
prowling when
and where
and how we least expect –
often at inopportune moments
when there is no fitting release
and nothing to do but cram it down,
thinking it will recede
and let us be,
but no
it lingers about,
then slinks in
at the next inopportune moment ,
chafing,
never ending,
like a run-on thought
or a spinning yarn
with no end in sight
and no

… funny,
how relief,
though brief,
comes conversely
through
tears,

and laughter.

6 Comments

May 30, 2018

CEASELESSLY CLOSE (in Cyrch A Chwta form)

An Echo Azure Butterfly (Celastrina echo) on Forget-me-not Flowers

Photo from http://www.flowermeaning.com/forget-me-not-flower-meaning/

Seldom did we disagree –
So alike, my mom and me.
Selflessly devoted, she.
I’ve been told I came to be
Through her plea on bended knee.
No one taught me to foresee
That she wouldn’t seem deceased,
Once tomorrows ceased to be.

3 Comments

January 15, 2018

IS JESUS’ DADDY MEAN?

all_are_precious_in_his_sight_by_nessie905-d7ywhw1-640x522

all_are_precious_in_his_sight_by_nessie905-d7ywhw1-640×522

At three years old,
She loves.
She loves her family.
She loves the children who come to her home
To be cared for.
She loves dolls,
And coloring
And tea parties
And chocolate kisses.
She loves Jesus …

But the nativity drawing
On a card from Cameroon
Gave her pause.
“Is Jesus’ daddy mean?”
‘No, honey. Does he look mean?”

“Kinda” slips out from under her wrinkled nose.

“He has a black face.”

At three years old,
She loves.
She loves her white family.
She loves the little white children, who come
To her home to be cared for.
She loves her white dolls,
And sister’s brown doll.
She loves her little brown neighbor.
She sees few black people in her world.

“Honey, Jesus had very dark skin.
So did his mommy and step daddy.
It’s just a color. It doesn’t make us mean,
Or nice.
It’s just a color.
Some people who are black are nice,
And some are not.
Some people who are white,
Like you,
Are nice,
Like you,
And some are not.”

With an incredulous look,
She declares,

“I am not white!”

She plays pretend a while,
Then comes to me.

“Nonna?”
“Yes?”

“I like black people.”

2 Comments

October 4, 2017

Epiphanies (inspired by My Favorite Things)

Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

Toddlers that “get it,”
That first sense of humor!
Ultrasound showing
There’s two in her womb, or

Suddenly noticing
His shy, sweet stare.
These are some things
That are special and rare.

Seeing my mother
In my own reflection.
More often noting
Decreased recollection.

Pleasant occasions
In which I take part.
Still finding plenty
To capture my heart.

Years fly quickly,
Oh, so quickly!
Decades swiftly pass.
So value your loved ones,
Your home, and your life.
Acknowledge your brim-
full glass!

pictured words

Tag: Life

September 23, 2018